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G/R RPS Daily Muse Note from the author: Okay, so I have made a fic decision (finally!). I will be working on the sequel to 'After the End' as planned (already started!) but it will only be updated probably once a week. However, I like to keep my writing fresh, and the only way I can do that is by writing daily, if possible. So, I have decided to start an ongoing Gale/Randy RPS fic. I will write a little each day (ten to fifteen minutes) and post it. It will be un-beta'd, but hopefully adequate nonetheless. This is for fun though, unlike my B/J fic, which although is fun to write, I take seriously, and requires more effort. This is basically just a long term writing exercise. So let's see where it goes, shall we? For now it will be called 'The Daily Muse', which amuses me, because I've called this journal by that name all along. The fog had been there for weeks now, coiling around their feet like the smoke in the scenes they acted out in Babylon. It was heavy, cold, and permeated the legs of their pants, pricking their skin and making the tiny hairs stand up on end. Gale blamed the fog for his mood, the way he felt so thick and lumbered as he walked into work in the mornings. He was lethargic, tired of the same old routine, tired of his face being recognised. Tired of playing games with himself. He came across Randy in the parking lot, just outside the heavy metal door that was supposed to keep everyone out but only managed to keep them in. A cigarette hung between his fingers, the smoke coiling up around his head like a halo. Gale took a step towards him and plucked it from his hand, taking a single drag before dropping it on the floor and crushing it under his boot. “Hey!” Randy protested, turning those serious eyes in Gale’s direction. “I wanted that.” Gale smirked and raised one eyebrow. “You always want something.” There was no answer for that, and Randy looked down at the ground, scuffing his foot along the bottom step. “You didn’t come by last night,” he said, unable to keep the low whine out of his voice. “I know. I fell asleep.” It was a pathetic excuse, Gale knew that, but he didn’t have the energy for anything more believable. What was the point when they both already knew it was bullshit? It had always been bullshit, he thought, as he stole a look across at Randy, who was hugging his arms across his chest and pretending that Gale didn’t exist. Their whole -whatever the fuck this was supposed to be- relationship had been bullshit from the start, both of them pretending that they didn’t carry around an internal ache for the other, an ache so strong they spent most of the time fighting because of it. Trying to take out their frustrations the only way they knew how. “Come here,” Gale said, and Randy looked up, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t get to boss me about,” he replied, but took a step towards him anyway, letting him fold him in his arms. “I’m not trying to,” Gale said against his ear, and nuzzled his nose into the tender skin underneath. “Then what are you doing?” Randy asked, his eyes closing as he leaned into him, letting him block him from the cold. “I don’t know,” Gale replied, with a shrug. “I’m not sure I ever really know.” “Rather profound for this time of the morning, don’t you think?” Randy asked, looking up, a small smile on his face. “Fuck you!” Gale laughed and pulled him a little closer, resting his chin on the top of his head. The two men were quiet after that, standing in their own little world in the rear parking lot of the studio, the early morning sky filled with soggy, cotton-wool clouds, the mist swirling about their feet. “Gale, I--” Randy began, but Gale cut him off, lifting his chin with one finger until they were looking into each other’s eyes. “Don’t, Rands,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I can’t.” Randy looked like he was about to say something, but then closed his mouth and nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. “I know,” he said, and moved away from the warmth of Gale’s arms. “Randy…” Gale sighed and glanced towards the parking-lot where he caught sight of Hal’s car pulling into his allotted space. “No, don’t say it,” Randy replied, moving back towards the metal door. “If I’m not allowed to say how I really feel about all of this then neither are you.” Gale supposed that was only fair. He stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded, glancing up, fixating on the back of Randy’s shiny head. “Tonight?” he asked, letting the implication hang in the air between them, like the ghost of a breath that misted out after he had spoken. Randy paused, his hand on the door, and looked back at Gale over his shoulder. His expression was unreadable, but it was there in how he stood, every nerve ending fighting for him to move back towards Gale. His body never failed to win in the end. “Always,” he replied, and slipped through the door to where Simon was waiting for him. It was quiet in the studio canteen, most of the early morning crew already preparing for the first shooting of the day. Simon sat in the corner, his back to the wall, a mug of piping hot coffee warming his palms. His eyes were fixed on the door, waiting for Randy. He felt like he was always waiting for Randy. Hal trotted through the door first, eternally bright and cheery, despite the hour and the cold that had managed to filter through the walls of the building, paying no regard to the heating turned up high. He spotted Simon and gave him a little wave, before heading over towards the bored looking lady serving up breakfast. Simon sighed. He knew where Randy was. Perhaps it was a mistake agreeing to meet him for breakfast before he caught his flight back to the States, but he wasn’t sure when he would see him again. Filming was on a tight schedule, and Simon also had his own career to think about. However much he hated leaving Randy there, on his own, with that god damn beautiful man he starred in the show with, he had little choice. He had tried to make his last night with Randy as memorable as possible, setting up a candlelit dinner in the cramped apartment Randy lived in for most of each year. He had taken a trip to the florists on the corner and bought Randy’s favourite flowers, coupling them with the most expensive bottle of wine he could find at such short notice. But it wasn’t enough. Simon wondered if he ever would be enough for Randy. He knew from the start that he had fallen on his feet where Randy was concerned. He was a confident man, but he knew his limitations. He never thought it possible that Randy would take one look at him, never mind come back for a second glance. Simon took a sip of his coffee, tilting his head slightly when Randy walked through the door, and let out a sigh of relief he hadn’t even realised he had been holding in. Gale wasn’t with him, which helped to improve his mood. He was certain that the reason the night before had flopped so spectacularly was because of Gale. Randy’s eyes had kept on drifting towards the door throughout the meal, jumping when the people from across the hall slammed their own door shut. “Are you expecting somebody?” Simon had asked, and Randy blinked as if he was being pulled out of a daydream he had every intention of indulging in. “Oh. Just Gale,” he had replied. Just Gale. Simon snorted as Randy strode towards him, a tight smile on his face that he couldn’t quite clear in time, and accepted his kiss as he slipped into the chair next to him. “Sorry I’m a little late, I was outside smoking.” Simon nodded. He didn’t think Randy was lying, per say, but he wasn’t exactly telling him the whole truth. The rest filtered through into his consciousness when Gale walked through the door, the relaxed lines of his body warring with the frown on his face. His eyes flitted over to where Simon and Randy sat, and then quickly looked away. Simon narrowed his eyes, feeling Randy tense beside him. “You two fall out?” he asked, gesturing over to Gale, who had sneaked up behind Hal at the counter and procured himself a sausage from his plate. “Of course not,” Randy replied, shaking his head, his eyes fixing firmly on the surface of the table under which his hands were clasped together a little too tightly. “Uh huh.” Simon pushed back his chair a little and cupped Randy’s jaw, forcing him to look up at him. Whatever he had been feeling only moments before, however angry he had been, however close he was to storming out of there without a backward glance, one look into Randy’s eyes, their serious vulnerability shining through, and all thoughts of Gale melted away. Randy had chosen him, Simon, for god knows what reasons, but chosen him he had. And Simon had no intention of going away. Gale kept his eyes on his plate throughout breakfast, unwilling to look in
Randy’s direction no matter how much he wanted to. No matter how many times
Randy glanced towards him with that puzzled look on his face that made him look
like he was contemplating something significant. No matter that he wouldn’t know
what Randy’s expression was like if he hadn’t actually unwittingly looked
towards him. Randy was already waiting on set when Gale walked in, a robe pulled tightly around him as he stood talking to the director, his blonde hair falling in his face. Gale swallowed and marched straight over to the bed where the scene was going to take place, and immediately removed his own robe before flopping onto his back and closing his eyes. Moments later he felt the bed dip, and looked up to see Randy looming over him, a guarded expression on his face. “You’re already hard,” he said, matter-of-fact, as if it happened every day. Gale supposed it was becoming quite the regular occurrence. He shrugged and shot Randy a look, not even bothering to try and diffuse the situation with humour like he might normally do. Randy was about to open his mouth, a question on the tip of his tongue, when the director ordered everyone into their places. He slipped down the bed, his head positioned near Gale’s hip, and glanced up at him one more time before he heard ‘Action!’ yelled somewhere over his shoulder, and he let Justin take his place. The scene was a simulated blow-job, which Randy thought was probably the easiest type of sex scene given the awkwardness of their conversation that morning, and the way Gale had studiously tried to avoid looking in his direction over breakfast. And considering the way Simon had looked at him before he left to catch his flight. Randy was well aware of how Simon felt about Gale; he was threatened by him. Randy wished that he could dismiss his fears as something that came from Simon’s own psyche rather than a reaction to anything that had a foundation in reality, but he knew it wasn’t true. There was something between him and Gale. There always had been. Only they had never managed to get around to talking about it. It was the proverbial elephant in the living room and they had both become skilled at avoiding it as they tried to get on with their working-relationship and whatever came after when they loosened up in the many bars around Toronto as darkness fell. It always felt different then. Almost as if they both became hyper-aware of this crackling of electricity between them, so strong it sometimes made the tiny hairs on the back of Randy’s neck stand up on end. A bit like now if he was honest to himself. He was so close to Gale’s cock, the hardening flesh barely an inch or so from his mouth, and he closed his eyes for a second, glad that the camera angle was from the side where it couldn’t film his expression. He breathed in, inhaling the core of Gale’s scent, and bit down on his lip, hiding a moan, trying to gather himself up, slipping into Justin’s skin before he had to speak his lines. Gale arched underneath him, guttural sounds escaping his throat, and that’s when Randy knew. Over the few years that had been doing this, he had become accustomed to the noises Brian made when he was turned on. There was a full repertoire of grunts and moans, carefully tossed about to appear random. But Gale wasn’t making any of those today. Randy looked up, as he was scripted to do, ‘pausing’ in his administrations, and met Gale’s gaze. His suspicions were right - Brian was nowhere to be seen. He stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher what he was trying to tell him through that look, and then gave up, trying to pass his own message back instead. Trying to tell him he wanted him, that he wanted him so badly it had become like an itch he couldn’t scratch, somewhere deep inside of him. He tried to tell him that he understood Gale thought he was straight, or at the very least felt he most identified with that label, that he wasn’t completely sure how he felt; only it should never have been this. He tried to show him that he understood all that and that he wasn’t angry, but at the same time he wasn’t going to wait around until he realised that it was okay to feel the way he did. That sometimes you just have to step off that cliff and hope that someone else can catch you. It almost felt like hope, like he was waiting around for just that very thing to happen. For Gale to wake up and suddenly declare to himself, to Randy, maybe even to the world. Then Gale blinked and Randy saw every answer to every question in that single movement, in the tiny constriction of his pupils. He saw that Gale knew all of that, and more. That Gale didn’t blame him for doing what he was doing. And that most of all he wanted him to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him. Especially if it wasn’t with him. Justin growled in the back of Randy’s brain, and he broke the gaze, dipping his head down again to complete Brian’s orgasm. Only Brian wasn’t there, not until the end. He felt the shift in Gale when he finally managed to get a hold of himself. It was in the moment of climax, when he arched up again and finally that precise sound he liked to use for Brian tore out of his throat. Randy moved up his body and fell onto the bed by his side, shifting around until he was comfortable. “That was fucking hot,” Brian said, and he looked across at Randy, a post-coital smirk lingering around his lips. Justin smirked back, but Randy knew it didn’t reach his eyes. The expression there, the fucking intensity he knew Gale would see in them, the resignation, and the complete regret - all of that was