Entourage FF: This is how we make decisions [Ari/Vince, Ari/Eric, Eric/Vince; NC-17]
Title: This is how we make decisions
Fandom: Entourage
Pairing: Ari/Vince, Ari/Eric, Eric/Vince (overall Eric/Vince)
Rating: NC-17
Length: 2,900 words
Disclaimer: All belongs to Doug Ellin et al
Spoilers: Up to 5.02
Summary: When Vince left, Eric coped. When he came back, Eric coped. But one way or another, they need to have a conversation.
AN: So, because 5.11 made me sad, and I don't get 5.12 until Thursday, I decided to finish something I started way back near the beginning of this season. This probably isn't how the boys made up, but who knows?
The four of them don’t quite fit in Johnny’s apartment. Oh, there are enough beds and stuff, but it just doesn’t work the way it should. Eric stands across on the other side of the room, and when Vince walks up beside him, he startles, like a cat spooked.
Johnny, at least, is enjoying having more people to cook for. He’s in the kitchen throwing together some late night snacks, with Vince and Turtle hanging over the bar in anticipation. Eric went to bed an hour ago, pleading exhaustion after Mexico, and the Danger Beach fiasco.
Vince is working on a beer, and Turtle’s rolling up some genuine California-grown marijuana. The crash from the other bedroom makes both of them drop what they’re holding. Vince would be halfway there even without Eric’s cursing of, “Fuck, Vince.” He stops only because Johnny keeps turning over the omelettes, with a semi-annoyed look on his face.
Eric wanders in from the hall. Johnny growls, “Take the fucking pills, E.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Eric says.
“Take them before, you wouldn’t need to wake the whole building up.”
“They make my head weird.”
“Your head’s already weird.” Johnny reaches into one of the top cupboards, extracts a bottle, and tosses Eric one little pill.
Eric laughs. “For someone so eager to see me doped up on horse tranquillisers, you’re awfully protective of that bottle.”
Johnny slides an omelette onto one of the plates. “Never be too careful.”
“I’m not an O.C. housewife, Drama - I’m not topping myself with sleeping pills.”
“Never be too careful,” Johnny repeats, and pours Eric a glass of water. “Get some sleep.”
“If I miss Charlie’s thing tomorrow-”
“I’m going to the gym in the a.m - working on my upper body definition. Vince might come along. We’ll make sure you’re up for the meeting.”
Eric looks up. “Thanks, Drama.”
“No problem.”
Eric kind of nods at Vince and Turtle, knocks back the pill with the water, and pads back to bed.
Turtle sniffs. “He slept at all lately?”
There are never any lines drawn between them, and even if there were, Johnny would always be on Vince’s side. Still, he looks right at Vince when he says, “Not since you left.”
* * *
Ari can ego-stroke with the best of them, he just hates doing it. It make him slam doors and yell things to Lloyd like, “If any of them had any fucking talent to begin with, we wouldn’t have this problem!” Once they’re out of the building, naturally.
Vince is a different story. Vince makes Ari doubt himself. Vince is sitting on Ari’s couch again, about to ask some other question Ari doesn’t want to answer. It’s already dark outside, but when Vince calls him direct, Ari has to listen.
Vince blinks. “You think I should go to the gym, Ari?”
“You were at the gym this morning. You really want to start looking like our illustrious governor, go ahead, but bodybuilders make terrible actors.”
Vince flinches.
Ari covers up seeing it with, “What’s with the sudden health concern?”
“It’s not really… It’s more of a… you know. Looks, concern.”
And Ari would bet that Vince hasn’t thought twice about his looks since he was a scrawny kid with eyes too big for his head. Since he kept growing up, and E stopped, and Vince turned into, well, this. Vince’s back is bent underneath his hooded sweatshirt, hunched in on himself. He twists his hands in his lap, and when he looks up, there are dark shadows under his eyes.
“You could maybe do with a good night’s sleep,” Ari suggests.
Vince jolts. “You talk to Johnny lately?”
