Entourage FF: If the bright lights don't receive you [Eric/Vince; NC-17; AU]
Context having version of a ficlet from 
oxoniensis's Porn Battle VIII
Title: If the bright lights don't receive you
Fandom: Entourage
Pairing: Eric/Vince
Rating: NC-17
Length: 3,800 words
Disclaimer: All belongs to Doug Ellin and HBO.
Spoilers: AU from pre-series (with loose hand-wavy canon) but spoilers at least through 2.09, I Love You Too
Summary: The incident with Mandy didn't just shut down production, it got Vince fired, and puts a temporary halt on his career. He goes to crash with E for a little while. Prompt was AU, originally here.
AN: Title from Matchbox Twenty's 'Bright Lights'.
Vince leaves New York in a balmy April and it’s more than a year later before he knocks on Eric’s door again. A wet September, and Vince’s shoulders are pulled up and forward in the apology he’s never meant. He says, “Can I crash here a while?” and “There was this girl.”
Eric nods, and laughs, because it’s never really about the girl as much as the shit that descends when Vince decides he wants a challenge, and gets some girl he shouldn’t have. But ‘a while’ turns into a month and change, and Vince is still moping on the couch watching daytime TV. Eric starts to wonder.
The heat craps out mid-October, when Eric is trying to balance community college, and the job at Sbarro’s, and Vince sleeping on his couch all day. He doesn’t have the time to go yell at the super about the pipes, at least not before work, not this week.
By the end of the week, Eric’s pretty sure he can see his breath in the air, the place is so cold. He gets in from class and Vince is curled up on the couch with the blankets pulled tight around him.
Eric pokes his hand, meaning, ‘lazy jackass, go find a job’. But Vince’s fingers are freezing-cold, so what comes out is, “Jesus, Vince.”
“I called Drama,” Vince says, which doesn’t seem related to anything in particular.
“Yeah? Look, I’ll go talk to the super tomorrow. Go sleep in my bed for a while if you’re gonna sleep. You stay here and I’m gonna be picking your fingers out of the carpet in the morning. Frostbite,” he explains, off Vince’s look.
“You sure?” Vince asks.
“I’m working the late shift, I don’t need it til I get back.”
Vince mumbles a thank you, and trails off to the bedroom.
When Eric gets in, tired and half-frozen himself now, Vince is still in the bed. Eric touches the skin he can see - Vince’s hand warm by his head.
Vince says, “Mandy.”
Eric says, “Get out of the bed, Vince. Or start paying rent.”
“E,” Vince says, “no. No, that’s her name. The girl. Mandy.” But he has already crawled unhappily out of the bed, and back towards the couch. He leaves a warm space behind, which Eric climbs into and shivers.
The next morning, Eric kicks the pipes, and yells at the landlord that, “Vinnie’s gonna fucking die of frostbite, and that’s not gonna look real good in the papers, is it?”
Vince says, “Wow. Were you always this scary?” and starts circling auditions in the trade papers that Eric’s been leaving around.
*
It breaks again in November. When Eric gets home, Vince is already in the bed. He has scrawled, ‘Audition tomorrow!!!’ on the board above the fridge, which may or may not be a warning. Eric figures he can deal with the couch for one night.
He regrets the decision more or less immediately. There is a draft and a creaking window, and when he wakes up his back is in spasm.
Work that day sucks, and class sucks more, and he gets back that night all ready to be pissed off at Vince for putting him there.
But Vince is in the kitchen, in too-large sweats and red socks, and the first thing he says is, “E. You should have just shoved me out of the bed - you had to work today!”
So Eric just shrugs and asks, “How’d the audition go?”
“She asked if she’d seen me in a Mentos commercial.”
Eric bumps Vince’s shoulder on the way to the fridge. “I’m sorry, man.”
“Yeah, me too. I guess call-backs aren’t ‘til Friday. You never know, right?”
“Right. You just gotta get yourself out there, okay?”
Vince nods, and slides Eric a plate. “I made grilled cheese sandwiches.”
Eric had been about to pull the fridge open and try to concoct something from their leftovers. This is better.
That night, he drags Vince with him to the bedroom. “You’re a foot taller than me, that couch is gonna kill you,” he says. “We can share.”
They lie back-to-back, with the top of Eric’s head fitted against the curve of Vince’s neck and spine.
Vince says, “I shut down a movie set. They had to… I don’t think I’ve actually been fired before. Not from something that mattered.”
Eric leans back a little more, bending his toes against Vince’s ankles. He reaches behind himself for Vince’s wrist, and gets his hand around it. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“You know that for sure?”
“I know that for sure.”
*
Vince auditions often enough that for a while there it’s almost like he’s got a real job. But his heart’s still in film sets in LA and the callbacks don’t come. Eric has to stop hassling the super about the heat, because his rent was late this month and he doesn’t want the attention. He crawls into bed with Vince, ready to turn over and sleep.
Vince catches his arm. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Eric says, and slides nearer to pull the blankets closed. If this is gonna be a long talk, he might as well be warm.
