High School Musical Slash,Whoot!--(Roughly UNBETA-ed)
TITLE: Welcome to Hollywood, Baby, There Ain’t Nothing Like it. (1/3)
RATING: R18
PAIRING: Troy/Ryan-their non-existent tandem on-screen blew my mind away.
SUMMARY:
WARNING: Gay Disney-if you say nay to thwarted childhood stereotypes then I suggest you close this window. Trust me, this won’t be your cup of tea.
GENRE: Light Romance/Slight(ly Unwanted) Humour CRACK!
WHY NOT CHAD/RYAN? Simply because I don’t thrive on sadism-it’s like, two rocks drooling on each other. So okay, maybe a little bit of Chad and Ryan because they’re just too cute to ignore.
As told by i_l0ve_my_az:
NBA superstar Troy Bolton had everything going for him: looks, talent, money and a wonderful girlfriend--that is until Gabriella decides to break off their engagement. Sharpay Evans is on the cusp of Hollywood superstardom, but she needs that extra something to separate her from the rest of the pack. A whirlwind romance between Troy and Sharpay is just what both their careers need. While they are hounded by the paparazzi and all the pitfalls of fame, Troy finds himself strangely drawn to Ryan, Sharpay's brother and publicist. Will the succeeding media frenzy be enough to boost Troy and Sharpay's flagging media cred?
PART 1
When Ryan reluctantly crawled out of his generic Martha Stewart brand salmon-coloured comforter, he knew instantly that it was a quarter past two o' clock PM (call it a hunch for the lack of a better term). Letting out a muffled groan, he attempted to disentangle himself from the offending cotton fabric wrapped around slinkily on his jaunty hips.
He made a mental note of making a quick trip to Ikea next week, most definitely before dropping by the local deli to pick up Sharpay's pasramis--that and to never again crawl into bed at five AM after bouts of animalistic partying, mixing gin tonics with cranberry vodka, and downing an entire bottle of Xanax (more like two pills tops).
“RYAN!” Exclaimed a flurry of fuchsia and blue boas, shiny blonde hair, glittering crystal Swarovski embellishments, and blinding flash of bright white enamels obscenely bleached to perfection (bursting uninvited, mind)--yep, definitely straight out of a Grade B, low-budget sixties horror movie.
“Oh Lordy, too early to be dealing with you.” He muttered as he dove right into a mountainous pile of pillows.
"Ryan," the creature decked in pink whined as she tried to unearth Ryan from underneath the valley of comfortable cotton fabric, "There's something important I need to show you about Troy Bolton!"
“Leave me alone, fiend, you’re too shiny.”
Brandishing her newly painted claws, she grabbed the neckline of his mangy cotton shirt and forced him to sit upright, “Listen to me you little shit, in case you've forgetten--or haven't gotten it past your thick skull--you are in my payroll ergo, I am your employer and you are my employee. It is your job--no, duty, obviously, to cater to my every whim."
"God, you're such a bitch." He huffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "It's not as if I don't get any work done--I am, after all, responsible for the last three roles you've landed. Where's my effing Macchiato? You know I can't think without my non-fat Macchiato venti from Starbucks."
“Up your ass ducky,” She smacked him upside in the head with a copy of People Magazine, "Shut up and turn to page forty-three."
"You know princess," He smirked at her as she handed him a cup of piping hot black coffee and three Splenda packets, "this idea of yours isn't half as bad as I thought it would be--hell, it's actually pretty decent."
“Of course.” She flipped her hair haughtily.
"Yeah, yeah, you've always been the smarter twin." He emptied the last packet of condiment into his drink before heaving out a dramatic sigh, "Oh why, why did I have to be the prettier one?"
"So, how're things?" Chad asked hesitantly as Troy faked a pass and proceeded to dunk in front of him in all his testosterone-laden glory.
“Huh?” Troy frowned, wiping sweat trickling down his temples, secretly not wanting to be caught off-guard just in case a stray paparazzi chanced upon him playing one-on-one at such an exclusive suburban neighbourhood.
“Since, you know, you and Gabi called it quits.” He dribbled the ball lazily and attempted a three pointer (and failing miserably), “Fuck, bad shot.”
“Oh.” Troy picked the ball from under the ring, “I don’t know, a bit strange I guess. It’s been a long time since I’ve last been single.”
Chad made a move to steal the ball, “You don’t seem bothered.”
“Well, I guess I’ve seen it coming.” Troy shrugged as he held the ball close to his chest, “We both led separate lives and compromising’s a bitch. I loved her but I guess I didn’t love her enough to marry her.”
“Ouch.” Chad ran a hand through his hair as he watched the ball go past the hoop smoothly.
“Nah, she called me up last week to thank me.” Troy grabbed the ball and passed it straight to Chad, “Said she figured out what was wrong, how there was this certain conflict of interest between us-she didn’t say what though but she did say she was seeing someone from the Air Force.”