“I leave all Drama-related problems to Lloyd. He likes to feel important. Why, what did he do now?”
“Nothing. Nothing. Just… Eric hasn’t been sleeping. He has, like, pills or something, but he’s not taking them.”
“Of course he’s not! Those things kill your judgement. Now, given E, I’m not sure how we’ll notice, but anyway. Pills are bad. You got that?”
“I’m not gonna…” Vince trails off. “O.C. housewife,” he mutters.
“Yeah, exactly that. We’ve got enough publicity problems without you turning up to an appearance stoned.”
“I don’t think that was what Johnny meant.”
Ari replays the conversation in his head. Christ. Eric was twitchy the last time Ari saw him, but he’s not… He’s not. Ari shakes his head, and Vince looks at him curiously. Ari crouches on the floor, resting his hand on Vince’s knee. “What’s bugging you?”
Vince leans forward, and his hair slips over his eyes. “I don’t think E likes me right now.”
“Vinnie-”
“I made him need sleeping pills. And I should go work out.” His leg flexes under Ari’s hand, like he’s going to go right now. And this is LA, so there’ll be somewhere open, even this late, but Vince doesn’t need it. Working out isn’t a bad idea, but not twice in one day, without the excuse of a role to bulk up for. Not for Vince, who doesn’t need any more stories about breakdown. Obsessive exercise is one of those things that makes people start whispering ‘rehab’.
Ari lifts his left hand, using Vince’s knee to steady himself. He looks at Vince. “We’re going to fix this.”
“You don’t think I can act.”
“You haven’t had the right role. Yet. I’m going to get it for you, so you should just go home, and jerk off with the guys or whatever the hell it is you do when you’re not here freaking out on me. Jesus, Vinnie, where’s the trust gone?”
“I trust you.” Vince is never more sincere than when he’s pretending apology. Ari wonders how many girls have lost themselves in those wide open eyes, and not noticed what else was going on. Vince says, “I just- I should go to the gym, right?”
Ari explodes, “My God. You look great. You always look great. Women would leave their husbands with a glance. My wife might even be tempted, and she didn’t look twice when I brought Clooney to dinner. You’re a fucking movie star, Vince, that hasn’t changed. Is that what you wanted?”
He shoves, for emphasis, and Vince’s knees slip open. Ari falls against Vince, and is caught around the ribcage. Vince’s eyes open properly wide this time, no guile. It’s too easy for Ari to slip his hand down Vince’s chest, and into his jeans, which are so loose on his hips. Vince’s mouth opens, and his tongue is red on his lips. He murmurs, “Ari.”
“I’m going to take care of you. Let me do that, and it’ll all be okay. You believe me, don’t you, Vinnie? I don’t lie to you - that’s why you hired me. Twice.”
“Sometimes you lie.” Vince’s voice is whispery. He’s leaning back on the couch, loose and pliant.
A woman, maybe, would object to having to do all the work, but Ari is in his element. He touches Vince’s neck, and his chest, and then wraps his fist around Vince’s dick. He says all the right things, and hopes perhaps Vince will be distracted enough to believe them. “You’re beautiful, and you’re a star. This is just a set-back. We’re still gonna get there, okay? I’m going to make this happen for you.”
* * *
Vince doesn’t mean to spy on E. He’s not spying on E. He has an office here - he has every right to creep into it, closing the doors softly so Eric won’t notice. And he means, mostly, to go and talk to Eric afterwards. To sort this whole thing out.
Except E’s not alone in the office. Which normally Vince would be cool with. He’d sneak out again, and tease Eric later about the girl. But it’s Ari’s voice he hears coming from the office. Ari’s voice, and E’s reluctant laughter. It’s selfish, but he’s never really pictured the two of them just hanging out without him.
Vince pads closer to the open door. He can just make out Eric’s hands. A step closer, and he can see Ari on the chair, sitting while Eric stands. Eric has stopped laughing.
“I swear to God,” Eric says, not laughing at all now, “I didn’t think he was coming back. I really thought- God.”