his. Gale walked into the bar after work, worn out and very much in need of a drink. It had been a long day; too long when you consider he spent most of it staring at Randy but pretending he hadn’t been when Randy looked up and caught him. Which was unfortunately quite often. Then his lips would quirk just a little, and he would get this expression in his eyes, as if he was saying ‘I am so onto you, Gale. You don’t stand a chance’. And he didn’t really, not when it came down to it. He thought that perhaps he never did. From day one he was inexplicably drawn towards Randy. He even knew when he entered the room, as if the whole atmosphere had changed and every single cell in his body jumped up and down, pointing in his direction. There had been jokes going around the set that they were an item, or at the very least should be, and each time somebody said something, Randy would look up, his eyes darkening slightly, and then he would grin in Gale’s direction and give him a little wink, as if he was more than interested in the idea. Gale was definitely interested, but Gale was also definitely straight. At least that’s what he had told himself initially, and subsequently a reporter who had caught him unawares. He had spent at least five minutes rambling on before he managed to squeak out his answer, and even then it felt like the wrong one. So much for conducting interviews when he was hung-over. He blamed it entirely on the woman he had taken home with him the night before. He couldn’t remember what she looked like, never mind her name, but he remembered how her hands had felt on his skin; hands that had looked uncannily like Randy’s, all pale flesh and long fingers. Piano-players hands, Peter used to tell him, perfect for alighting across ivory keys. “Hey you!” Randy beamed at Gale and bounded across to him as soon as he entered the bar, a half-finished drink in his hand. “You’re drunk,” Gale said, matter-of-fact. Randy gave him one of his ‘well duh!’ looks, which always made Gale feel that he was at least one hundred points behind him when it came to intelligence, and leaned over the bar, his ass practically swaying in Gale’s face, and ordered him a whisky. “How come you’re so late?” Randy asked, finally removing his perfectly formed but incredibly offensive body part from his line of sight, and turned around to lean against the bar, staring at him with those expressive eyes of his. “Got held back in makeup and then Peter decided to corner me for a chat.” Randy raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t comment further. Peter had done the same to him earlier in the day, so he had an idea what their little talk had been about. Randy had just finished changing back into his street clothes when Peter tapped on his dressing-room door and peeked around, grinning in that impish way of his. He’d then walked in, made himself comfortable on a stool piled high with Justin’s clothes, and proceeded to ask a series of increasingly difficult questions about how Randy felt about Simon, whether he saw a future with him, and where Gale featured in all of that. As soon as he had left, Randy did the only logical thing given the situation - he went and got drunk. And now here was Gale, presumably in the same state of mind. Randy grinned when Gale knocked back his whisky in one go, wincing a little, and immediately ordered another. “Someone wants to get drunk,” he commented. “I’m playing catch-up, Rands,” Gale replied dryly. “I blame this entirely on you.” “Of course you do. Everything is my fault.” The words were supposed to be playful, both the tone of his voice and the way his mouth stretched into a smile that would have made Brian Kinney fall in love with him should have told Gale that. But instead he looked up sharply, almost as if Randy had been talking about something else, and it took a moment for his eyes to clear. “You okay?” Randy asked quietly, his smile fading, and Gale nodded in reply. “I will be, as soon as I get some more whisky inside me. I just want to forget about today.” “Me too,” Randy agreed, thinking back to the way Simon looked, half-upset and half-annoyed, as he turned around and left the studio to catch his flight. Gale tilted his head, his lips pursed, and gave him what he hoped was a compassionate look. “Missing Simon already?” Randy blinked. How the hell could he answer that? He missed some things about Simon, definitely. He missed having long conversations with him over breakfast, and he missed that he knew someone was always there for him, thinking about him, willing to do anything for him. Christ, he didn’t want to think about that now, not when his brain itched, something buried deep in his subconscious trying to rise up and tell him that those things were not specific to Simon, that anybody could fill that space. “I guess.” That was the most honest reply Gale was going to get on that subject. At least for now. Randy finished his drink and put the glass down before grabbing Gale’s hand. “I love this song, let’s dance.” Gale blinked and looked slowly around the room before his gaze fell back on Randy. “Nobody else is dancing. This is a bar, Rands, not a club.” “I know that, silly, but nobody will care. Come on, loosen up those muscles of yours.” Gale sighed and let him lead him towards the tiny make-shift dance floor on one side of the room, which when it came down to it, meant that it was simply an area of floor devoid of tables and chairs. He hated dancing. He never felt he was particularly good at it, and no matter how many times Randy told him that it wasn’t about quality but about passion and aesthetics, and Gale had both of those in bucketfuls, he still hated it. However, he rather liked watching Randy doing it, and more than that he liked it when Randy did it with him. Dancing that is. He loved the way Randy automatically turned into full-flirt mode, all lithe body and warm skin pressing up against him as he writhed about like some sort of exotic dancer. Damn, he was good. But it was a reasonably slow song that Randy chose to stick on the jukebox that night, as the first one ended, and he turned away from it, giving what Gale thought was an almost-nervous smile, and held out his hand as if they were both attending a formal. Perhaps even a prom. Too late to back out now though, even if Gale wanted to, which he didn’t, so he accepted Randy’s hand and let him move closer, his other pressing against his shoulder as he took up the typically female position of the two, his smaller frame easily blending into Gale’s taller one. And they danced. Nobody paid them any attention, and Gale certainly wasn’t taking notice of anyone else when he had an armful of Randy to contend with. He closed his eyes part way through, just swaying with him, almost as if he could imagine that if he didn’t look then he could suspend reality and pretend for just those few minutes that Randy was really his. Then the song came to an end and Randy paused long enough for Gale to sigh and look down at him, meeting his eyes, then he leaned up, standing on tip-toes, and brushed his lips against his. That’s when Simon walked in. Randy knew Simon was standing there behind them even before he turned around to look at him. He could tell by the way Gale stiffened, the arm that was about to tighten around his waist loosening slightly, and he gazed over Randy’s shoulder, his expression unreadable. Randy huffed out a breath against Gale’s lips and sank back down onto the heels of his feet before pulling away and turning around. As he did so, he prepared himself for how Simon would look. Would he be angry, would he look upset? Simon was neither of those things. He stood stiffly, his hands by his sides, his chin tilted upwards in a gesture of defiance that Randy thought even Brian would have been somewhat proud of. And then there was that smile on his face, just barely twitching his lips at the edges. The smile that said, in a fucked up form of self-satisfaction, ‘I knew I was right all along.’ “Simon?” Randy took a step towards him but stopped when Simon held up one hand. “Don’t come any closer.” Randy started chewing on his bottom lip, a gesture he had inadvertently picked up from Justin, learned via rote, and stared at him. “Aren’t you going to tell me that it isn’t what it looks like?” Simon asked, a tinge of bitterness resting on his tongue. Randy opened his mouth. He was going to tell him that, he really was. The intention was there. But there was no strength behind it. It would be a lie. He knew it, Gale knew it (or at least if he didn’t by now then he really was a whole lot dumber than he looked), even Simon knew it. “No.” Randy shook his head. “I’m not going to tell you that. I’m not going to claim it was a mistake, because it wasn’t.” Gale sucked in a breath behind him, and Randy almost turned to look at him, needing to see the expression on his face, how he was reacting to this. But that could wait. Simon nodded. He had already resigned himself to this when he first started seeing Randy. He had known all along that Randy had feelings for Gale; deep, inexplicable feelings that wouldn’t go away, and that he could never hope to compete with. He supposed that was why he had always hated Gale with a passion he couldn’t quite explain. The man had always been cordial to him, almost to the point where it became painful, but there was something in the way Gale looked at him, as if his body knew how Randy felt too, even if his brain hadn’t managed to catch up. As if somehow the two men had aligned themselves like the earth’s poles, pretty much from the start, and their bodies were just waiting until they managed to work through what their heads told them. But it wasn’t hate he felt now. He wasn’t even upset. He mainly just felt a fool for believing that he could have made any significant impact on the guy standing in front of him, his stance careful, as if he was trying to placate a wounded deer. “My flight was cancelled,” Simon said, going with the explanation of his appearance rather than trying to make sense of the scene he had just witnessed. “I went to the studio but nearly everyone had left. Hal told me you would most likely be coming here.” It was Randy’s turn to nod, and then there was nothing else but silence. Simon looked between the two of them, inspecting Gale who stood behind Randy like his protector, ready to strike out if he said anything to hurt him. They looked so fucking good together, in a way he had never managed to pull off with Randy. They just fit. Their on-screen chemistry was part-testament to that, but it wasn’t just the sparks that flew between Brian and Justin that made them look so good together. It was something they had created too, between them, all on their own It was something Simon had always wanted for himself but had never been able to find the secret to. It was like some ancient code that he would never be a part of, no matter how much he tried. And now he was simply too tired to continue. “I’ll go and book myself into a hotel and get the next flight out tomorrow,” he said, half-expecting Randy to disagree and force him to stay with him. After all, it was the least he could do. But he didn’t. He just stood there, his head tilted downwards, his hair flopping over one eye in that way that endeared him to practically any hormonally driven person on the planet, gay or straight, and then glanced up to look him in the eyes. “Okay,” was all he said, and then he took a step back, moving next to Gale, who immediately placed one hand on his shoulder. Protecting him, looking out for him, lending his silent support. And yes, even claiming him. Simon took one last look, shaking his head at himself, at his own idiocy, and walked from the bar without a backwards glance. If he had looked back, he would have been forced to watch as Randy turned to look at Gale, his expression revealing little other than how suddenly misaligned he felt, and he would have to watch as Gale wrapped both arms around him and drew him against him without a single word. There was, indeed, nothing else that could be said. A few minutes after Simon had left, Randy pulled away from Gale and headed straight for the bar, ordering himself a shot which he knocked back before Gale had time to even reach him. It was swiftly followed by another. And another. And another. Gale sighed and slipped onto a bar stool next to him, ordering himself a whisky. He wanted to ask Randy what the hell was going on, what exactly he had meant by ‘it wasn’t a mistake’, but he didn’t dare to. Not just because Randy seemed hell bent on getting as drunk as possible, but also because he, Gale, wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with any of the ramifications he was sure the answer would bring. After his fifth shot, Randy glanced at Gale, his eyes bloodshot. “Am I a bad person?” he slurred. Gale sighed again. The last thing he wanted to do was get into a maudlin discussion with Randy, but if he had learnt anything about the man in the time he had known him, he knew that if he didn’t sit there and indulge him then Randy would probably order himself another half-dozen shots and then grab the nearest gay man and take him home to fuck into the mattress. And it wouldn’t be Gale. But, after all, what were friends for if they weren’t for keeping an eye out when their friends were drunk? Even if they felt like they were part of the problem in the first place. Gale hated that word - friends. He hated a lot of words if he was honest with himself. Words like ‘straight’. They always seemed to explain only part of the story, unable to deal with any slight variations on the norm. Gale made a face. That line of thinking would do little other than put him in a similar state to the one Randy was in. He glanced over, shaking his head a little when he saw Randy bent over the bar, his forehead resting on the top. Gale stood up and reached in his wallet, leaving enough money to cover both of their drinks, and placed a hand on the back of Randy’s neck. “C’mon, Rands, let’s get you home.” Randy groaned and with more than a little difficulty, finally managed to pull himself up off his stool. “Am I a bad person?” he repeated, trying to focus on Gale, his voice small. “No, you’re not a bad person,” Gale replied, and wrapped an arm around his waist in an effort to help him keep his balance as he walked him from the bar and towards his car. He could drive Randy back to get his in the morning.