Vince- Vince misreads, and lays his hands on Eric’s back. Or he doesn’t misread and lays his hands on Eric’s back. Either way, they’re tighter wound together now than they’ve been since they were kids.
Vince whispers it: “You think I should get a job?”
“I thought that was why you’ve been auditioning.”
“Not like that. Like, a grown-up job. A real one, that pays and doesn’t need six callbacks before they tell me no.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.” His shoulders lift, so his hands slide up Eric’s skin. He says, “Store, maybe? This guy offered me a modelling gig a few weeks ago. Or, you know, there’s always porn.”
Vince laughs and there’s a screaming edge in it. Eric bundles his hands in the front of Vince’s t-shirt. He leans in so he brushes his lips on Vince’s shoulder through the fabric. Vince is too skinny under the clothes; Eric can feel the jut of his bones. “You wanna do porn?”
“I’m just saying-“
“If I thought you wanted one of those jobs, Vin, I’d be right there with you. Or not there, but you know what I mean. Whatever you want. But you don’t, so let’s stop talking about it.”
“There were bills in the mail today. Bright red letters.”
“If I need to get a loan to cover us a little while, I’ll do that. My credit’s pretty good.”
“Your credit’s pretty good because you’ve never had to get a loan to cover you a little while.”
Eric smoothes Vince’s t-shirt down again and says, “You need to start eating right.”
“E…”
“It’ll be okay.” There’s still another inch closer they can be, to keep the cold away. Vince’s hands meet around Eric’s back and that’s how they fall asleep.
*
Two Saturdays before Christmas, Vince asks Eric, "You doing anything this afternoon?"
"Vince, I'm not coming Christmas shopping for your mom, if that's what you mean."
"No. No, I have an audition. Would be a few weeks, off-Broadway."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Do you wanna, maybe, come along?"
"To your audition? I'm really not much of an actor, you know that, right?"
"Yeah, it's just... other guys, sometimes, you know they have managers or agents come along with them."
"I'm neither a manager nor an agent, Vin."
"You're doing a course. That's management, right?"
"Yeah, business management. Like Sbarro’s. Not people management."
Vince opens his hands flat on the table and looks at the wall. Eric can’t read the gesture. He taps the paper on the table and looks at the pile of class work he’s supposed to be doing on his one Saturday off. He looks at Vince again.
Eric says, “Sure, sounds like fun.”
Vince is right, anyway, that a lot of the actors turn up with someone in tow. Eric ignores them, and goes to chat with one of the junior casting agents, who’s not sitting in on Vince’s session anyway. He’s pretty sure she’s actually just a gofer with a title, but she’s sweet, and when he points Vince out she gets sweeter. She introduces him to another girl, who knows a guy, and by the time Vince gets out, Eric seems to have half a Rolodex of numbers.
Vince smiles at him. “I think that went well.”
*
So Vince has work through January and in February Eric says, “Hear me out.”
“Okay?” Vince says, looking up from an audition script.
“Let me get to the end, so I can tell you why I think this is good, okay?”
Vince nods, grinning at Eric being nervous.
“I know you don’t wanna do TV. I get that. But a lot of people are doing it, okay? Film guys too. And film guys are watching it, which is more... Remember Lisa? She knows a guy who knows at guy at ‘The Sopranos’, who saw you in Telescope. And I said you were looking for a run on something, if we could find you a challenge. So there’s an audition, if you want it. Straight through to last round - just need to impress the director. Six episodes with an option, but even if you hate it, that’s national exposure, Vin. Think about it?”
Vince just sits there looking at him for a moment. He puts the script down on the coffee table and beckons Eric over. Vince grabs Eric’s shirt and pulls him down on top of Vince on the creaking couch. “You,” Vince says, “are a fucking miracle.”
Worker, Eric thinks. Miracle-worker, is what you mean, and not really. But Vince’s hands are scrabbling at Eric’s shoulder, and his mouth finds Eric’s.
It’s a movie-script kiss: the one where the two of them finally get it, understand what’s been going on this whole time and make the fucking move at last.
Eric pulls away, looking for air and clarity - no luck there, with Vince smiling at him like that. Vince has a great smile. This is news to precisely no one, but Eric is still blown away by it. It’s maybe because he hasn’t seen it in a while - the way it warms Vince’s whole face, from the blue of his eyes outwards.
Vince gets them turned around on the couch so Eric’s head is up against the arm of the chair. Vince is hard against his thigh, and Eric could get off like this - on Vince’s happiness and the press of his hips. But Vince backs off down the couch, bringing Eric’s jeans with him.
Eric’s hands end up on Vince’s shoulders, feeling the shift under the skin. Vince is taking better care of himself now that he’s working again, and Eric’s hand slides along the firm muscle of his upper arms, down to his fingers.
Vince is a tease - has always been - and he takes Eric into his mouth so goddamn slowly that Eric’s grip on his hand must hurt. Vince pulls off, takes one gasp of air, and deep-throats him.