“I know you did, you paranoid motherfucker,” Ari says, “I’m the one who had to listen to you whine about it, remember? Worse than a teenage girl whose boyfriend went away to college. ‘Ari, What if he meets some other girl and forgets all about me?’”
Eric waves a script vaguely in the direction of Ari’s head. “Asshole.”
“Aw, baby, don’t be like that. Didn’t I tell you it’d be all right?”
“You did.”
“And what did you say?”
“Ari…”
“E.”
Vince can see Eric rubbing his foot on the floor, his hands clenched in the fists he so rarely uses to throw punches now.
Ari says, “E.”
“I don’t know what-”
“You know I’d screw you over for Vinnie any day of the week, right?”
Eric laughs. “Yeah, Ari, I do.”
“So you gotta believe me when I tell you this. Vince is a selfish little fucker sometimes.”
Eric’s exhale shakes, and Vince bites his lip.
Ari says, “He’s gonna bleed you dry, and you’ll take it. But never forget this: you know better than he does. Ninety nine times out of a hundred, we need to save him from himself. He’s a fucking child, E. And you love the bastard, so stop whining.”
Eric steps closer to Ari, and leans down. “You keep saying ‘we’, I’m gonna think you like me. One of these days, you’re going to have to decide whether I’m on Vince’s side of the line, or yours.”
Ari says, “Yeah, well, one of these days, so are you.”
Eric stumbles when he tries to sit down, ends up on the floor by the leg of Ari’s chair. Ari laughs, and Eric doesn’t. Eric pulls himself up onto his knees, and Vince closes his eyes to the sound of the zipper being drawn open.
Eric says, “This what you meant, Ari?”
Ari coughs. “This was your bet, E. You’re the one that said… Jesus fucking Christ.”
Vince can’t see Eric anymore. He can see the side of Ari’s face, when he turns his head, lips pinched tight to keep the sound in.
There is a wet noise, Ari groans, and Eric is speaking again. “You remember the end of it? What I said? What I said I’d end up making you say?”
“Jackass.”
Eric’s hands shift to where Vince can see them, braced on the top of Ari’s chair; his face is buried in Ari’s neck. Ari jerks when Eric does something with his mouth. Ari says, “All right, all right.” His voice drops. “I should have listened to you about Medellín. If we’d sold it to Harvey sight unseen at least we wouldn’t be financially as well as creatively bankrupt.” Eric’s head moves lower, his breath comes in little desperate gasps. Ari says, “You were fucking right, E, okay? You were right.”
Ari’s head hits the back of the chair, and Vince doesn’t need to see what’s going on. He stumbles into the wall on the way out of the office, but Ari and Eric are too far gone to hear him.
* * *
Eric is sitting on the couch when Vince gets in. Vince has been weird all day, from the moment Eric got up (still tired from meeting with Ari, and from not sleeping) right through to now, when he frowns at Eric, and looks at his feet.
“Vin?”
“Yeah?”
“You okay? You’ve been-” Eric doesn’t know how to describe how Vince has been, so he trails off. Vince seems to know what he means though, because his cheeks flush.
Vince goes to the kitchen, raiding the fridge for a beer. Head still behind the door of the fridge, he says, “I saw you with Ari last night.” He resurfaces, pops the cap off the bottle, and purses his mouth around its neck. He looks at Eric, expectantly.
The first thing Eric can think of to say is the wrong thing: “What were you doing in the office?”
“Jesus, E, is that really the big question here?”
“It won’t affect him representing you. It was a one-time thing.”
“Didn’t look like a-”
“Twice, then, okay? Twice. Because-”
He can’t finish that sentence either, and when he is about to try, or to start over, Vince crosses the room. He knocks into the table, and the couch, and generally shows none of his usual languid grace. For a moment, Eric truly believes maybe Vince is going to hit him; then they’re kissing.
Their teeth collide, and Vince is already taller without the way he’s sprawled over Eric on the couch. Vince’s fingers fumble at Eric’s shirt, and his knee is pressing uncomfortably on Eric’s thigh. Eric pushes him, gently as he can manage. “Vince.”