“You would say that, you’re biased.” The pout was evident in Randy’s voice, and Gale had to hide a smile. That part was definitely true; he was biased. They drove in silence for the rest of the way, and Gale parked the car, going round to help Randy out before they headed into the building. Once inside, Gale steered Randy towards the bedroom - the best thing he could do was sleep it off; didn’t everyone always say things looked so much brighter in the morning? “Take your clothes off,” Gale ordered, once he had safely herded Randy inside. “Are you trying to take advantage of me?” Randy asked, eyeing him suspiciously. Gale snorted. “Don’t be stupid. You need to sleep and it will be a lot more comfortable if you do it without your clothes on.” “You just want to see me naked.” Randy stuck his bottom lip out petulantly and Gale had to resist the urge to dart forward and take it between his teeth, sucking lightly. “I see you naked all the time, Rands,” he pointed out. Randy considered this for a moment and then shrugged and raised his arms above his head, waiting for Gale to remove his shirt. Once he’d managed to tug it off, Gale automatically reached for Randy’s pants and started to undo them, rolling his eyes when Randy let out an undignified giggle. “You’re undressing me,” he said. “No shit,” Gale mumbled, wondering how the hell he got himself into the situation in the first place. He finally managed to pull Randy’s pants down -tight was good when he was admiring Randy’s ass, but definitely not so much when he was trying to get them off him without causing him to lose his balance- and steered him towards the bed. Randy slipped into the covers and snuggled down, letting out a small contented sound. Gale picked up his clothes and folded them over the back of a chair, then turned off the light and slipped out the door. He was just about to close it behind him, intending to make himself as comfortable as he could on the lumpy couch in the other room, when Randy spoke up. “Love you,” he mumbled against the pillow, and rolled over. Gale froze and glanced back at him, barely able to make out the shine of his hair against the dark blue of his sheets. He stood there for a moment, wondering what the hell he could say to that, when Randy let out a gigantic snore. Gale closed the door behind him softly and walked down the hall towards the living room. Whatever he had to say to Randy would have to wait. The next morning, Randy woke up and groaned, pushing his face further into the pillow. “Fuck…” He clenched his eyes shut as a wave of nausea washed over him, and finally rolled over onto his back, forcing his eyes open. He stared up at the ceiling for a second before it dawned on him that it wasn’t his own. He blinked and looked slowly around the room, taking in the wardrobe and dresser. His eyes finally fell on the battered leather jacket tossed over the back of a chair. Gale’s. “Oh God.” Randy groaned again as the night before came flooding back to him, and the look on Simon’s face when he couldn’t -wouldn’t- deny that he was standing there with Gale, kissing him, imprinted itself on his brain. He remembered Simon walking out of the bar, and his failure to chase after him. He remembered turning to the barman and knocking back shots, but after that? It was all just a blank. He didn’t think anything had happened after that, unfortunately. He didn’t smell of stale sex, and besides, Gale would never have taken advantage of the situation and tried anything on while he was drunk and trying to erase the guilt that scratched at the back of his eyes. Randy pulled himself out of bed and grabbed his jeans, somehow managing to squeeze himself into them, and opened the bedroom door, glancing warily down the hall before he walked down it towards the living room. Gale was in there, sprawled across the couch, his chest bare and a blanket tucked around his waist. One arm was hanging off the edge, his fingers grazing the carpet, the other thrown over his face, hiding his eyes. Randy paused, just staring at him, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t just stand there staring, making yourself useful and put some coffee on.” Gale removed his arm from his face and blinked up at him. “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize you were awake.” “Obviously.” Gale smirked and sat up, the blanket slipping down his legs to reveal his nudity. Randy blinked a couple of times, his eyes wide, and then glanced at the door before he looked back at him, his face flushed. “I…you…coffee. Right,” he mumbled and practically dived for the door into the kitchen, where he busied himself putting the kettle on. Moments later he jumped as Gale came into the room, now wearing jeans slung low on his hips, and he nudged Randy’s shoulder with his nose as he moved past him to the fridge and grabbed some juice. “How’s your head?” he asked, looking over at Randy as he found himself a glass. “I’ll live.” Randy shrugged and pulled out a chair, settling himself down at the table. Gale snorted and pulled out a chair opposite him, studying him intently in that silent way of his, sipping on his juice as he waited for Randy to say something. “Last night really happened, didn’t it?” Randy asked, looking half-hopeful, as if Gale told him it didn’t happen then he could pretend it hadn’t, as if his fate rested entirely in his hands. “Afraid so.” Randy nodded and ran one hand over his face. “Christ, I’m an asshole.” Gale shrugged. “That’s up for debate. Maybe it would have been better if you had told Simon you weren’t entirely interested before he found out for himself, but…” Gale trailed off and Randy quirked an eyebrow at him. “But…?” “But shit happens. This is real life not some fairytale. I’m sure he’ll get over it eventually.” Randy nodded slowly. “Maybe. But still, it’s not like I hate him. It’s not like he was throwing me around, leaving me black and blue or anything.” “So just because he didn’t abuse you it’s right to stay with him?” “No!” Randy jumped up and poured a couple of mugs of coffee, trying to distract his hands while he went over the thoughts spinning through his head. He put Gale’s mug down in front of him and sat back down. “I’m just saying that he was good to me,” he continued after a moment. “He was sweet and kind, and--” “Do you love him?” “What?” Randy looked up at Gale to find him staring at him with a strange expression on his face. “Do. You. Love. Him?” “I…” Randy floundered about for the right words. “I cared about him.” “But you didn’t love him?” “No.” Randy bit his lip and then took a sip of his coffee. “I didn’t love him.” He swallowed and glanced back at Gale. “But then, how many couples do you know who are honestly, properly in love?” Gale shrugged again, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know. I don’t think about other people.” The implied ‘I think about you’ hovered between them, unspoken, until Gale stood up and ran one hand through his hair, making it stick up a little at the back. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said, and Randy nodded absently, watching him as he moved towards the door. Gale stopped when he reached it, and glanced back over his shoulder, meeting Randy’s gaze. “Want to join me?” he asked, trying to hold back a grin that threatened to overtake his face when he saw how wide Randy's eyes had grown. “Want to join me?” he asked. Randy stared at him for a few moments, his head tilted, trying to work out whether he was being serious or not. It was hard to tell with Gale. He was looking over his shoulder with a playful grin on his lips, but there was something in his eyes that made Randy think it wasn’t a joke. There was an uncertainty there, almost as if he was afraid of what may happen if Randy said no; and hope too. Gale gave him a half-shrug and continued on his way into the bathroom; leaving him standing there in the kitchen, alone, wondering what the hell had just happened. Randy blinked when he heard the shower starting up, his weight shifting to his front foot, as if his body knew what it wanted to do, even if he didn’t. That was the problem, really. Randy wasn’t too sure if he should go ahead and join him. Sure, it would be fun. Of course it would, it was Gale he was talking about, after all. But he wasn’t sure if it was a wise decision to make. He could almost hear Gale’s mocking laughter in response to that thought, and how he would tell him that the notion of being wise is a relative concept, based on individual criteria, that to a hedonist, it would be the best decision he could make. But Randy wasn’t a hedonist. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was. He knew that if he took that final leap and made a move to join Gale in the shower, then it would change everything. It would take their tentative, flirty friendship to the next level, where they would have to make a decision, conscious or not, over where to take the rest of the relationship. Would it be a one-off? Would it become a regular habit? Would it be just about sex or would it be something more? Would there be rules similar to the ones Brian and Justin had, where they could both fuck other people but only once, and without kissing? Would Gale even care? Randy took a deep breath. He knew that part of his reluctance was down to guilt over the proceedings the night before. He felt bad because he was unable to tell Simon that there was nothing to the way he had danced with Gale, and after, how he had pressed himself up against him and stood up on tip-toes to kiss his lips. Ultimately, he felt bad because he never wanted to be that type of person. He had always considered himself able to be able to remain faithful to the person he was with, not only physically but emotionally too. He didn’t want to feel like the stereotypical man who thought with his dick, but that was exactly how he felt at that moment. He supposed that wasn’t fair. While it was accurate to say that there was a huge amount of chemistry and lust involved in his attraction to Gale, it went far deeper than that, which is why he hadn’t been able to write it off to begin with. There was something inexplicable there, running right under the surface, like an ever-flowing current. Every time Gale stepped into a room he was in he felt it, like his whole body suddenly perked up and turned in Gale’s direction. There was a strange mix of the familiar and the un-chartered between them. Randy had always felt at ease with Gale, right from the start, able to spill how he was feeling, what he was thinking, and more importantly, he felt that he was able to say anything and Gale wouldn’t laugh at him. But there was the undeniable sexual attraction there too, the same one that reared its head like a sniffer dog every time they had to perform a remotely physical scene together. And that unnerved Randy more than anything else. He had always been able to reign in his reactions to people, but he found it impossible with Gale. His body always took on a life of its own, whether he liked it or not. Randy bit his lip and looked back in the direction of the bathroom, and made his decision. Whatever the repercussions, however awkward they may end up feeling with each other afterwards, he knew what he had to do. He swallowed and left the room, following the curve of the hall towards the bathroom, and opened the door, blinking when the steam assaulted him. He slipped inside, his eyes adjusting, and closed the door, leaning back against it as if he was afraid he didn’t then he would pull it open again. Across the other side of the room, he managed to make out the outline of the shower stall, and all of a sudden, as was the way with those magic eye pictures he remembered from his childhood, Gale’s form became clear through the frosted glass. Randy blinked a couple of times, trying to get a grip on himself, and pushed away from the door, taking a step towards him. Showtime. -*- Gale turned around, his eyes widening slightly when Randy opened the shower and slipped in behind him. He turned around, looking at him, slowly taking in the calm expression on his face, and tried to decide whether he was shocked that Randy had actually