Eric hasn’t had sex since about two months before Vince moved in. He thinks that Vince probably has, when he wasn’t staying in all day, but Eric likes to bring a girl home, and he wouldn’t do that with Vince on the couch. It would have been awkward, is what he told himself then. He would have needed to explain why his failing-actor childhood friend couldn’t go find his own place. He would have needed to explain him and Vince, and he’s never done that to anyone’s satisfaction, least of all his own.
Vince shifts one hand to rub at the skin behind Eric’s balls, further back where he is still tight even now. Eric is close - so fucking close - but not there.
Vince’s hand trails up Eric’s chest and settles there. His fingers follow a path Eric can’t figure out, though the motion is familiar like a forgotten dream. He looks down - half-cross-eyed - to see Vince’s blunt fingernail tracking over the black ink of his tattoo.
Eric tightens his grip on Vince’s shoulder in warning. Vince presses the nail a little harder, and only pulls back far enough that he won’t choke.
He rubs his mouth with the back of his hand, after, and licks it.
Eric says, “You’ve done that before.”
“Given a blow-job? Yeah.”
“No, the…” Eric’s hand lands on his own chest without him thinking about it.
Vince moves up the couch so he’s halfway over Eric’s body. He kisses the letters one by one. That part’s new, but Eric knows he’s not imagining the deja-vu of Vince’s fingers on the inked lines. Eric pulls Vince the rest of the way up, so they’re facing each other, and the memory clicks. Most of the way asleep, and Vince’s lips against the top of his head and his fingers tracking the marks.
“Bed?” Eric murmurs.
“Bed,” Vince agrees.
*
TV moves quicker than movies, but still not quick enough for Vince. Fucking doesn’t seem to stop them fighting, and it’s actually gotten worse since that flash of quicksilver hope. That morning, Vince had said, “You’re the one who wanted me to do fucking television,” and Eric had retorted, “It’s not my fault you screwed up your dream life over some girl.”
He doesn’t think he’s ever been this tired. Eric opens the door quietly, expecting Vince to already be asleep, or pretending to be. But Vince is sitting on the couch with a guy Eric vaguely recognises, and he turns to look at Eric with one of those smiles. “And this is Eric,” he says.
Eric waves, feeling stupid and caught out. “Hey.”
“This is Daniel,” Vince says. “He worked on the second episode I did, remember? The scene in the porn video place.”
“I remember. Hi.”
“So anyway,” Vince says, “Danny got offered this part in a film. Not huge pay, but cool script.”
“Congratulations.”
“Except the producer kind of creeps us both out, and he needs a hand checking over the contract. I told him my guy was pretty good at that. You think you could maybe take a look?”
Eric is exhausted, and he has two shifts tomorrow, with a class in the middle. But Vince is looking at him like he trusts Eric to say yes. Like maybe he has clue what to look for in a movie contract. So Eric nods, and sits on the table to have a look at the paperwork. “Sure,” he says, “of course.”
When they finish, two a.m. and counting, Daniel hugs him and Eric realises that the kid must be nineteen. Eric pats his arm and tells him, “Come and see me if you need anything else. Or else find someone who can check these things out for you. It’s way too easy to get screwed over - you’ve gotta be careful.”
Daniel nods, and thanks him again, and leaves.
Eric crawls into bed and waits for Vince. They’re too tired, or he is, to do anything but lie there. Vince climbs in behind him, so he’s talking to Eric’s back. He says, “Mandy-”
“Still Eric,” he says, but at least it’s a joke now.
“Ha ha. No. Mandy. I asked her to marry me.”
”When?”
“On the set, when do you think? Before all hell broke loose and I ended up out of a job and with a reputation for stalking.”
“And she said no?”
“Of course she said no, you think I’d…” Vince trails off but Eric hears the rest. Be here if she said yes.
“Yeah,” Eric says.
“It wasn’t like- It wasn’t like this. It was just the first time anything came close to-” Vince’s voice gets quieter the farther along the sentence he gets, “… so I thought that was it. And I am, I mean, I can be-”
“What?”
“Serious. This is serious to me.”
“It’s serious to me too.”
“Everything’s serious to you. It always has been.”
Eric sighs and pulls Vince’s hands together under his own. “This is the real deal, then. Serious always.”
“I wasn’t trying to get you to say it back,” Vince says, and kisses Eric’s neck anyway. “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”
*
Things speed up then. Eric graduates from his course, with Vince whooping in the audience. Vince’s stint on The Sopranos earns him a spot on Entertainment Weekly’s ‘Top 10 to Watch Out For’ list. There’s not enough room in the text-box for them to mention Mandy and the filming shutdown. Eric begins to get the impression that his mom might know that he and Vince sleep in the same bed. Vince gets the lead in a mini-series, set right there in Queens. These reviews have the room for Vince’s LA meltdown, but they’re hyping his meteoric rise too much to be distracted by ancient history.