“E.” Vince lets himself be turned onto the couch, with Eric on top of him. Eric unbuttons Vince’s fly, and kisses him again. Vince moans into it, his open mouth an excuse for Eric to slip his tongue inside and this is what kissing Vince is meant to be like. Vince winds his hands around Eric and pulls him closer. Friction, but not enough, and they scrabble about until Eric’s pants are off, and Vince’s jeans around his ankles.
Vince makes a sudden grab for the abandoned jeans, nearly tipping Eric off him. He grabs at Vince’s shoulders, and Vince laughs into his neck, holding him tight off the edge of the couch. “Relax, I’ve got you.” He pulls something out of the jeans pocket. “I was going to… I don’t know what I was going to do. But I never do, right? I just let you pick up the pieces.”
Vince settles back down on the couch, Eric loosely held in his arms. Eric unpeels Vince’s fingers from the lube, and reaches back. He closes his eyes - he can’t do this with Vince watching - but he can hear Vince all the same. Vince’s murmurs, and groans, and shuddering breaths. Eric opens his eyes a sec. “This is all gonna be for nothing if you’re not-” He looks down at Vince’s crotch, and up at Vince’s eyes. “Okay then. So you just watch a minute. It’s cool.”
“Yeah,” Vince breathes.
It burns - spreading his legs like that, and the way Vince presses in - when Eric lifts himself up and then down onto Vince. Vince holds him back long enough to kiss him once more, before shifting up, and letting Eric set the pace.
In his ear, Vince is whispering, “I’m sorry, all right? That was what I came to the office to tell you. That was what I wanted to say when I walked in just now.”
“That why you’re doing this?” Eric asks, not sure, for one horrifying moment, whether or not he cares.
Vince lays his palms flat on Eric’s back. “Nope. This is me being selfish.”
Eric laughs. “So business as usual then?” And then Vince says ‘e’, small, and shattered open; he pulls Eric into an impossible angle, clutching at him. He says, “I missed you too, you know?”
Eric shakes his head against Vince’s neck.
* * *
Eric actually falls asleep on him. Right after, and Vince can’t decide whether or not he should be insulted. They had just about managed to get the condom off and into the trash - one of them will have to remember that later - and Eric had sprawled back onto the couch. Vince opened his mouth to start a conversation he didn’t want to have. It took him a minute or two to think of the opener, and by that time, Eric was making muffled noises onto Vince’s shoulder.
Vince shakes him.
“Mmm?” Eric mutters.
“You fell asleep.”
“I know. It was nice.”
Vince frowns, “Yeah, okay,” and pulls Eric up by both arms. Eric protests, still mostly asleep, but allows Vince to drag him towards the bedroom.
Vince lowers him onto the bed, and goes back to recover Eric’s pants and his own jeans. He so doesn’t want to have that conversation in the morning.
Eric is in (or on) his own bed, and Vince’s own is down the hall. Vince stops. He opens Eric’s door, and peers in. Eric has lost his shirt, and is lying on the bed in a grey tee and boxers. Vince watches him for a bit, until Eric stirs and asks, “Vince?”
“Yeah?”
“Vin.” And E’s not cursing in his sleep this time - he’s opened his eyes to look at Vince. No accusation, no expectation. Vince remembers what Ari had said: he’s gonna bleed you dry.
“If I left again,” Vince says, “It’d make your life easier, wouldn’t it? You’ve got other clients, you’re on the up. You don’t need my name on your list to make it sound good. It actually probably makes it- If I left again-”
“I wouldn’t forgive you. Ever. In or out, Vince, make a decision.”
Vince reaches for the door handle, watches Eric’s eyes, and closes himself into the room. He pulls the bedspread out from under Eric, and lies down, covering them both. Vince looks at the ceiling. Eric turns over, laying his arm on Vince’s chest, and kissing his shoulder. After a few minutes of silence, Vince asks, “Okay?” Eric is already asleep.