joined him or not. He was half expecting him to point blank refuse and throw some sort of tantrum before storming out of the apartment, but he had just stood there, looking at him as if he was half-crazy. That was when Gale realized that there was a very real possibility that it could happen, that what he had partly said as a joke could actually become a reality if Randy wanted it enough. And it looked like he did. “This feels a little like Brian and Justin,” Randy said, snorting, and Gale automatically relaxed. This he could cope with. “Maybe,” he replied. “The situation is familiar, but it’s not them, Rands. It’s us.” Randy nodded and stepped forward a little, bringing himself closer to Gale, and ducked his head under the spray, plastering his hair to his head. He closed his eyes, letting the water course over his face, and then shook his head like a dog, spraying the sides of the shower, and Gale, with water droplets. Gale swallowed, suddenly feeling slightly out of his depth. It wasn’t that he had never been with a man before, he had, but it was well over a decade ago, and it had never been something serious, something that meant something to him. Whereas Randy did. Gale was horribly aware that this was Randy’s territory, not his, that he knew what he was doing, where things went, what felt good. Gale knew the basic mechanics, of course, but he was acutely aware that when compared to the fucking gorgeous guy standing in front of him, looking completely in his element, he knew nothing. Randy smiled up at him as if he knew what Gale was thinking, and took another step forward, pressing himself up against him. He placed one hand behind Gale, against the slick tiles beyond, and leant up, tilting his head, his breath warm when it ghosted out across his suddenly dry mouth. “Relax,” he whispered. “It may be Gale and Randy, but it isn’t all that different from what we do as Brian and Justin.” “You mean you’re going to make me wear a cock sock to do this?” Gale laughed, and all at once the ice broke, turning into a steam that rose up between them, hotter than the water that ran from the shower, made up from just their own lust and the proximity of their bodies. “No.” Randy shook his head and began placing kisses across the bottom of Gale’s jaw. “I don’t want anything between us.” He pushed forwards then, and Gale bit back a gasp, feeling Randy’s erection sliding against his water-slicked thigh. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, looking down at Randy, who was already slowly grinding himself against him, his mouth moving down to his neck to suck on the fluttering pulse point at the base of his throat. “Yes,” he breathed out against him, the words tickling Gale’s skin. “Why do you think it took me so long to come in here? I was trying to work out what I should do.” “And you want this?” Gale knew how unsure he sounded, and he hated that, but he wanted to know, without a doubt, that Randy wasn’t doing this as some sort of reaction to breaking up with Simon the previous night. He wanted it to be about them, not him. “I’ve always wanted this,” Randy replied, and pulled away from him, looking up at him with that expression he always got on his face when he truly believed what he’s saying - a fierceness that made his small frame seem so much bigger than it really was, as if he expanded to fill up all the space in the room. Gale nodded and bent down a little, hooking one arm over the back of Randy’s hip. “In that case,” he said, a wicked grin appearing on his lips. “Let’s make Brian and Sunshine proud shall we?” Randy’s response was to practically throw himself at him, pinning him back against the tiles, his lips crashing down upon his, born through a desperation that had been building up for the last few years, and had finally been given an outlet. Randy had half-imagined it to feel weird kissing Gale like that, as if he expected to automatically slip into the role of Justin, and Gale the role of Brian. He expected it to feel almost clinical, like his emotions had been pushed away behind a barrier and he was running on auto. But it wasn’t like that at all. Whatever dam he had put in place while he was kissing him as Justin had broken, and all of the feelings he had known were crashing at that barrier burst through with a force so strong it almost knocked him over. He broke the kiss, finally, gasping for breath, and blinked, almost surprised, when the room came back into focus and he found himself still in the shower, the water cooling as it rained down on them, suggesting they had been in there for longer than he had thought. “Bedroom…” He pulled on Gale’s hip and reached up to turn off the water, stumbling backwards out of the shower, dripping water all over the floor. Gale came with him automatically, practically falling over himself in an effort to keep as much skin-to-skin contact as he possibly could. Randy groped blindly for the door handle, his gaze fixed firmly on Gale’s face, almost as if he was afraid to look away, and they fell backwards into the bedroom, towards the bed. The frantic pace slowed right down then, Randy’s desperate lust quietening in favour of savouring what he hoped would be the first experience of many, and turned to push Gale down onto the mattress, standing there, just taking him in, his skin wet from the shower, his hair dripping against the pillow. “God, you’re beautiful…” Gale smiled, alerting him to the fact that he had spoken out-loud, and reached out for him, pulling him down against him. “Shhh,” he whispered, and leaned up, kissing across Randy’s jaw to claim his lips again. The kiss was slower this time, and they luxuriated in the taste of each other, both giddy from their decision to finally turn the constant chemistry they had experienced in the entire time they knew each other into something more. Something real. It was Gale who pulled back this time, dropping his head back against his pillow, suddenly nervous; and he looked up at Randy through hooded lids, partly from lust, but also from an automatic response to hide himself, to keep something back. “How are we going to do this?” he asked, in an almost-whisper. “I mean, I know how we do this, but…who is going to…” Randy laughed and nudged his cheek with his nose. “I don’t care.” “I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Gale admitted, and Randy grinned against the side of his face. “You’ve fucked people before,” he said. Gale snorted. “Probably more than my fair share, but most of them were women.” “Most of them?” Randy pulled back and quirked an eyebrow at him. “There were a couple of guys back in college. Just drunken messing around.” Gale shrugged like it was no big deal. Which it wasn’t, really. He could barely remember their faces never mind what he got up to with them. Randy nodded and started licking his ear, running his tongue around the whorl. “I’ll make it good,” he promised, his breath tickling him. Gale stilled for a second then nodded back. “I know. I trust you.” He closed his eyes, leaning into Randy, letting him take the lead, trying to qualm his heart beating faster than he really thought it should. It was stupid really, he mused; it wasn’t like he was a virgin. But there was something about the entire thing that made him nervous. He knew instinctively that this wasn’t just another fuck, that it meant something to Randy, and just as important, it meant something to him. Although what that was he couldn’t begin to even think about. Part of his nerves he put down to a ridiculous fear about bottoming. Not specifically for Randy, but in general. He automatically knew it would leave him feeling vulnerable in a way he had never felt with a woman, and he already felt raw enough, like an open wound that needed to be treated properly else it would heal with a scar. It was stupid, he knew that. He trusted Randy more than he trusted anybody else, even himself, but he was used to having some sort of semblance of control when it came to sex at least, and this was new territory for him. Randy’s territory. Gale blinked, his eyes flying open when Randy’s mouth left its exploration of his neck, worried that Randy had changed his mind and was about to get dressed and leave. It would make working with him awkward as hell, but that was the least of his worries. He knew then that he didn’t want to lose Randy, lose the closeness they had shared practically from the start, and lose the chance he thought they may have been creating for themselves over the past few years. Randy sat up and straddled his waist, smiling down at him in reassurance, and ran his hands down his chest, causing him to shiver. His fingers danced down over his abdomen and gently, with a touch so light it could barely be felt, traced his fingertips over the head of his cock, causing it to twitch. “Close your eyes,” he commanded, and without even thinking about it, Gale complied, relaxing as Randy massaged one hand across his torso, the other tracing circles over his hips, occasionally darting back to his cock again as if they couldn’t stay away. He lost himself then, to the feelings washing over him, ceasing to think about the implications of what he was doing, what it would mean for their friendship, what it meant for him and how he identified himself. In that moment it was just pure, simple pleasure at Randy’s touch, something that seemed wholly right, no matter what the fearful parts of his brain had been telling him. His eyes snapped open, despite Randy’s request, when he heard the sound of a foil packet being torn open, and he bit his lip, watching as Randy took the condom between his fingers. This was it. No going back. Gale furrowed his brow when instead of placing the condom on his own cock, Randy leant over and rolled it calmly onto Gale’s. “What--” he began, and was silenced with Randy’s mouth as he bent down and crushed his lips onto his, snaking his tongue into his mouth. It became all about touch then: the feeling of tongue sliding across tongue, a hand smoothing down his side, fingers rolling a nipple between their tips, and there, right there, the silky smoothness of Randy’s entrance underneath the head of his cock as Randy used him to stroke across himself, little whimpering sounds escaping from his throat and disappearing between Gale’s lips. It was like a slow torture, and Gale arched impatiently, pushing himself through the fist of his hand and further against him, trying to get more contact, more heat, more Randy. Randy laughed into his mouth and in a single smooth motion pressed his hips down against him, allowing the tip of him to slip just inside, past the first ring of tight muscle that opened up into his core. Gale moaned, his head falling sideways, breaking the kiss, and swallowed hard, trying to ride with the sudden hot tightness enveloping his cock, barely able to catch his breath for a single moment before Randy was pushing down again, taking all of him completely inside himself until Gale’s cock was buried to the hilt, his balls flush against his ass. Randy stilled then, giving himself a few seconds to adjust, and then began to move languidly, rocking his hips, placing one palm flat on Gale’s chest, the other hand gripping his waist. Gale looked up, drawn automatically to the sight of him thrusting above him, and made a soft sound, his hand moving down to wrap around Randy’s hardened cock, his fingers stroking him in a rhythm that matched their thrusts, almost without even having to think about it. He watched him intently, unable to keep his eyes away from him, and Randy looked back, a small smile playing across his lips, content to move slowly on top of him, trying to draw it out for as long as he possibly could. However much Gale wanted it to last and last, he knew that it wasn’t likely, not with the way Randy rode him naturally, as if he had been doing it all his life, that cocky little grin on his face as if he was saying ‘see? We could have been doing this all along if only you weren’t such a stubborn shit’. Gale shifted his hips, forcing them upwards, burying himself as deeply as he could into Randy, and watched with fascination as he brushed against a spot inside