They go to see a movie called ‘Head On’. Jessica Alba’s pretty good in it, but the male lead is terrible. Vince spends most of the movie laughing in the wrong places, and trailing his finger up the seam of Eric’s jeans.
But Eric’s always going to remember that movie, because on the way back, Vince’s phone rang. Vince peered at it and said, “Shit.”
“What?”
“It’s Ari Gold.”
Eric doesn’t think Vince’s agent has called him since around the time Vince did his first off-Broadway play since coming back. Eric’s never actually spoken to the guy, but that didn’t impress him. The way Vince is looking though, and the noise coming down that line, Eric’s going to have to ask the questions.
There’s a role. Vince already has work lined up - a film, even, though it’s not far off someone’s graduation piece. It’s a good script, but a shitty budget. Whatever Ari Gold is offering is better.
Vince lies beside him in Eric’s tiny bed and says, “What do you think?”
“It’s what you think that matters, Vin.”
“That’s not what I…”
“I think you should do what you want.”
“E.”
“And if what you want is to go back to LA, then that’s what you should do.”
“I don’t-”
“And if you want me to come with you then I’m going to need you to ask the fucking question, all right?”
Vince laughs and pulls Eric very close. The heating is still gone, but it’s March now, and sunny. Vince tastes of chocolate frosting straight from the tub, eaten after he decided that pot might help the decision-making process. Vince says, “Come with me. I’m gonna make so many mistakes, and you need to fix them for me.”
“Well,” Eric says, “with an offer like that, how could I say no?”
*
They go thirteen days in LA without sex, what with dealing with Ari, and with Drama and Turtle, and getting Vince to and from so many meetings that it makes Eric’s head spin. It hadn’t mattered so much that Vince couldn’t drive in New York, but this is ridiculous.
He’s lying on his (huge) bed in the house Vince’s advance paid for. Vince walks into the room and drops beside him. He turns his face into Eric’s side and breathes.
“You can’t possibly be cold,” Eric says.
The vibration of Vince’s soft laughter makes Eric squirm. “No,” Vince says. “Maybe I just wanna sleep.”
“It’s three in the afternoon.”
“Then I’ve gotta ask: what are you doing in bed?”
“I’m lying on the bed, jackass, and before you got here I was reading scripts.”
“I’m too hot,” Vince whines.
“Go for a swim. You’re not gonna get any cooler lying here.”
Vince pretends to consider that for a moment. His hand strays down to the hem of his t-shirt, and he pulls at it, baring his stomach.
“That’s not gonna get you cooler either.”
“How about,” Vince suggests, “we do the hot and sticky part, and then we both go to the pool and cool off?”
“Now you’re interested?”
Vince raises himself up on his arm to look at Eric. “When did I stop?”
“You haven’t exactly been eager, now that Drama’s been throwing all of these fame whores at you.”
“So he’s been pushing. Doesn’t mean I’ve been taking up the offer. Offers. I’ve got you.” Vince blinks at him. “Right?”
Eric leans up into Vince for the kiss, all misplaced angles and poor balance. Vince falls against him and laughs again, and darts his tongue against Eric’s barely parted lips.
LA warmth, and they’re both in t-shirts and shorts; Eric can feel the outline of Vince’s cock hard through the fabric.
They don’t fuck side-by-side very often - there’s less room for movement and, back in New York, a really high chance of falling off the bed. But it lets them be slow; the roll of Vince’s hips sliding him in and out like he could do this all day. Like he just might, with the sun warming their bed, and the script dropped on the floor.
They don’t, of course, though it’s late in the evening by the time they’re showered and dressed to meet Ari.
Ari looks at Vince and says, “So you’re gay now? How the hell did you not think to mention this before?”
“I’m with Eric now,” Vince corrects, “and I wasn’t before.”
Eric doesn’t hate Ari Gold nearly as much as he was expecting too. And he thinks that maybe there might have been a few more phone calls Vince never told him about, because Ari didn’t seem so surprised when Vince brought Eric with him to that first meeting.
Ari had just looked Eric up and down like he had been expecting some high school buddy in sweatpants, looking for a handout. Eric had been in his (then) one good suit, and shook Ari’s hand, keeping eye contact. Eric had blinked first, but it had been a close-run thing.
Ari looks at him now, and Eric doesn’t look away. He’s been Vince’s manager, however unofficially, for way longer than Ari’s been his agent.
“So you’re staying, then,” Ari says.
“Looks like,” Eric says. “I like the weather here.”
Vince laughs, and leans down to whisper in Eric’s ear, “Pool sex. Beach sex, what do you think?”
Eric mostly thinks sand, but Vince has a way of talking him into stupid ideas. He turns to Ari and says, “So we’re midway through filming. Tell me you’re ready to get the next one booked? I don’t wanna be waiting around for box office numbers in June.”
Ari says, “Where in the motherfucking world did you find this one, Vinnie?” Eric coughs, and Ari looks back and properly focuses on Eric to reply. Eric listens and nods, and all the while he feels Vince’s steady gaze warming the side of his face, like a reminder of everything they’re going to be here together.