FIN. Feedback's always welcomed, as is concrit. I finished this pretty late, so feel especially free to point out any typoes you spot!
Fandom: Entourage
Pairing: Ari/Vince, Ari/Eric, Eric/Vince (overall Eric/Vince)
Rating: NC-17
Length: 2,900 words
Disclaimer: All belongs to Doug Ellin et al
Spoilers: Up to 5.02
Summary: When Vince left, Eric coped. When he came back, Eric coped. But one way or another, they need to have a conversation.
AN: So, because 5.11 made me sad, and I don't get 5.12 until Thursday, I decided to finish something I started way back near the beginning of this season. This probably isn't how the boys made up, but who knows?
The four of them don’t quite fit in Johnny’s apartment. Oh, there are enough beds and stuff, but it just doesn’t work the way it should. Eric stands across on the other side of the room, and when Vince walks up beside him, he startles, like a cat spooked.
Johnny, at least, is enjoying having more people to cook for. He’s in the kitchen throwing together some late night snacks, with Vince and Turtle hanging over the bar in anticipation. Eric went to bed an hour ago, pleading exhaustion after Mexico, and the Danger Beach fiasco.
Vince is working on a beer, and Turtle’s rolling up some genuine California-grown marijuana. The crash from the other bedroom makes both of them drop what they’re holding. Vince would be halfway there even without Eric’s cursing of, “Fuck, Vince.” He stops only because Johnny keeps turning over the omelettes, with a semi-annoyed look on his face.
Eric wanders in from the hall. Johnny growls, “Take the fucking pills, E.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Eric says.
“Take them before, you wouldn’t need to wake the whole building up.”
“They make my head weird.”
“Your head’s already weird.” Johnny reaches into one of the top cupboards, extracts a bottle, and tosses Eric one little pill.
Eric laughs. “For someone so eager to see me doped up on horse tranquillisers, you’re awfully protective of that bottle.”
Johnny slides an omelette onto one of the plates. “Never be too careful.”
“I’m not an O.C. housewife, Drama - I’m not topping myself with sleeping pills.”
“Never be too careful,” Johnny repeats, and pours Eric a glass of water. “Get some sleep.”
“If I miss Charlie’s thing tomorrow-”
“I’m going to the gym in the a.m - working on my upper body definition. Vince might come along. We’ll make sure you’re up for the meeting.”
Eric looks up. “Thanks, Drama.”
“No problem.”
Eric kind of nods at Vince and Turtle, knocks back the pill with the water, and pads back to bed.
Turtle sniffs. “He slept at all lately?”
There are never any lines drawn between them, and even if there were, Johnny would always be on Vince’s side. Still, he looks right at Vince when he says, “Not since you left.”
* * *
Ari can ego-stroke with the best of them, he just hates doing it. It make him slam doors and yell things to Lloyd like, “If any of them had any fucking talent to begin with, we wouldn’t have this problem!” Once they’re out of the building, naturally.
Vince is a different story. Vince makes Ari doubt himself. Vince is sitting on Ari’s couch again, about to ask some other question Ari doesn’t want to answer. It’s already dark outside, but when Vince calls him direct, Ari has to listen.
Vince blinks. “You think I should go to the gym, Ari?”
“You were at the gym this morning. You really want to start looking like our illustrious governor, go ahead, but bodybuilders make terrible actors.”
Vince flinches.
Ari covers up seeing it with, “What’s with the sudden health concern?”
“It’s not really… It’s more of a… you know. Looks, concern.”
And Ari would bet that Vince hasn’t thought twice about his looks since he was a scrawny kid with eyes too big for his head. Since he kept growing up, and E stopped, and Vince turned into, well, this. Vince’s back is bent underneath his hooded sweatshirt, hunched in on himself. He twists his hands in his lap, and when he looks up, there are dark shadows under his eyes.
“You could maybe do with a good night’s sleep,” Ari suggests.
Vince jolts. “You talk to Johnny lately?”
“I leave all Drama-related problems to Lloyd. He likes to feel important. Why, what did he do now?”