of him that made Randy throw his head back, exposing the porcelain column of his throat, and let out a groan. It was a sound he had never heard Justin make, and it spurred him on, grasping Randy’s hip with his other hand as he continued to stroke his cock, his thumb brushing over his slit on every second thrust, any nerves he had felt beforehand melting away in a pool of heat that collected in his stomach, sending sparks down his legs to his toes, that curled slightly as he felt his orgasm threatening to over-take him. Randy instinctively knew that he was close, and lifted himself up, almost completely off Gale, before slamming down again, biting down on his bottom lip as another groan tried to slip out between his lips. He picked up the pace then, shoving himself down as hard as he possibly could, impaling himself on him, and watched as Gale screwed his eyes tightly shut, his fingers flexing against his hip, and then came inside him with a series of sudden spurts, his cock throbbing in his depths. Spent, Gale lay boneless on the bed, his hips jerking sporadically in the aftermath of his climax, and Randy re-doubled his efforts, spurred on by the added stimulation of watching Gale come, finally, for real this time, not in some fucked-up parody orgasm he always managed to pull out for Brian, amazed at how different he looked, how much better. A half-dozen or so thrusts later and Randy was coming too, his cock thrusting desperately into Gale’s hand as he spurted across his abdomen and chest. He collapsed against Gale once he had finished, gluing them both together, pulling off his cock as he became flaccid underneath him, and curled instinctively against him, Gale’s arms moving up to wrap around his waist and pull him closer. “Brian’s sitting in my head looking smug,” Gale told him, unable to keep the grin from his face, and Randy chuckled, placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Justin says it was always inevitable, a bit like how it was for him and Brian,” he replied. “You really think so?” Randy nodded. “I know so.” “You always were the wiser of the two of us.” Gale cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at him, still smiling. “Damn straight!” Randy replied. “I don’t know about that…” They exchanged a look, and both grinned. Gale glanced down at Randy, his head resting against his chest, his hair spilling out across his flesh, his eyes closed, and reached down to brush his thumb over his cheek. “Randy?” “Mhmm?” Randy made a small contented sound like a cat, and curled a little closer, his palm flat over one of Gale’s nipples. Gale sighed and lifted his hand, running it through the strands of Randy’s hair. “Do you think that maybe we should talk about this?” “Do we really have to do it now?” Randy’s fingers twitched slightly and he raised his head, meeting Gale’s eyes. “We’re going to have to sooner or later, so it may as well be now,” Gale reasoned, and Randy groaned before shifting up Gale’s body and flopping down next to him, propping his chin in his hand. “Okay. Go ahead.” Gale furrowed his brow, looking thoughtful. It was one thing to know that the sensible thing was to talk about what had just transpired between them, and entirely another to come up with the right words to begin. “We just fucked, right?” he began, and Randy quirked one eyebrow. “Right…” he replied, looking confused, unsure where Gale was heading with this. “I think we need to establish what that means. Whether it is about sex or something else. I mean, either way is fine, but I think we need to be sure we are thinking along the same lines…” “Because we have to work together,” Randy replied. “Because we have to simulate sex practically every day of our lives.” “Something like that,” Gale agreed. Randy nodded and tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m okay with it if it is just this one time. I guess I’m happy I know now that I got to see what it was like.” “Yeah. I get that.” They were silent for a few minutes, lost in their respective thoughts, then suddenly Gale laughed, rolling his eyes at himself. “What’s so funny?” Randy asked, glancing over at him. “Us,” he replied. “We’ve been close practically from the start but here we are both picking our words carefully so that we don’t reveal too much or be the one who has to take the first leap.” Randy snorted. “You got me figured out pretty well.” “I guess so.” Gale replied, and rolled onto his stomach, folding his arms, and dropped his head down on top, watching Randy sideways on. “Honestly, I’m not sure what I want,” Randy said, looking at him seriously. “I know I want what we just did, and I know that as far as how I feel, there is more. I just--” “I understand,” Gale interrupted, before he could hear any more. “You’ve just finished with Simon and you’re not sure where your head is at. It’s okay.” Randy shook his head. “It’s not that at all. Simon and I, we may have been together but I don’t think my mind was really on him. It was fixated by the idea of what he represented more than anything.” “Which was?” “Stability. A sense of unity with another person. I guess I was tired of searching and tired of being unhappy.” Gale sighed and closed his eyes. “You should have stayed with him.” “What the hell for?” Randy replied, a little harshly, even to his own ears, and immediately softened his voice. “I wasn’t truly happy, I just made myself think I was. And I certainly wasn’t in love. The entire time I was with him, my thoughts were elsewhere. With someone else…” Gale opened his eyes and stared back at him, wondering if he was going to quit skirting around the issue any time soon and actually come out and say it; and they lapsed into silence again. “What do you want?” Randy asked, breaking it finally, and Gale blinked a couple of times, looking at him. “You.” “There is a ‘but’ in there,” Randy replied, ever perceptive. “I can see it in your eyes.” “I don’t know if I’m ready to identify myself as gay. In the public eye especially.” “Who said you had to?” Gale sighed again and reached up to rub at the bridge of his nose. “You fucking well know how it is. I will be hounded by the press for the rest of eternity, asking me why I didn’t just admit I was gay in the first place.” “You were confused, it’s okay,” Randy answered, trying to reassure him. “But I wasn’t!” Gale chewed on his bottom lip then sat up, facing Randy, and crossed his legs underneath himself. “I like women. I’m straight.” Randy snorted. “I hate to tell you this but you just fucked a guy.” “Actually a guy just fucked himself on me.” Gale grinned, trying to lighten the atmosphere, almost rolling his eyes in frustration when Randy didn’t do as much as crack a small smile. “You can’t be straight,” he persisted. “You can’t be stupid enough to think you can be straight and attracted to guys.” “I’m not though. I’m attracted to you.” “I hate to tell you Gale, but last time I looked I had a penis.” Gale snorted and reached across, running one hand across Randy’s stomach, his fingers darting lower until the tips brushed against his cock. “I know that,” he whispered. “I’m not denying you’re male. I’m certainly not going to say something stupid along the lines of me not really noticing because there’s something there that transcends all gender. I’m just saying that for the most part I go for women. You just happen to be an incredibly sexy exception to the rule.” “Okay…” Randy blinked, trying to get his head around that. “So why not tell the journalists exactly that?” “Because who the hell would understand it?” Gale replied. “I like women but I want to be with a guy. I’m not usually attracted to men but to you I am. Because you’re different.” “Woah, wait. Rewind.” “What?” “Rewind,” Randy repeated, and then went on to elaborate. “You want to be with me?” Gale looked sheepish and averted his eyes. “Uhm…” Randy’s response was to sit up and tug at Gale’s hands until he uncurled them from the slight fists he had made, and then lifted them, one at a time, and kissed each of the knuckles in turn. “I think I may get used to liking that idea too,” he whispered, before he gently pulled him back down, and they collapsed against the bed in a tangle of limbs. A couple of hours later, Randy awoke to the sound of banging. He blearily opened his eyes and nudged Gale, who had somehow managed to fall asleep sprawled half on top of him. “Mhmm?” “Gale, I think there’s someone at the door.” “They’ll go away.” Gale shifted on top of him then snuggled in closer, drifting back to sleep. The hammering continued, growing in volume. “Gale, whoever it is, it doesn’t look like they’re going to go any time soon.” “Fuck. You get it.” Randy raised one eyebrow. While he didn’t have any problem with getting the door, he wasn’t so sure that if he were more awake, Gale would really appreciate it. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Randy asked, nudging him again. Gale groaned and rolled off him, burying his face against one of his pillows. “Don’t care. Just make it stop…” Randy sighed and heaved himself up, rummaging around on the floor for his jeans, and quickly pulled them on before making his way down the hall towards the front door. “Alright! Shut up, I’m coming!” He threw open the door only to be confronted by a desperate looking Hal, one hand raised in a fist ready to bang against the door again. “What the..?” Randy blinked, suddenly incredibly conscious of his current state of undress, a dot-to-dot puzzle of bite marks making their way across his chest and up his throat. “Makeup are going to love you,” Hal remarked, one eyebrow raised, and pushed his way into the apartment, seemingly un-phased by the obvious implications of Randy answering Gale’s door, looking thoroughly fucked. Randy shrugged and closed the door behind him, following him back down the hall towards Gale’s bedroom. “He’s asleep,” he began to protest too late as Hal threw open the door and stalked in, turning on the light, and went straight over to sit down on the edge of the bed, shoving Gale none too lightly. “Wake the fuck up!” he ordered, and Gale groaned again, trying to burrow himself further into the bed. “Why’d you let him?” he mumbled. “I didn’t. He sort of…barged in…”Randy replied. “And with good reason!” Hal jumped in, and then sighed, glancing back at Randy. “There was a call at the studio. CowLip are pissed…” That grabbed Gale’s attention, and he sat up, struggling with the covers he had somehow managed to cocoon himself in. “What are they mad about?” he asked, in what was Randy’s opinion, reluctant tones. Hal shook his head. “How could you two be so stupid? We all knew you were fucking, but--”
“Right. Whatever. The point is, that’s okay, fuck each other all you want, but couldn’t you have figured all this out between you before you brought other people into it?” His look was directed at Randy, but it was clear he was including both of them in his reprimand. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Gale asked, and then began to mumble to himself about needing a cigarette. Randy automatically reached for the half-empty pack he had seen on the dresser, and tossed it to Gale, along with a lighter. “What I am going on about,” Hal continued,” is your lovely journalist boyfriend, Randy.” “Ex-boyfriend,” Randy corrected instinctively, which earned him a tiny smile from Gale that he couldn’t quite hide in time as he took a drag on his cigarette. “Ex.” Hal waved one hand dismissively. “He called the studio this morning, threatening to out Gale and reveal you two as partners. According to him you have fucking the entire duration of your relationship with him.” “That isn’t true!” Randy began pacing. “Christ, what did I ever do to him?” Hal gave him a look. “Okay, don’t answer that.” Randy ran one hand through his hair and then tried to think logically. “You said he threatened to write the article, implying he wants something to stay quiet. What is it?” “Clever boy.” Hal snorted. “He wanted an exclusive interview with Gale, during which he decides to ‘come out’ for himself, so to speak.” “Fuck!” “Rands, calm down.” Randy looked over at Gale, who was propped up against his headboard, quietly smoking.