Troy neglected to mention that she told him flat-out that unlike him--Ted--yeah, that was his name, found it very strange that Troy liked to fuck her from behind.
“You know what I think?” Chad released the ball from his grip and pumped his fist in the air as it went through the net, “I think you need to have a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. You’re a bachelor now and the first thing you have to do is to drown the remnants of your last relationship in the sink and venture to more risqué conquests.”
“Risqué conquests, huh.” Troy let out a derisive snort.
"Yeah man, like, you need to get your head back in the game, Captain ball," Chad smirked at the rather skeptical expression Troy was currently sporting, "Come on man, show them what you've got! Come with me this weekend, let's have fun at Koi with a couple of friends and dance the night out at Fuse! Convincing, huh?”
Troy rolled his eyes, "Yeah, very convincing."
“Eliza Bynes? Yes, yes, this is Ryan Evans, Sharpay Evans’ publicist, thank you so very much for returning my call. I’ve been meaning to grab a hold of you for the past few weeks already but yeah, I know you’re busy. Ugh yeah, I can so sympathize I mean, I know I’m just handling one rising star but she’s been a handful now since her career skyrocketed but of course, nothing compares to your work, you are handling four powerhouse celebrities after all, I’d be surprised if you’re able to get the recommended eight hours of sleep.
“Oh my, I don’t think I can handle that. God, I’d probably kill her if she decides to venture into music-I mean, you do know how hard it is to get there, right? I mean, God, I’m such a skeeze, of course you do but I’m sure you can’t help but agree when I say that the music industry’s a different story. It’s all dirty business, how they have specifications and how everything there is sort of a gamble. You have to be cookie-cutter to fit the mold and you know, contact building’s a bitch especially if you’re a freelance publicist.
“Oh right, right, no, no, of course not, I’m just trying to set up a meeting between Troy Bolton and my charge. Well, not really set up per se seeing as the date had been set by a mutual friend of ours. Well actually, we’ve known Troy way back in High School. Yeah, we sort of went to the same school, East High. Yup! Small, small world indeed.
“So yeah, this mutual friend of ours, well, I think you know him, Chad Danforth-he owns danceforth studios-yeah, he's a star in his own right but for all it's worth, I taught the kid how to dance. Right, yeah! He is Troy’s best friend!
"Yeah, well, we’re all going out to Koi for Dinner tomorrow night and I’d love to invite you over. Oh no, nothing too heavy but we really do have to talk business--I have a little proposal of my own that might get Troy back on track.
“--Not that I’m saying he’s losing his touch or anything but I heard from random sources that Calvin Klein isn't renewing their contract with him--what a pity, he looked smokin' hot donning their briefs. Yeah, you know how, before you turn left to Rodeo drive, you'd see his huge billboard? I usually take that route instead of the easier one from where we live just so I could see his half-naked form.
“So, do you think you can make it? What? You Can't? Are you sure? Oh, you have a prior commitment? Well, okay, I'd be a bit uncomfortable discussing things with you in public but here it goes, well, in a nutshell, my plan is relatively simple and it's to get my girl to date your boy. He came from a tragic breakup, she's the new media darling--hey, hey! They'll be the next TomKat!"
“Look dude, they’re going to show up, I swear. I know these guys and they might be a little bit over the top but they get things going.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Troy grumbled as he stabbed the baby tomato right in front of him with his salad fork, “Some blind date this one’s turning out.”
It wasn't apocalypse or anything, probably a minute or two past nine, more than an hour since their supposed dates were to arrive but--hell, who was he kidding?
Man, they sure did make bad first impressions--that's for sure.
Troy just hated having to wait for anything. Yes, it was pretty much bad diva behaviour and he's quite sure he's been told off for more than a hundred times already by his agent and team mates but it didn't change the fact that it was still quite a rational request.
Well, to him, anyway--what was the point of having to wait for anything when it was possible for the aforementioned to arrive promptly?
That's just sheer bullshit, in his honest opinion.
It's no secret that Troy's spent a good decade or so being one of the top endorsers, having created a niche for himself. He was an A-list celebrity-athlete who knew the advantage of focus, discipline, and promptness; Even on his prime, (soon-to-decline), he hasn't stopped applying the very values that had brought him to his current position (Hollywood, tabloid-fodder-wise).
It was just--
“--S'about time, that's what I think!” Chad pushed his chair backwards with a halting screech as he made a move to stand.
Yeah, it's about time. Troy craned his neck with a blatant scowl writ on his face.
"Over here!" Chad waves his arms about enthusiastically for the blond, by the entrance, to notice.
Said blonde (in skin-tight denim jeans, leather boots, and dove-grey overcoat) seemed to have caught on to the (rather) vivid (and embarrassing) display of gesticulations.
Everyone's eyes were on him, and By God, he knew.
How could he not? The guy shimied like there was no tomorrow, hips rolling like as if he owned the entire world--he looked so polished, so cultured, and just so sexy that it was near impossible for anyone to peg him as an outsider to Hollywood.
Troy sighed contentedly, this night was starting to have potential.