“Nothing. Nothing. Just… Eric hasn’t been sleeping. He has, like, pills or something, but he’s not taking them.”
“Of course he’s not! Those things kill your judgement. Now, given E, I’m not sure how we’ll notice, but anyway. Pills are bad. You got that?”
“I’m not gonna…” Vince trails off. “O.C. housewife,” he mutters.
“Yeah, exactly that. We’ve got enough publicity problems without you turning up to an appearance stoned.”
“I don’t think that was what Johnny meant.”
Ari replays the conversation in his head. Christ. Eric was twitchy the last time Ari saw him, but he’s not… He’s not. Ari shakes his head, and Vince looks at him curiously. Ari crouches on the floor, resting his hand on Vince’s knee. “What’s bugging you?”
Vince leans forward, and his hair slips over his eyes. “I don’t think E likes me right now.”
“Vinnie-”
“I made him need sleeping pills. And I should go work out.” His leg flexes under Ari’s hand, like he’s going to go right now. And this is LA, so there’ll be somewhere open, even this late, but Vince doesn’t need it. Working out isn’t a bad idea, but not twice in one day, without the excuse of a role to bulk up for. Not for Vince, who doesn’t need any more stories about breakdown. Obsessive exercise is one of those things that makes people start whispering ‘rehab’.
Ari lifts his left hand, using Vince’s knee to steady himself. He looks at Vince. “We’re going to fix this.”
“You don’t think I can act.”
“You haven’t had the right role. Yet. I’m going to get it for you, so you should just go home, and jerk off with the guys or whatever the hell it is you do when you’re not here freaking out on me. Jesus, Vinnie, where’s the trust gone?”
“I trust you.” Vince is never more sincere than when he’s pretending apology. Ari wonders how many girls have lost themselves in those wide open eyes, and not noticed what else was going on. Vince says, “I just- I should go to the gym, right?”
Ari explodes, “My God. You look great. You always look great. Women would leave their husbands with a glance. My wife might even be tempted, and she didn’t look twice when I brought Clooney to dinner. You’re a fucking movie star, Vince, that hasn’t changed. Is that what you wanted?”
He shoves, for emphasis, and Vince’s knees slip open. Ari falls against Vince, and is caught around the ribcage. Vince’s eyes open properly wide this time, no guile. It’s too easy for Ari to slip his hand down Vince’s chest, and into his jeans, which are so loose on his hips. Vince’s mouth opens, and his tongue is red on his lips. He murmurs, “Ari.”
“I’m going to take care of you. Let me do that, and it’ll all be okay. You believe me, don’t you, Vinnie? I don’t lie to you - that’s why you hired me. Twice.”
“Sometimes you lie.” Vince’s voice is whispery. He’s leaning back on the couch, loose and pliant.
A woman, maybe, would object to having to do all the work, but Ari is in his element. He touches Vince’s neck, and his chest, and then wraps his fist around Vince’s dick. He says all the right things, and hopes perhaps Vince will be distracted enough to believe them. “You’re beautiful, and you’re a star. This is just a set-back. We’re still gonna get there, okay? I’m going to make this happen for you.”
* * *
Vince doesn’t mean to spy on E. He’s not spying on E. He has an office here - he has every right to creep into it, closing the doors softly so Eric won’t notice. And he means, mostly, to go and talk to Eric afterwards. To sort this whole thing out.
Except E’s not alone in the office. Which normally Vince would be cool with. He’d sneak out again, and tease Eric later about the girl. But it’s Ari’s voice he hears coming from the office. Ari’s voice, and E’s reluctant laughter. It’s selfish, but he’s never really pictured the two of them just hanging out without him.
Vince pads closer to the open door. He can just make out Eric’s hands. A step closer, and he can see Ari on the chair, sitting while Eric stands. Eric has stopped laughing.
“I swear to God,” Eric says, not laughing at all now, “I didn’t think he was coming back. I really thought- God.”