“Of course it is. He’s never liked me. Even less now, I imagine.” Gale took another drag on his cigarette then held it out to Randy, who crossed the floor and flopped down next to him before plucking it from his fingers. “I don’t know what I ever saw in him in the first place,” Randy muttered to himself, and took a long drag, exhaling slowly. Gale and Hal exchanged an amused look. Obviously they had both wondered exactly the same thing themselves. “Randy, it’s okay. If anything it will boost the ratings of the show, and--” “Fuck the ratings!” Randy stared at Gale. “He doesn’t get to mess with something like this. Not someone’s choice over whether they want to come out or not.” “Rands, it’s no big deal…” Gale shifted a little closer and reached for his free hand, pulling it across to rest in his lap. “Yes. It. Is.” Randy took another drag and then glanced at Gale, sighing deeply. “Leave it up to me. I’ll talk to him.” “I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Hal said, speaking up, and Gale nodded. “It might make things worse.” “I don’t think things can get any worse,” Randy replied, with a snort, and pulled away from Gale before handing his cigarette back. “Where’s your phone?” he asked, and stood up. Randy drummed his fingers against the counter top in the kitchen as he dialled through to Simon’s cell phone, and screwed up his face in annoyance when it cut through to his voice-mail. “Heeeeeeellloooooooo, you have reached Simon’s joint….” Randy rolled his eyes. “If you leave your name and number then I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Hopefully within two days but it could be longer…” Randy drummed his fingers faster, waiting for the sound that would indicate he could leave a message. “Finally! Simon, what the fuck do you think you’re playing at? I know you’re mad, probably hurt too, but there’s no need to drag Gale through a media minefield just to satisfy your thirst for revenge!” Randy took a breath, preparing to go on, when there was a click indicating the phone had been picked up at the other end of the line. “Simon?” “Hey there, Randy! How’s it going?” Simon’s voice was unnaturally calm, which only served to infuriate Randy even more. “How’s it going?” he repeated, the pitch of his voice going up a notch. “It was going well, until you decided to stick your two cents in!” “You sound angry, Randy. Is there some kind of problem?” Randy blinked and sat down hard on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. “Yes there’s a problem! You’re the fucking problem! What the hell do you think you’re doing calling the studio and demanding an exclusive interview with Gale?!” He practically spat the words out, then sat silently, waiting for Simon to defend himself, the only noise the pounding of his heart as he tried to get his anger under control. “Oh. That.” “Yes, that! Did you really think you would get away with it?” “Blood pressure, Randy,” Simon chastised, then paused, sighing. “Look, I only did what any sane man would do in the same situation. It’s no big deal.” “You call yourself sane?” Randy scoffed. “This is absurd! What on earth do you think you’re going to gain from this?” “Well, there’s always my career to think about, but if a revealing…,” he drew the word out, making it sound seedy and cheap, “…interview with one of the hottest stars in America doesn’t push me up a couple of rungs on the ladder, there is always personal satisfaction to fall back upon.” “Simon…” Randy replied, a warning tone in his voice. “What? Did you really think I would let him get away with stealing you from right under my nose? I’ve always known how he felt, sneaking little looks when he thought I wasn’t watching, and those oh-so-discreet touches to your arm or your thigh. You think I didn’t notice any of that?” Randy sighed. “It’s not going to make you feel better by hurting Gale. I know you and you’re just going to feel guilty afterwards.” Simon laughed. It was a harsh sound and it caused Randy to cringe. He jumped when he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, and glanced up to find Gale standing behind him, quietly watching his face. “I’m not going to feel guilty,” Simon said, bitterness oozing out of his voice and down the line, making Randy’s skin crawl. “Especially now I know it matters to you as much as I thought it would matter to him.” “Simon, don’t…” Randy answered, in a slightly pleading tone, and closed his eyes when Gale began to silently knead at the tightened knot of muscles in his shoulders. Simon laughed again. “What’s it worth?” Randy swallowed before answering. “What do you want?” “I want you back, Randy,” Simon replied instantly, his voice smooth, almost as if he thought he was being alluring. “I want you back where you rightfully belong. With me.” Randy shook his head, even though he knew Simon couldn’t see, his eyes opening again. “No, I don’t,” he told him. “Not anymore. Maybe not ever.” He could almost imagine Simon sitting wherever-the-fuck he was, his eyes narrowing, his jaw clenching, as he hissed his response. “That’s what you think…” He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice had changed, becoming almost jovial. “Oh well, Randy, whatever you want. It’s your choice in the end. You remember that when Gale is splashed all over the tabloids. I can just imagine his expression now, when the reporters turn up in droves. He won’t be able to leave his apartment.” Randy wet his lips, trying to think up a response, when Simon hung up on him, leaving him to listen to the repetitive dial tone. Randy put Gale’s phone back down in its cradle on top of the counter, and dropped his forehead onto the cool surface. “I take it you had no luck?” Gale asked quietly, and for the first time, Randy wondered how the hell he could be so calm about it. “No luck,” he confirmed, shaking his head, aware of Gale’s hands as they started their soothing massage once again. An hour and many shocked exclamations later, and Gale finally managed to convince Hal there was nothing he could do to help the situation, so he may as well go home. He shut the door behind him, and leant back against it, reaching up to rub at his temples with his fingers, feeling the stirrings of a headache within. He glanced across at Randy, standing there at the end of the hall, watching him, and pushed away from the door, taking a step towards him, offering him a small smile. “Bet you’re sorry you ever got mixed up in this,” Randy said, tilting his head to one side, an unreadable expression on his face. Gale furrowed his brows and leant forward, grasping Randy’s shoulders. “I’m not sorry we did what we did. I’m just sorry that it happened like that; I should have gotten a clue long before now.” Randy shrugged. “I should have said something about how I felt sooner.” Gale signed and pulled him in the direction of the living room, pushing him down on the couch, before flopping down next to him. “I’ve known for a long time how you felt.” “You have?” Randy looked up at him, confusion painted across his features. Gale nodded. “I was too freaked out by the idea of it to do anything about it.” “And now you’re not?” “I’m still freaked out,” Gale admitted, with a laugh. “I just…I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I couldn’t ignore you.” Randy nodded and the two of them lapsed into silence for a few moments. “How come you’re so calm about all of this?” Randy spoke up, suddenly. “If it was me, I would be so angry.” Gale chewed on his lip, considering it. “I don’t really see the big deal. I mean, Simon can write the article but it doesn’t mean anyone would believe it. I could easily deny it and claim he was taking it out on the nearest available person because he was mad you ditched him. Nobody would be any the wiser.” Randy nodded, looking down at his hands. “So, I take it you don’t want to go public then?” Gale sighed and stood up. “You want a beer?” Randy nodded slowly and watched as he disappeared into the kitchen and re-appeared a few minutes later with an opened bottle in each hand. Gale handed him one and sat down again, propping his feet up against the small coffee table, and took a long drink from his bottle before continuing. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for something like that yet.” He looked across at Randy. “Don’t get me wrong, what I said before…I meant it. I want to see where this thing between us will go. But it’s all so new. I gave a god damn interview saying I was straight, for Christ’s sake!” “I know. That magazine went straight into the garbage.” Randy smiled slightly and shot him a look. “I thought that was it, no more chances for us.” “Yeah, well. I was an idiot.” Randy took a sip of his beer and ran one hand through his hair. “I’m not going to let him get away with this, you know. I’ll do whatever I can to stop him.” “I know.” Gale reached across and took Randy’s hand, squeezing it. “It will work out somehow, don’t worry.” Randy squeezed his hand back and moved a little closer, resting his head against Gale’s shoulder. “So, you want to keep this quiet, for now?” “Yeah. Well, as much as we can. I don’t think for one moment that everyone at the studio will be fooled.” “No. I expect not.” Randy grinned up at him. “I imagine by the time we go in to work tomorrow, everyone will know about it. Hal can’t keep anything to himself for long.” “Oh well. I suppose we’d better make the most of the secrecy while we can then.” Gale raised an eyebrow and took Randy’s beer off him, before putting both of the bottles down on the table. He turned to Randy and took his face in both of his hands, leaning in to run his tongue along his top lip and then his bottom, enticing him to part them. Randy murmured appreciatively and pressed himself closer, running one hand down Gale’s chest to his stomach, splaying his fingers out across one hip. That’s when the phone started ringing. “Ignore it,” Gale whispered, pressing a series of kisses across Randy’s mouth and chin, dragging his tongue across his jaw line to his throat. “The answering machine will pick it up.” Randy made a noise Gale took to be agreement, and tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head, and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder, his eyes roaming down over his chest, watching as his nipples hardened under his gaze. “Mr. Harold? Evening Gazette. I’ve just received a call from a reliable source, telling me that you want to hold a conference with a number of publications. Something about wanting to discuss your sexuality. Call me on…” Gale froze and pulled his mouth away from Randy, looking at him with wide eyes. “How the fuck did they get my number?” “Oh God.” Randy buried his face in his hands. “I called Simon from your phone. He must have dialled and got your number.” The phone rang again and the answering machine picked it up. “Washington Post, Mr. Harold. Just had a call…” Gale jumped up and stalked across the room into the kitchen. Randy cringed when he heard the smash as the phone flew across the room and hit the wall. -*- The rest of the day, and indeed the evening, was spent in relative silence, Gale pacing around his apartment like a caged animal, a pensive expression on his face, watched by Randy, who was curled up on the couch, occasionally breaking into a tirade of curses that included his new epithet for Simon: ‘The fucking bastard piece of scum.’ “Do you want me to go?” Randy asked, after a few hours had passed, and Gale’s pacing showed no signs of relenting. “What?” Gale paused in what must have been his eight-hundredth trip across the floor of the living room. “Why?” “I just thought maybe you wanted to be alone. To figure things out.” “No. Don’t go.” Gale dropped down onto the couch next to him, sprawling. “It’s not your fault your ex-boyfriend is an asshole.” Randy nodded. He wasn’t sure he exactly agreed with Gale’s sentiment, however well-meant. He felt, at least in part, responsible for what had happened. After all, it was all about him, wasn’t it? -*- The next morning rose, and with it Gale and Randy, as disgruntled as they had been the night before, neither looking like they had gotten much sleep, and not for the reasons they would have preferred. Gale drove them both to the studio in silence, and they sat in the parking lot, the usual morning mist spilling out across the concrete, submerging the wheels of Gale’s car in a foggy sea. “I’ve decided what I’m going to do,” Gale said, suddenly, as Randy reached for the handle of the door, about to get out. “You have?” Randy turned to face him, his determination to get into the studio and get on with his day all but forgotten. Gale nodded and undid his seatbelt, leaning back against his seat. “I’m going to go through with it.” “Go through with what?” Randy furrowed his brows and looked over at him, trying not to think too much about what he could possible mean, forcing his brain not to get carried away with itself. “According to the numerous people who called yesterday, Simon indicated that I wanted to give an interview to multiple media reps.” “Gale, no…” Randy looked aghast. “Why not?” Gale looked at Randy sharply. “May as well get my side of the story in first. And if it means the little weasel won’t get to write his article before any one else does…” He paused, shrugging. “But…you hate interviews!” Randy protested, letting out a long breath that puffed out and misted up the windscreen. “You have always said you hate how you freeze up and come across like a bumbling idiot. Besides, why do you have to do anything at all? It’s almost like admitting guilt.” “I’ve got nothing to feel fucking guilty for! I fell in…I started to like someone who had a partner. It happens. It’s not exactly the crime of the century, is it?” “No,” Randy replied wryly. “Technically I committed that.” Gale rolled his eyes. “And what was that? You liked me back? You evil person, Randy, really. You’re going to go straight to queer hell, whatever that may be like.” Randy cracked a smile. “A bunch of heterosexual people going at it everywhere I