FIN
oxoniensis's Porn Battle VIII
Title: If the bright lights don't receive you
Fandom: Entourage
Pairing: Eric/Vince
Rating: NC-17
Length: 3,800 words
Disclaimer: All belongs to Doug Ellin and HBO.
Spoilers: AU from pre-series (with loose hand-wavy canon) but spoilers at least through 2.09, I Love You Too
Summary: The incident with Mandy didn't just shut down production, it got Vince fired, and puts a temporary halt on his career. He goes to crash with E for a little while. Prompt was AU, originally here.
AN: Title from Matchbox Twenty's 'Bright Lights'.
Vince leaves New York in a balmy April and it’s more than a year later before he knocks on Eric’s door again. A wet September, and Vince’s shoulders are pulled up and forward in the apology he’s never meant. He says, “Can I crash here a while?” and “There was this girl.”
Eric nods, and laughs, because it’s never really about the girl as much as the shit that descends when Vince decides he wants a challenge, and gets some girl he shouldn’t have. But ‘a while’ turns into a month and change, and Vince is still moping on the couch watching daytime TV. Eric starts to wonder.
The heat craps out mid-October, when Eric is trying to balance community college, and the job at Sbarro’s, and Vince sleeping on his couch all day. He doesn’t have the time to go yell at the super about the pipes, at least not before work, not this week.
By the end of the week, Eric’s pretty sure he can see his breath in the air, the place is so cold. He gets in from class and Vince is curled up on the couch with the blankets pulled tight around him.
Eric pokes his hand, meaning, ‘lazy jackass, go find a job’. But Vince’s fingers are freezing-cold, so what comes out is, “Jesus, Vince.”
“I called Drama,” Vince says, which doesn’t seem related to anything in particular.
“Yeah? Look, I’ll go talk to the super tomorrow. Go sleep in my bed for a while if you’re gonna sleep. You stay here and I’m gonna be picking your fingers out of the carpet in the morning. Frostbite,” he explains, off Vince’s look.
“You sure?” Vince asks.
“I’m working the late shift, I don’t need it til I get back.”
Vince mumbles a thank you, and trails off to the bedroom.
When Eric gets in, tired and half-frozen himself now, Vince is still in the bed. Eric touches the skin he can see - Vince’s hand warm by his head.
Vince says, “Mandy.”
Eric says, “Get out of the bed, Vince. Or start paying rent.”
“E,” Vince says, “no. No, that’s her name. The girl. Mandy.” But he has already crawled unhappily out of the bed, and back towards the couch. He leaves a warm space behind, which Eric climbs into and shivers.
The next morning, Eric kicks the pipes, and yells at the landlord that, “Vinnie’s gonna fucking die of frostbite, and that’s not gonna look real good in the papers, is it?”
Vince says, “Wow. Were you always this scary?” and starts circling auditions in the trade papers that Eric’s been leaving around.
*
It breaks again in November. When Eric gets home, Vince is already in the bed. He has scrawled, ‘Audition tomorrow!!!’ on the board above the fridge, which may or may not be a warning. Eric figures he can deal with the couch for one night.
He regrets the decision more or less immediately. There is a draft and a creaking window, and when he wakes up his back is in spasm.
Work that day sucks, and class sucks more, and he gets back that night all ready to be pissed off at Vince for putting him there.
But Vince is in the kitchen, in too-large sweats and red socks, and the first thing he says is, “E. You should have just shoved me out of the bed - you had to work today!”
So Eric just shrugs and asks, “How’d the audition go?”
“She asked if she’d seen me in a Mentos commercial.”
Eric bumps Vince’s shoulder on the way to the fridge. “I’m sorry, man.”
“Yeah, me too. I guess call-backs aren’t ‘til Friday. You never know, right?”
“Right. You just gotta get yourself out there, okay?”
Vince nods, and slides Eric a plate. “I made grilled cheese sandwiches.”
Eric had been about to pull the fridge open and try to concoct something from their leftovers. This is better.
That night, he drags Vince with him to the bedroom. “You’re a foot taller than me, that couch is gonna kill you,” he says. “We can share.”
They lie back-to-back, with the top of Eric’s head fitted against the curve of Vince’s neck and spine.
Vince says, “I shut down a movie set. They had to… I don’t think I’ve actually been fired before. Not from something that mattered.”
Eric leans back a little more, bending his toes against Vince’s ankles. He reaches behind himself for Vince’s wrist, and gets his hand around it. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“You know that for sure?”
“I know that for sure.”
*
Vince auditions often enough that for a while there it’s almost like he’s got a real job. But his heart’s still in film sets in LA and the callbacks don’t come. Eric has to stop hassling the super about the heat, because his rent was late this month and he doesn’t want the attention. He crawls into bed with Vince, ready to turn over and sleep.
Vince catches his arm. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Eric says, and slides nearer to pull the blankets closed. If this is gonna be a long talk, he might as well be warm.