“I know you did, you paranoid motherfucker,” Ari says, “I’m the one who had to listen to you whine about it, remember? Worse than a teenage girl whose boyfriend went away to college. ‘Ari, What if he meets some other girl and forgets all about me?’”
Eric waves a script vaguely in the direction of Ari’s head. “Asshole.”
“Aw, baby, don’t be like that. Didn’t I tell you it’d be all right?”
“You did.”
“And what did you say?”
“Ari…”
“E.”
Vince can see Eric rubbing his foot on the floor, his hands clenched in the fists he so rarely uses to throw punches now.
Ari says, “E.”
“I don’t know what-”
“You know I’d screw you over for Vinnie any day of the week, right?”
Eric laughs. “Yeah, Ari, I do.”
“So you gotta believe me when I tell you this. Vince is a selfish little fucker sometimes.”
Eric’s exhale shakes, and Vince bites his lip.
Ari says, “He’s gonna bleed you dry, and you’ll take it. But never forget this: you know better than he does. Ninety nine times out of a hundred, we need to save him from himself. He’s a fucking child, E. And you love the bastard, so stop whining.”
Eric steps closer to Ari, and leans down. “You keep saying ‘we’, I’m gonna think you like me. One of these days, you’re going to have to decide whether I’m on Vince’s side of the line, or yours.”
Ari says, “Yeah, well, one of these days, so are you.”
Eric stumbles when he tries to sit down, ends up on the floor by the leg of Ari’s chair. Ari laughs, and Eric doesn’t. Eric pulls himself up onto his knees, and Vince closes his eyes to the sound of the zipper being drawn open.
Eric says, “This what you meant, Ari?”
Ari coughs. “This was your bet, E. You’re the one that said… Jesus fucking Christ.”
Vince can’t see Eric anymore. He can see the side of Ari’s face, when he turns his head, lips pinched tight to keep the sound in.
There is a wet noise, Ari groans, and Eric is speaking again. “You remember the end of it? What I said? What I said I’d end up making you say?”
“Jackass.”
Eric’s hands shift to where Vince can see them, braced on the top of Ari’s chair; his face is buried in Ari’s neck. Ari jerks when Eric does something with his mouth. Ari says, “All right, all right.” His voice drops. “I should have listened to you about Medellín. If we’d sold it to Harvey sight unseen at least we wouldn’t be financially as well as creatively bankrupt.” Eric’s head moves lower, his breath comes in little desperate gasps. Ari says, “You were fucking right, E, okay? You were right.”
Ari’s head hits the back of the chair, and Vince doesn’t need to see what’s going on. He stumbles into the wall on the way out of the office, but Ari and Eric are too far gone to hear him.
* * *
Eric is sitting on the couch when Vince gets in. Vince has been weird all day, from the moment Eric got up (still tired from meeting with Ari, and from not sleeping) right through to now, when he frowns at Eric, and looks at his feet.
“Vin?”
“Yeah?”
“You okay? You’ve been-” Eric doesn’t know how to describe how Vince has been, so he trails off. Vince seems to know what he means though, because his cheeks flush.
Vince goes to the kitchen, raiding the fridge for a beer. Head still behind the door of the fridge, he says, “I saw you with Ari last night.” He resurfaces, pops the cap off the bottle, and purses his mouth around its neck. He looks at Eric, expectantly.
The first thing Eric can think of to say is the wrong thing: “What were you doing in the office?”
“Jesus, E, is that really the big question here?”
“It won’t affect him representing you. It was a one-time thing.”
“Didn’t look like a-”
“Twice, then, okay? Twice. Because-”
He can’t finish that sentence either, and when he is about to try, or to start over, Vince crosses the room. He knocks into the table, and the couch, and generally shows none of his usual languid grace. For a moment, Eric truly believes maybe Vince is going to hit him; then they’re kissing.
Their teeth collide, and Vince is already taller without the way he’s sprawled over Eric on the couch. Vince’s fingers fumble at Eric’s shirt, and his knee is pressing uncomfortably on Eric’s thigh. Eric pushes him, gently as he can manage. “Vince.”