look, no doubt.” Gale grinned back, before his expression sobered. “Seriously, Rands, it could be worse. We didn’t sleep together. Not until after you broke up with him, anyway.” “I would have though. I know I would. If Simon hadn’t turned up at the bar when he had, I would have gulped down a few more drinks and ended up in your bed.” Gale shrugged, trying not to look too smug about that revelation. “It doesn’t matter. You didn’t. We didn’t, and that’s the point.” Randy sighed and glanced out of his window, watching as Peter pulled up into the parking lot and looked curiously over towards the car, his eyebrows shooting straight up into his hairline. Gale gave him a little wave and a cheeky grin, causing Randy to slap his arm down, laughing. “Gale, if you don’t want to make this public,” he said, grinning all over the place, “then stop perpetrating your own rumours.” Gale snorted and dropped his hand back to his side, pulling his gaze away from Peter as he vanished from sight. He opened the glove box and rummaged around for a few seconds, pulling out a crumpled packet of cigarettes, lighting one. “There always were rumours,” he replied, offering the pack to Randy, who shook his head. “Anyway, like I already told you, I don’t think we’re going to be able to hide anything from everyone in there.” He inclined his head towards the studio. Randy looked towards the building and nodded slowly. “You’re probably right.” The two of them sat in silence for a couple of minutes, then Randy stirred, reaching for the door handle again. “Ready to face the music?” “I don’t know about that,” Gale answered. “But I guess I’m going to have to get used to it. Their teasing is definitely going to go up a gear when they get a sniff of what’s happened.” Randy quirked an eyebrow in response and got out of the door, slamming it behind him. Gale joined him a second later, locking the car before tossing his half-finished cigarette to the ground, where it vanished in a haze of fog, and they headed into the studio, side by side. Once inside the studio building, Randy and Gale headed straight to the canteen, just as they would on any other day. As they entered the room, their nostrils were attacked by the pungent smell of frying bacon and brewing coffee, and they each asked the lady serving behind the counter for the breakfast they ordered every morning. They sat down, side by side, at one of the tables, exchanging a small look, wondering when on earth their calm would break into a full on, raging storm. Hal entered the canteen first, and piled a plate high with sausages and scrambled eggs, before joining them at their table, sinking into a seat opposite, mumbling a hasty ‘morning’ before he tucked into his food. Randy raised an eyebrow at Gale, who shrugged in response. Hal had already encountered their shifting relationship the previous day, so his lack of reaction that morning didn’t particularly come as any great surprise. What’s more, despite their feelings to the contrary, suspecting that their co-workers would automatically know something had changed between them, the way they sat at the table did little to reveal their new status. Peter walked into the room next, and paused in the doorway, tilting his head as he looked in their direction, studying them contemplatively for a second before shaking his head as if he was waking himself up, and moved towards the counter where he ordered a bowl of cereal and a cappuccino. He smiled as he placed his breakfast down on the table, and sat down next to Hal, immediately engaging him in a conversation about a scene they were shooting that morning. Randy and Gale exchanged another look, and Peter glanced up sharply, giving them a wink before returning his attention back to Hal. Thea walked in next, chattering away to Scott, with Michelle closely behind them, her eyes half shut, looking like she’d had rather a late night. The three of them ordered their breakfast, barely glancing towards the table where the others sat, and went and took their places at another. Sharon walked in last, shooting little looks between Gale and Randy, causing them to shift uncomfortably in their seats, and took her time getting her food before walking over to them, her smile getting wider and wider as she approached. She sat down next to Peter, with a ‘hello boys’, and took a sip of her herbal tea. She cut into her poached eggs, eating a mouthful, before wiping her mouth with a napkin and clearing her throat. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said, finally speaking up, and Peter and Hal paused in their conversation over who had the best wardrobe out of Michael and Emmett, and whether their fashion sense had improved from last season. “How did you find out?” Gale asked, knowing it was pretty damn useless trying to pretend he had no idea what she was talking about; the game was already up. “You think I’ve been in this business for as long as I have without making any contacts?” Sharon replied, and took another sip of her tea before continuing. “In my opinion, this isn’t a question of how this happened, because anyone who knows you two knows that it has been a long time in the making. The question is, what the hell are you going to say to all of those journalists?” She directed her question at Gale, but it was Randy who answered. “I don’t see why he has to say anything! It’s none of their business. This is about us. Not them” “Don’t take this the wrong way, Randy,” Peter chimed in, obviously completely clued in on what they were discussing, despite his earlier, seemingly oblivious demeanour. “No matter that it’s your personal lives. You’re considered public property.” Randy let out a frustrated growl, and Gale shot him a look, placing one hand on his leg under the table, trying to calm him down. “I know you don’t like that side of things,” Sharon said, “but it is a part of the life you have chosen to live, whether you want to accept it or not. You’ve seen how people react to us, to you. The media want to know everything they can about you because they know it sells papers. And as for the fans…” She trailed off, eating some more of her eggs, and Hal continued where she left off. “You’ve been at the signings,” he said. “You’ve seen how they think they know you, how they almost see you as a friend just because they have developed an attachment to your character.” “But I’m not Justin!” Randy protested. “And Gale isn’t Brian.” “No, we’re not,” Gale replied, and turned to face him. “But that isn’t going to stop people thinking we are. And this…the idea that two people who play lovers can become lovers themselves, it’s the perfect scenario. The public eat that sort of thing up. They would see it not just as life imitating art, which is at least understandable in and of itself, but as a god damn given right. Almost as if we have to be together because Brian and Justin are.” Randy sighed and sipped at his coffee. “Right. Whatever the reality is, I still hate it.” “I know. I don’t like it either,” Gale answered. “But that’s exactly how it is. And I’ve got a feeling if we’re going to give ourselves, as Randy and Gale, any sort of real chance at anything, we have to think this through carefully.“ Sharon nodded. “At least you have a few days to think about it. Better to plan in advance what’s going to be said, and which way you want to play it.” “It’s not just about whether you want to admit to being gay or straight, is it?” Randy asked, sounding resigned. “It’s about whether we admit to being together or not. Whether we think we stand a better chance coming out to the public or keeping it a secret.” Gale nodded, keeping quiet, sensing there was more to come. He wasn’t wrong. “Christ!” Randy laughed. “I never thought I would have to make the decision whether to stay in a closet or come out again. I thought I had passed all that when I was a teenager!” He looked down at his coffee, draining it, and glanced up at Gale before scraping back his chair, making a horrible sound on the floor that forced everyone to cringe, and stalked from the room, leaving it in complete silence. Chapter 17 Randy stalked from the room and took off down the corridor, not really watching where he was going. He looked up as he reached the end, and confronted with a closed metal door, pushed it open and escaped outside, into the back parking lot. Where, in his opinion, it had all started. It was absurd, of course. It had started long before a couple of days ago, when Gale caught him outside of the studio before work. Where they had lingered a little too long, said a little too much (but not enough, never enough), and which they had managed to let spill over into the little scene in the bedroom that they had to perform less than an hour later, not as Gale and Randy, but as Brian and Justin. From there it just gathered up speed, like a car with faulty brakes on the top of a hill, and one thing led to another. The bar, where they danced to a song much to slow to let them believe it was about friendship, a little too closely to brush off as something insignificant. And then there was the kiss. And Randy couldn’t blame that on anybody but himself. He had wanted to kiss Gale. Hell, he had always wanted to kiss him, from the first moments he had set eyes on him when they were bundled into a little windowless room together and for the first time realized the enormity of signing their contracts for the show. But it was one thing, Randy knew, to want to kiss Gale. Lust was something he was familiar with, and however annoying it could sometimes be, he could push it to the far recesses of his mind and get on with his job. But then he got to know Gale, to hear how he sounded when he was carefree and happy, and he threw his head back and laughed that god damn laugh of his that cut through to Randy’s core. He had spent time with him, first in the guise of familiarising themselves with each other so they could bring an edge of realism to their characters, both of them determined to be the best actors they could possibly be. They were committed to their work, to their craft, and they managed, at least for those first few months, to pretend that anything between them was simply a means to the end - a way of perfecting the chemistry they had to share on screen. But then, as time passed, they spent more time with each other than was strictly necessary. They no longer needed the accessory of their scripts. Instead of turning up at Gale’s door with a script under one hand, a take-out bag in the other, Randy would show up with a bottle of whisky, sometimes a movie. It was such an easy transition from co-workers to friends, that Randy didn’t even realize it when it developed into something more than that. He had, for all intent and purposes, blinked and missed the boat. His first thoughts when he woke up in the morning would always be of Gale: how he would be feeling after the amount he drank the night before, whether he would be able to listen to his alarm call for once instead of slamming his fist into the top of it, breaking his third clock in as many months. He would think about him as he drove to the studio, wondering whether he would turn up in time for them to share a coffee before shooting, giving them a few more minutes to discuss any ideas for their scenes. He would think about him during their scenes, of course he would, but it didn’t occur to him that the thoughts were not entirely within the realm of what an actor should be thinking about with his co-star. He wouldn’t be wondering about how Gale would make Brian behave in a certain scene, or how far he would go in the quest of Brian’s orgasm, or much of himself he would pour into his character. Instead, he would be wondering about whether any of his reactions were real, if any of them were because of something he, Randy had done, rather than Justin. He would think about him as he changed back into his normal clothes after filming, making the transition from Justin back to Randy, rushing as much as he could so he could catch Gale before he walked back to his car and skidded away down the road. He would go over in his head how their evening may go if he managed to catch up with him. How they would grab a bite to eat at one of the quieter restaurants down town before going on to a bar, perhaps a club if he was in the right mood and Gale could convince him to let his hair down in the name of research for their parts. And he would be so fucking deliriously happy when he walked out to his car, thinking he had missed Gale, only to find him leaning against the driver’s side, a cigarette held loosely in his hands, a slow smirk appearing across his face as he spotted Randy, before he ducked his head, trying to pretend, as casually as he could, that he hadn’t been waiting for him all along. But one day it happened. One day Randy looked up, during a five minute break from filming, and looked across towards Gale, where he stood lounging against a wall, talking to one of the extras. There was nothing significant about the way he stood, the way he dressed. The light wasn’t spilling through into the studio, highlighting his hair, or anything movies would have him believe. There were no fanfares declaring that he was in love. He just knew. It hit him, all at once, and his skin turned from hot, to cold, and back again, in the blink of an eye. Then Gale looked up and across at him, confusion infusing his features for a moment, before he tilted his head, raised one eyebrow at Randy, and gave him a knowing smile. A smile that Randy liked to remember as telling him that Gale was glad he had fucking finally caught up to what he had known all along. Of course, it wasn’t true. Gale didn’t know, Randy thought, as he stepped into the cold of the back parking lot, pulling his sleeves down over his hands to try and keep them warm, and stamped his feet on the ground, glancing down at the swirling mist. He probably had no fucking clue how Randy felt, or that there was even a possibility that maybe, just maybe, he could feel the same. Not until it became