“Surprise, surprise!”
Ryan dropped his Louis Vuitton speedy monogram on the empty seat across Troy. Truth be told, He really wasn't one for Louis Vuittons. Yeah, he loved designer handbags, man purses, wallets, and leather goods--(Balenciaga as one of his top picks) but the Louis Vuitton brand always appeared too tacky and desperate to him--and they stank heavily of the noveau-riche.
But! Rachel Zoe did tell him last week that after Chanel's quilted creations from last season tanked, the Louis Vuittons were back in season and that, for the moment, they were currently the shit of all bags.
"God, it's freezing." He rubbed his mitten-less palms together. "Hey Troy, I haven't seen you in like forever."
Troy stared at him, seemingly dumbfounded and definitely speechless.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Ryan laughed awkwardly as he checked his Philip Stein watch, “God, does it actually take more than ten minutes for the paparazzi to snap a picture? How embarrassing, to think she wore that top twice already.”
"Please speak in English." Chad glared half-heartedly at Ryan, "What took you so long?--'I'll see you at eight PM sharp, Chad, don't be late,'" He voiced in a falsetto, "eight PM indeed."
"What crawled up your ass and died," Ryan smirked at him, "We just saw each other this afternoon, I didn't think you'd miss me that soon!"
“--RYAN! HELP!” A disgruntled Sharpay called out as she burst through the entrance, the hem off her white coat stuck to her left boot’s zipper.
“God, be a little bit more discreet, why don’t you.” Ryan sighed as he rushed up to her, grunting as he tugged at the wooly hem until it began to unfurl. "The next time you have technical difficulties, don't go around shouting for your entourage," He hissed, "We can't exactly afford to let anyone see a less than stellar performance--that defeats the purpose of my job."
"Oh shove it." She waved him off as she approached the table, "It's not like it'll be your face on tomorrow's tabloids, God, do you think they'll notice my huge zit--oh my God, Hi Troy!"
Ryan looked at Troy pitifully--yep, this was definitely going to be a long, long night.
Yeah, yeah, it ain't one of my best but I had fun doing the graphics. XD
RATING: R18
PAIRING: Troy/Ryan-their non-existent tandem on-screen blew my mind away.
SUMMARY:
WARNING: Gay Disney-if you say nay to thwarted childhood stereotypes then I suggest you close this window. Trust me, this won’t be your cup of tea.
GENRE: Light Romance/Slight(ly Unwanted) Humour CRACK!
WHY NOT CHAD/RYAN? Simply because I don’t thrive on sadism-it’s like, two rocks drooling on each other. So okay, maybe a little bit of Chad and Ryan because they’re just too cute to ignore.
As told by i_l0ve_my_az:
NBA superstar Troy Bolton had everything going for him: looks, talent, money and a wonderful girlfriend--that is until Gabriella decides to break off their engagement. Sharpay Evans is on the cusp of Hollywood superstardom, but she needs that extra something to separate her from the rest of the pack. A whirlwind romance between Troy and Sharpay is just what both their careers need. While they are hounded by the paparazzi and all the pitfalls of fame, Troy finds himself strangely drawn to Ryan, Sharpay's brother and publicist. Will the succeeding media frenzy be enough to boost Troy and Sharpay's flagging media cred?
PART 1
When Ryan reluctantly crawled out of his generic Martha Stewart brand salmon-coloured comforter, he knew instantly that it was a quarter past two o' clock PM (call it a hunch for the lack of a better term). Letting out a muffled groan, he attempted to disentangle himself from the offending cotton fabric wrapped around slinkily on his jaunty hips.
He made a mental note of making a quick trip to Ikea next week, most definitely before dropping by the local deli to pick up Sharpay's pasramis--that and to never again crawl into bed at five AM after bouts of animalistic partying, mixing gin tonics with cranberry vodka, and downing an entire bottle of Xanax (more like two pills tops).
“RYAN!” Exclaimed a flurry of fuchsia and blue boas, shiny blonde hair, glittering crystal Swarovski embellishments, and blinding flash of bright white enamels obscenely bleached to perfection (bursting uninvited, mind)--yep, definitely straight out of a Grade B, low-budget sixties horror movie.
“Oh Lordy, too early to be dealing with you.” He muttered as he dove right into a mountainous pile of pillows.
"Ryan," the creature decked in pink whined as she tried to unearth Ryan from underneath the valley of comfortable cotton fabric, "There's something important I need to show you about Troy Bolton!"
“Leave me alone, fiend, you’re too shiny.”
Brandishing her newly painted claws, she grabbed the neckline of his mangy cotton shirt and forced him to sit upright, “Listen to me you little shit, in case you've forgetten--or haven't gotten it past your thick skull--you are in my payroll ergo, I am your employer and you are my employee. It is your job--no, duty, obviously, to cater to my every whim."
"God, you're such a bitch." He huffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "It's not as if I don't get any work done--I am, after all, responsible for the last three roles you've landed. