Title: Finale
Author: phobosgirl (phobosgirl@hotmail.com)
Date: 7/4/05
Rating: PG-13
Authors notes: Un-beta’d. Feedback is more than welcome and can be sent to phobosgirl@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: This is only for fun. None of this is real nor should any implication be made based on this manuscript that I have any insider info on either of these two incredibly deliciously fine men.
Warnings: Gale/Randy RPS
Complete: maybe, maybe not

Finale

"Fuck it, I'm sayin' it."

He didn't sound like a man about to impart vital information. Stupid me, I need to listen better.

"There hasn't been a day, from the one we met 'till today, that I haven't been in love with you to one degree or another."

His voice was causal, conversational, and slightly accusatory and I don't think he could have strung together 31 other words in the English language that would have shocked me more.

"Is this a joke?" I knew already that it wasn't, but seriously, what the fuck was I supposed to say when my brain was suddenly a plate of scrambled eggs in my head?

We'd been standing at the sinks in the men's room, washing our hands, when he said it. Just an ordinary activity, a coincidental meeting, one we'd played out thousands of times over the years. Nothing special about it. Fucking-A, my girlfriend was somewhere in the next room, probably dancing with Bobby or Peter right this second!

We were supposed to be saying goodbye tonight, not making declarations of long lost love. I'm just an actor, I'm not cut out for this shit.

I suddenly felt very tired.

"Yeah," his eyes never met mine in the mirrors over the sinks. He still sounded weirdly bored. "It's a joke, Gale. April Fools- early."

He moved away and grabbed a fistful of paper towels, studiously drying his hands. He refused to meet my gaze.

"I'm sorry, Ran." I could feel a blush creeping up in my cheeks. "I know you're not kidding. I mean, I figured."

I turned off the water, noticing that he didn't step aside when I joined him at the towel dispenser.

"But yanno," I complained, "what the fuck?"

"Yeah, my sentiments, exactly." How the fuck could he be so calm?

"Look," he wadded up the used paper and stuffed it into the trash can, his sharp eyes finally landing on my face. "I don't expect you to do anything about this. It's not like I think you're gonna break down and confess… whatever… to me. I know you're straight-identified, I know you go for pussy, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah. I just wanted to tell you while I had the chance."

He turned, and before I could blink three times he was almost to the door.

"Ran!" I had no idea what I was going to say and when he looked back at me, and my mouth fell open, the skeptical look on his face nearly convinced me to just let him leave.

Too many silent beats went by and he shrugged, turning again for the door.

My anger flared suddenly.

"What, so you tell me this now, when it's too fucking late for me to do anything about it?" My voice bounced off the tile walls, making me wince. I wasn't even sure where my ire had come from.

His laugh was cynical, but that wasn't really anything new for Randy. At almost 28, he was one of the darkest people I'd ever met.

"What the hell would you have done?" he barked.

And then, before the smirk left his face, I was on him, my fingers gripping the back of his head, my mouth covering any protest his might attempt. He responded, it seemed, almost against his will. His hands pushed up against my stomach, traveled to my chest.

I know him well. I knew he was about to shove me away. I released him instead, took two strides back, and watched him stumble forward a step. His eyes opened like he was coming out of a dream.

"I dunno, asshole," I couldn't seem to shake my anger. "Probably that. But we'll never know now, will we?"

I heard his sharp intake of breath as I brushed past him and left the rest room.

Possibly to be continued later, if the muse allows...