so fucking obvious that Randy couldn’t be bothered to try and keep it a secret anymore. He was, quite frankly, fed up of pretending. He did that enough in his job; he didn’t want to do it in his personal life too. So he let Gale know, in subtle, and many not-so-subtle ways. A look in his direction that lingered a little too long. A touch that alighted a little too high on his thigh. And the very obvious erections that sprang up during Brian and Justin’s sex scenes, occurring more regularly than he could pass off as just happening because of the friction. Not that it had ever been the reason in the first place. Randy glanced up as he heard the metal door behind him, and sighed when he saw Gale slipping out into the cold, his own jacket pulled around him, holding Randy’s own underneath his arm. He should have known he would have come to find him eventually. It was what Gale did. No matter what was going on in his own life, Gale would always, without question, be there for Randy, whether he knew what was up or not, whether he felt he could offer him any answers or advice. He was just an ever-present force, forcing Randy to confront his demons even if all he wanted to do was run away. “You forgot your coat,” Gale said, and stepped over to him, holding it out. “You shouldn’t be outside in these temperatures without one.” Randy snorted and took it off him, quickly pushing his arms through the sleeves. He looked up at Gale once he had buttoned it up, and nodded. “I wasn’t really thinking about my clothes.” “No, I guess not.” Gale smiled slightly and pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes from the depths of one of his pockets, and offered it over to Randy. “It was a little too stuffy in there, anyway.” Randy smiled in response and reached out, taking a cigarette, inclining his head in a gesture of thanks. “I wasn’t sure how to react, what with Hal’s apparent ease, Peter pretending he didn’t know, and Sharon, as usual, blatantly telling us how it was. Like we don’t know.” Gale nodded and flicked his lighter, cupping his hand around his flame as Randy leant close to him, lighting the end of his cigarette. “It’s not the end of the world,” he said, when he had lit his own and took a drag, returning his lighter to one of his pockets. “Whatever happens, nobody will remember it in a few months time. Maybe a year at the outside.” Randy scoffed. “It shouldn’t have to be like that! I hate that people want to know these things, that they want a piece of us. Why can’t they just leave us be?” Gale opened his mouth to answer, but Randy shook his head. “Don’t answer that. I know. I chose this career so I have to put up with everything that comes with it. Even the parts that suck.” “Not all the parts that suck are that bad…”Gale replied, and gave him a lopsided grin. Randy laughed, wondering how on earth Gale always managed to do that, to diffuse a situation as quickly as it had arisen. Just by being himself. “You would think of that!” he said, still grinning. “Yeah well…”Gale moved a little closer, hooking one arm around Randy’s shoulders, “Someone has to think about the sex.” “Oh, I think about the sex,” Randy replied, eyeing him sideways. “In fact, for years I thought I was the only one of the two of us thinking about sex.” “That’s not true,” Gale protested, taking another drag on his cigarette, blowing the smoke up into the cold air. “I always thought about it. I was just a lot better at hiding it than you were.” He glanced down pointedly at Randy’s crotch. “I can’t help it that I happen to get excited easily,” Randy answered, grinning. “It’s all your fault anyway. I’m entirely blameless.” “You keep telling yourself that.” Gale smiled and pressed a kiss to Randy’s temple, then nudged him just under his ribs. “Come on, we have a scene in the diner to shoot.” Randy groaned, and followed him reluctantly back towards the door leading back into the studio. “Everyone is going to think I’m so weird for taking off like that.” “They already think you are weird, Rands,” Gale replied, taking a final drag on his cigarette before dropping it on the floor and grinding it out under one of his boots. “That’s the last thing you should be worried about.” The last thing indeed. Gale walked off the set of the diner at the end of his scene, leaving Randy behind to finish shooting with Sharon, Hal, Scott, and Peter. He walked around the side of studio and headed towards his trailer - one had been provided for each of the regular cast so they could escape between takes on particularly gruelling days. He shut the door behind him and let out a breath, raking one hand through his hair, before heading into the tiny bathroom to wash off the remaining traces of makeup he wore. He grabbed a towel, drying his face, and pulled off the clothes Brian wore, dumping them in a hamper that would be collected later that afternoon, the clothes taken off for washing before they would be replaced in their rightful home in the costume department. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and grabbed a bottle of water before dropping down on the small, worn couch, and closed his eyes. Despite the appearances that he put on, more to reassure Randy that what was happening wasn’t his fault than anything else, he was more than a little worried about the entire situation, to put it mildly. It wasn’t so much that he was concerned what tricks Simon could pull - he had known many people like him in his lifetime. In his opinion, Simon was little more than an angry man with a grudge, and even though a part of Gale understood why Simon was upset (after all, he would upset too if he had lost Randy to someone else. He almost had), he couldn’t quite bring himself to feel sorry for him. He had never liked Simon, not from the moment he first laid eyes on him when Randy had brought him along to a cast party. He had been introduced to him, and when Gale had stuck out his hand, trying his hardest to quench any feelings towards Randy that were bubbling under the surface, Simon looked at him as if he was only good for being ground out on the floor underneath his shoe. It had never been spoken about, but Gale knew why Simon didn’t like him; he could see it in his eyes. It was pure, unbridled jealousy. Jealousy because Gale got to see Randy naked on a regular basis. Jealousy because he got to be around him, got to touch him, to kiss him. But it wasn’t just about the physical, either. Simon was also jealous because he saw how close Gale and Randy were. They shared a plethora of jokes only they understood, and tiny little looks that carried unspoken messages across the air between them, that would cause the other to raise an eyebrow and smile in understanding. And Gale was always, without fail, the person Randy turned to when he and Simon had an argument, calling him up at all hours of the night, saying nothing, communicating everything. During those times, Gale would sit up in bed and pull out his cigarettes, lighting one, fighting to stay awake as he regaled Randy with tales of his time at college, the Italian motorcycles he had restored, the women he had seduced, until Randy finally stopped sniffing down the line and began laughing. Gale sighed and opened his eyes again, taking another sip of his water as he looked around the trailer. No, it wasn’t Simon that worried him. It was the slue of reporters who were going to file into the interview room and take their seats, flipping open their notebook, sitting there in front of him like he was an animal of display. They would watch him, unblinking, their pens poised, as they waited for his big revelation. Only, Gale wasn’t sure whether or not there was going to be any sort of revelation. Part of him wanted to admit that he was gay, that he had been gay all along, but he wasn’t really convinced that was the right answer. The point was: he wasn’t sure he was gay. He had always been interested in women, or at least he thought he was until Randy had walked into the office where he was sitting with Ron and Dan, less that forty-eight hours after he had called them up and introduced himself as Brian Kinney. Randy had somehow managed to blow all of his supposedly concrete ideas about his own sexuality out of the window, just with one look and a huge, beaming smile. And it was definitely about sex, at least at the start. Gale couldn’t try and write off what he felt towards Randy as a friendship that had become so deep he had gotten confused. Right from the start, when Randy leaned across the table and locked eyes with him, shaking his hand, Gale had wanted him. The friendship, the…whatever else he was feeling, that came later. Much later. At that point, when he slipped into the skin of Brian Kinney and took Justin into his bed, he wanted nothing more than to step back out of that buffer zone of acting, and take Randy into his own bed instead. For a while, Gale allowed himself to believe that he was confused, that somehow he had mixed up his own lust with Brian’s and directed it to the most obvious person. But he couldn’t quite let himself believe that completely. It was just an idea he had planted in his own head, because the alternative was just too weird to contemplate - that Gale Harold, who had only ever spent less than six months without a woman in his life, wanted, more than anything he could ever remember wanting before, a man... Gale looked up when there was a knock at his trailer door, pulling him out of his reverie. “Come in.” His expression brightened when the door opened and Randy peered around it. “Are you busy?” Gale shook his head and gestured with one hand. “Nah, make yourself at home.” Randy stepped into the trailer and looked around gingerly before shutting the door, and took a step towards the couch. He looked nervous, despite having been in there thousands of times before. “Come here.” Gale held one hand out towards him and Randy took it, sinking down next to him.“You finished quickly,” Gale commented. “I take it filming went well?” Randy shrugged. “I guess.” He looked at Gale and sighed. “Ron cornered me as I was leaving.” “Oh?” Gale glanced at him. “He wants to know what’s going on; what we’re going to do about Simon and the supposed-interview.” “I’ll speak to him later,” Gale replied. “I’ll tell him to arrange for the interview to go ahead. I assume he and Dan will want to be there, since it will impact the show.” “You don’t mind them being there?” Gale shrugged. “Not really.” Randy paused and then glanced up at him. “Can I watch?” “You really want to?” “Yeah. And I mean, it’s to do with me too.” “I guess so.” Randy snorted and moved a little closer. “No guessing about it. He’s my stupid ex-boyfriend.” Gale smiled. “Is it bad I like hearing you say that?” “That he’s stupid?” Randy smiled back. “No. That he’s your ex-boyfriend.” Randy’s smile turned into a fully-fledged grin. “It’s not bad.” He moved even closer, shifting to face Gale, and put a hand on his stomach. “I kind of like it.” “You do, huh?” Gale raised an eyebrow. “Yeah.” Randy leaned in and started trailing kisses across his collarbone. “It’s kind of hot.” “That I’m being slightly possessive?” Gale sucked in a shaky breath when Randy moved a little lower, his hair tickling his chest as he kissed just above his navel. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Exactly that.” Gale snorted and opened his mouth to reply, but the only sound that came out was a guttural groan as Randy moved even lower still, kissing his erection through the material of his sweatpants. “Hal said he’d drop by here after he’s finished changing,” Randy muttered, lifting the waistband of Gale’s pants and freeing his cock. “Is that so?” Gale leant his head back against the couch, watching Randy’s progress as he wrapped his hand around his base and started slowly stroking up his length. “Yeah…” Randy’s head dipped, his breath ghosting out over the tip of his cock, cooling the bead of liquid that seeped out of the tip. “Think we have enough time for this?” He stuck his tongue out, dragging it across the head of his cock, causing Gale to shudder. He paused and glanced up at him from underneath his eyelashes, one eyebrow quirking in question. “God…” Gale swallowed, his pupils dilating as he watched him. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Randy smirked and covered the head of his cock, engulfing him with his mouth, sucking right down until his nose brushed against his curls. Gale let out a long breath through his nose, one hand rising to run through the hair at the base of Randy’s neck, before grabbing a handful, pushing him down further. Randy smiled around him, pressing his tongue against the throbbing vein on the underside, and closed his eyes, concentrating at the task in hand. Gale was lost on a current of sensation as he watched on as Randy put his mouth to good use, alternating his actions between a hard, long suck and a light, almost feathering series of licks, sweeping around his base and up, over the head, lapping at him like he couldn’t get enough. Gale moaned, throwing his head back further as Randy reached down, pushing his legs apart, and cupped his balls, rolling them in the palm of his hand. He darted down, taking him completely into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing out, and Gale arched up, his back leaving the couch, holding on for as long as possible before he let go, thundering through the pulses of his orgasm as he emptied himself down Randy’s throat. Moments passed, Gale’s breathing as he tried to get himself under control the only sound in the trailer, and he forced his fingers to loosen in Randy’s hair, allowing him to move from his crouched position. He sat up, a self-satisfied expression on his face, and leant against Gale, looking at him for a second before darting forward and kissing him, pushing his tongue into his mouth so he could taste himself. He pulled Gale’s sweatpants back up just in time as a swift knock rained down against the door, and Hal shoved it open, walking inside without waiting for a response. |