“E.” Vince lets himself be turned onto the couch, with Eric on top of him. Eric unbuttons Vince’s fly, and kisses him again. Vince moans into it, his open mouth an excuse for Eric to slip his tongue inside and this is what kissing Vince is meant to be like. Vince winds his hands around Eric and pulls him closer. Friction, but not enough, and they scrabble about until Eric’s pants are off, and Vince’s jeans around his ankles.
Vince makes a sudden grab for the abandoned jeans, nearly tipping Eric off him. He grabs at Vince’s shoulders, and Vince laughs into his neck, holding him tight off the edge of the couch. “Relax, I’ve got you.” He pulls something out of the jeans pocket. “I was going to… I don’t know what I was going to do. But I never do, right? I just let you pick up the pieces.”
Vince settles back down on the couch, Eric loosely held in his arms. Eric unpeels Vince’s fingers from the lube, and reaches back. He closes his eyes - he can’t do this with Vince watching - but he can hear Vince all the same. Vince’s murmurs, and groans, and shuddering breaths. Eric opens his eyes a sec. “This is all gonna be for nothing if you’re not-” He looks down at Vince’s crotch, and up at Vince’s eyes. “Okay then. So you just watch a minute. It’s cool.”
“Yeah,” Vince breathes.
It burns - spreading his legs like that, and the way Vince presses in - when Eric lifts himself up and then down onto Vince. Vince holds him back long enough to kiss him once more, before shifting up, and letting Eric set the pace.
In his ear, Vince is whispering, “I’m sorry, all right? That was what I came to the office to tell you. That was what I wanted to say when I walked in just now.”
“That why you’re doing this?” Eric asks, not sure, for one horrifying moment, whether or not he cares.
Vince lays his palms flat on Eric’s back. “Nope. This is me being selfish.”
Eric laughs. “So business as usual then?” And then Vince says ‘e’, small, and shattered open; he pulls Eric into an impossible angle, clutching at him. He says, “I missed you too, you know?”
Eric shakes his head against Vince’s neck.
* * *
Eric actually falls asleep on him. Right after, and Vince can’t decide whether or not he should be insulted. They had just about managed to get the condom off and into the trash - one of them will have to remember that later - and Eric had sprawled back onto the couch. Vince opened his mouth to start a conversation he didn’t want to have. It took him a minute or two to think of the opener, and by that time, Eric was making muffled noises onto Vince’s shoulder.
Vince shakes him.
“Mmm?” Eric mutters.
“You fell asleep.”
“I know. It was nice.”
Vince frowns, “Yeah, okay,” and pulls Eric up by both arms. Eric protests, still mostly asleep, but allows Vince to drag him towards the bedroom.
Vince lowers him onto the bed, and goes back to recover Eric’s pants and his own jeans. He so doesn’t want to have that conversation in the morning.
Eric is in (or on) his own bed, and Vince’s own is down the hall. Vince stops. He opens Eric’s door, and peers in. Eric has lost his shirt, and is lying on the bed in a grey tee and boxers. Vince watches him for a bit, until Eric stirs and asks, “Vince?”
“Yeah?”
“Vin.” And E’s not cursing in his sleep this time - he’s opened his eyes to look at Vince. No accusation, no expectation. Vince remembers what Ari had said: he’s gonna bleed you dry.
“If I left again,” Vince says, “It’d make your life easier, wouldn’t it? You’ve got other clients, you’re on the up. You don’t need my name on your list to make it sound good. It actually probably makes it- If I left again-”
“I wouldn’t forgive you. Ever. In or out, Vince, make a decision.”
Vince reaches for the door handle, watches Eric’s eyes, and closes himself into the room. He pulls the bedspread out from under Eric, and lies down, covering them both. Vince looks at the ceiling. Eric turns over, laying his arm on Vince’s chest, and kissing his shoulder. After a few minutes of silence, Vince asks, “Okay?” Eric is already asleep.
FIN. Feedback's always welcomed, as is concrit. I finished this pretty late, so feel especially free to point out any typoes you spot!