Vince- Vince misreads, and lays his hands on Eric’s back. Or he doesn’t misread and lays his hands on Eric’s back. Either way, they’re tighter wound together now than they’ve been since they were kids.
Vince whispers it: “You think I should get a job?”
“I thought that was why you’ve been auditioning.”
“Not like that. Like, a grown-up job. A real one, that pays and doesn’t need six callbacks before they tell me no.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.” His shoulders lift, so his hands slide up Eric’s skin. He says, “Store, maybe? This guy offered me a modelling gig a few weeks ago. Or, you know, there’s always porn.”
Vince laughs and there’s a screaming edge in it. Eric bundles his hands in the front of Vince’s t-shirt. He leans in so he brushes his lips on Vince’s shoulder through the fabric. Vince is too skinny under the clothes; Eric can feel the jut of his bones. “You wanna do porn?”
“I’m just saying-“
“If I thought you wanted one of those jobs, Vin, I’d be right there with you. Or not there, but you know what I mean. Whatever you want. But you don’t, so let’s stop talking about it.”
“There were bills in the mail today. Bright red letters.”
“If I need to get a loan to cover us a little while, I’ll do that. My credit’s pretty good.”
“Your credit’s pretty good because you’ve never had to get a loan to cover you a little while.”
Eric smoothes Vince’s t-shirt down again and says, “You need to start eating right.”
“E…”
“It’ll be okay.” There’s still another inch closer they can be, to keep the cold away. Vince’s hands meet around Eric’s back and that’s how they fall asleep.
*
Two Saturdays before Christmas, Vince asks Eric, "You doing anything this afternoon?"
"Vince, I'm not coming Christmas shopping for your mom, if that's what you mean."
"No. No, I have an audition. Would be a few weeks, off-Broadway."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Do you wanna, maybe, come along?"
"To your audition? I'm really not much of an actor, you know that, right?"
"Yeah, it's just... other guys, sometimes, you know they have managers or agents come along with them."
"I'm neither a manager nor an agent, Vin."
"You're doing a course. That's management, right?"
"Yeah, business management. Like Sbarro’s. Not people management."
Vince opens his hands flat on the table and looks at the wall. Eric can’t read the gesture. He taps the paper on the table and looks at the pile of class work he’s supposed to be doing on his one Saturday off. He looks at Vince again.
Eric says, “Sure, sounds like fun.”
Vince is right, anyway, that a lot of the actors turn up with someone in tow. Eric ignores them, and goes to chat with one of the junior casting agents, who’s not sitting in on Vince’s session anyway. He’s pretty sure she’s actually just a gofer with a title, but she’s sweet, and when he points Vince out she gets sweeter. She introduces him to another girl, who knows a guy, and by the time Vince gets out, Eric seems to have half a Rolodex of numbers.
Vince smiles at him. “I think that went well.”
*
So Vince has work through January and in February Eric says, “Hear me out.”
“Okay?” Vince says, looking up from an audition script.
“Let me get to the end, so I can tell you why I think this is good, okay?”
Vince nods, grinning at Eric being nervous.
“I know you don’t wanna do TV. I get that. But a lot of people are doing it, okay? Film guys too. And film guys are watching it, which is more... Remember Lisa? She knows a guy who knows at guy at ‘The Sopranos’, who saw you in Telescope. And I said you were looking for a run on something, if we could find you a challenge. So there’s an audition, if you want it. Straight through to last round - just need to impress the director. Six episodes with an option, but even if you hate it, that’s national exposure, Vin. Think about it?”
Vince just sits there looking at him for a moment. He puts the script down on the coffee table and beckons Eric over. Vince grabs Eric’s shirt and pulls him down on top of Vince on the creaking couch. “You,” Vince says, “are a fucking miracle.”
Worker, Eric thinks. Miracle-worker, is what you mean, and not really. But Vince’s hands are scrabbling at Eric’s shoulder, and his mouth finds Eric’s.
It’s a movie-script kiss: the one where the two of them finally get it, understand what’s been going on this whole time and make the fucking move at last.
Eric pulls away, looking for air and clarity - no luck there, with Vince smiling at him like that. Vince has a great smile. This is news to precisely no one, but Eric is still blown away by it. It’s maybe because he hasn’t seen it in a while - the way it warms Vince’s whole face, from the blue of his eyes outwards.
Vince gets them turned around on the couch so Eric’s head is up against the arm of the chair. Vince is hard against his thigh, and Eric could get off like this - on Vince’s happiness and the press of his hips. But Vince backs off down the couch, bringing Eric’s jeans with him.
Eric’s hands end up on Vince’s shoulders, feeling the shift under the skin. Vince is taking better care of himself now that he’s working again, and Eric’s hand slides along the firm muscle of his upper arms, down to his fingers.
Vince is a tease - has always been - and he takes Eric into his mouth so goddamn slowly that Eric’s grip on his hand must hurt. Vince pulls off, takes one gasp of air, and deep-throats him.
Eric hasn’t had sex since about two months before Vince moved in. He thinks that Vince probably has, when he wasn’t staying in all day, but Eric likes to bring a girl home, and he wouldn’t do that with Vince on the couch. It would have been awkward, is what he told himself then. He would have needed to explain why his failing-actor childhood friend couldn’t go find his own place. He would have needed to explain him and Vince, and he’s never done that to anyone’s satisfaction, least of all his own.
Vince shifts one hand to rub at the skin behind Eric’s balls, further back where he is still tight even now. Eric is close - so fucking close - but not there.
Vince’s hand trails up Eric’s chest and settles there. His fingers follow a path Eric can’t figure out, though the motion is familiar like a forgotten dream. He looks down - half-cross-eyed - to see Vince’s blunt fingernail tracking over the black ink of his tattoo.
Eric tightens his grip on Vince’s shoulder in warning. Vince presses the nail a little harder, and only pulls back far enough that he won’t choke.
He rubs his mouth with the back of his hand, after, and licks it.
Eric says, “You’ve done that before.”
“Given a blow-job? Yeah.”
“No, the…” Eric’s hand lands on his own chest without him thinking about it.
Vince moves up the couch so he’s halfway over Eric’s body. He kisses the letters one by one. That part’s new, but Eric knows he’s not imagining the deja-vu of Vince’s fingers on the inked lines. Eric pulls Vince the rest of the way up, so they’re facing each other, and the memory clicks. Most of the way asleep, and Vince’s lips against the top of his head and his fingers tracking the marks.
“Bed?” Eric murmurs.
“Bed,” Vince agrees.
*
TV moves quicker than movies, but still not quick enough for Vince. Fucking doesn’t seem to stop them fighting, and it’s actually gotten worse since that flash of quicksilver hope. That morning, Vince had said, “You’re the one who wanted me to do fucking television,” and Eric had retorted, “It’s not my fault you screwed up your dream life over some girl.”
He doesn’t think he’s ever been this tired. Eric opens the door quietly, expecting Vince to already be asleep, or pretending to be. But Vince is sitting on the couch with a guy Eric vaguely recognises, and he turns to look at Eric with one of those smiles. “And this is Eric,” he says.
Eric waves, feeling stupid and caught out. “Hey.”
“This is Daniel,” Vince says. “He worked on the second episode I did, remember? The scene in the porn video place.”
“I remember. Hi.”
“So anyway,” Vince says, “Danny got offered this part in a film. Not huge pay, but cool script.”
“Congratulations.”
“Except the producer kind of creeps us both out, and he needs a hand checking over the contract. I told him my guy was pretty good at that. You think you could maybe take a look?”
Eric is exhausted, and he has two shifts tomorrow, with a class in the middle. But Vince is looking at him like he trusts Eric to say yes. Like maybe he has clue what to look for in a movie contract. So Eric nods, and sits on the table to have a look at the paperwork. “Sure,” he says, “of course.”
When they finish, two a.m. and counting, Daniel hugs him and Eric realises that the kid must be nineteen. Eric pats his arm and tells him, “Come and see me if you need anything else. Or else find someone who can check these things out for you. It’s way too easy to get screwed over - you’ve gotta be careful.”
Daniel nods, and thanks him again, and leaves.
Eric crawls into bed and waits for Vince. They’re too tired, or he is, to do anything but lie there. Vince climbs in behind him, so he’s talking to Eric’s back. He says, “Mandy-”
“Still Eric,” he says, but at least it’s a joke now.
“Ha ha. No. Mandy. I asked her to marry me.”
”When?”
“On the set, when do you think? Before all hell broke loose and I ended up out of a job and with a reputation for stalking.”
“And she said no?”
“Of course she said no, you think I’d…” Vince trails off but Eric hears the rest. Be here if she said yes.
“Yeah,” Eric says.
“It wasn’t like- It wasn’t like this. It was just the first time anything came close to-” Vince’s voice gets quieter the farther along the sentence he gets, “… so I thought that was it. And I am, I mean, I can be-”
“What?”
“Serious. This is serious to me.”
“It’s serious to me too.”
“Everything’s serious to you. It always has been.”
Eric sighs and pulls Vince’s hands together under his own. “This is the real deal, then. Serious always.”
“I wasn’t trying to get you to say it back,” Vince says, and kisses Eric’s neck anyway. “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”
*
Things speed up then. Eric graduates from his course, with Vince whooping in the audience. Vince’s stint on The Sopranos earns him a spot on Entertainment Weekly’s ‘Top 10 to Watch Out For’ list. There’s not enough room in the text-box for them to mention Mandy and the filming shutdown. Eric begins to get the impression that his mom might know that he and Vince sleep in the same bed. Vince gets the lead in a mini-series, set right there in Queens. These reviews have the room for Vince’s LA meltdown, but they’re hyping his meteoric rise too much to be distracted by ancient history.
They go to see a movie called ‘Head On’. Jessica Alba’s pretty good in it, but the male lead is terrible. Vince spends most of the movie laughing in the wrong places, and trailing his finger up the seam of Eric’s jeans.
But Eric’s always going to remember that movie, because on the way back, Vince’s phone rang. Vince peered at it and said, “Shit.”
“What?”
“It’s Ari Gold.”
Eric doesn’t think Vince’s agent has called him since around the time Vince did his first off-Broadway play since coming back. Eric’s never actually spoken to the guy, but that didn’t impress him. The way Vince is looking though, and the noise coming down that line, Eric’s going to have to ask the questions.
There’s a role. Vince already has work lined up - a film, even, though it’s not far off someone’s graduation piece. It’s a good script, but a shitty budget. Whatever Ari Gold is offering is better.
Vince lies beside him in Eric’s tiny bed and says, “What do you think?”
“It’s what you think that matters, Vin.”
“That’s not what I…”
“I think you should do what you want.”
“E.”
“And if what you want is to go back to LA, then that’s what you should do.”
“I don’t-”
“And if you want me to come with you then I’m going to need you to ask the fucking question, all right?”
Vince laughs and pulls Eric very close. The heating is still gone, but it’s March now, and sunny. Vince tastes of chocolate frosting straight from the tub, eaten after he decided that pot might help the decision-making process. Vince says, “Come with me. I’m gonna make so many mistakes, and you need to fix them for me.”
“Well,” Eric says, “with an offer like that, how could I say no?”
*
They go thirteen days in LA without sex, what with dealing with Ari, and with Drama and Turtle, and getting Vince to and from so many meetings that it makes Eric’s head spin. It hadn’t mattered so much that Vince couldn’t drive in New York, but this is ridiculous.
He’s lying on his (huge) bed in the house Vince’s advance paid for. Vince walks into the room and drops beside him. He turns his face into Eric’s side and breathes.
“You can’t possibly be cold,” Eric says.
The vibration of Vince’s soft laughter makes Eric squirm. “No,” Vince says. “Maybe I just wanna sleep.”
“It’s three in the afternoon.”
“Then I’ve gotta ask: what are you doing in bed?”
“I’m lying on the bed, jackass, and before you got here I was reading scripts.”
“I’m too hot,” Vince whines.
“Go for a swim. You’re not gonna get any cooler lying here.”
Vince pretends to consider that for a moment. His hand strays down to the hem of his t-shirt, and he pulls at it, baring his stomach.
“That’s not gonna get you cooler either.”
“How about,” Vince suggests, “we do the hot and sticky part, and then we both go to the pool and cool off?”
“Now you’re interested?”
Vince raises himself up on his arm to look at Eric. “When did I stop?”
“You haven’t exactly been eager, now that Drama’s been throwing all of these fame whores at you.”
“So he’s been pushing. Doesn’t mean I’ve been taking up the offer. Offers. I’ve got you.” Vince blinks at him. “Right?”
Eric leans up into Vince for the kiss, all misplaced angles and poor balance. Vince falls against him and laughs again, and darts his tongue against Eric’s barely parted lips.
LA warmth, and they’re both in t-shirts and shorts; Eric can feel the outline of Vince’s cock hard through the fabric.
They don’t fuck side-by-side very often - there’s less room for movement and, back in New York, a really high chance of falling off the bed. But it lets them be slow; the roll of Vince’s hips sliding him in and out like he could do this all day. Like he just might, with the sun warming their bed, and the script dropped on the floor.
They don’t, of course, though it’s late in the evening by the time they’re showered and dressed to meet Ari.
Ari looks at Vince and says, “So you’re gay now? How the hell did you not think to mention this before?”
“I’m with Eric now,” Vince corrects, “and I wasn’t before.”
Eric doesn’t hate Ari Gold nearly as much as he was expecting too. And he thinks that maybe there might have been a few more phone calls Vince never told him about, because Ari didn’t seem so surprised when Vince brought Eric with him to that first meeting.
Ari had just looked Eric up and down like he had been expecting some high school buddy in sweatpants, looking for a handout. Eric had been in his (then) one good suit, and shook Ari’s hand, keeping eye contact. Eric had blinked first, but it had been a close-run thing.
Ari looks at him now, and Eric doesn’t look away. He’s been Vince’s manager, however unofficially, for way longer than Ari’s been his agent.
“So you’re staying, then,” Ari says.
“Looks like,” Eric says. “I like the weather here.”
Vince laughs, and leans down to whisper in Eric’s ear, “Pool sex. Beach sex, what do you think?”
Eric mostly thinks sand, but Vince has a way of talking him into stupid ideas. He turns to Ari and says, “So we’re midway through filming. Tell me you’re ready to get the next one booked? I don’t wanna be waiting around for box office numbers in June.”
Ari says, “Where in the motherfucking world did you find this one, Vinnie?” Eric coughs, and Ari looks back and properly focuses on Eric to reply. Eric listens and nods, and all the while he feels Vince’s steady gaze warming the side of his face, like a reminder of everything they’re going to be here together.
FIN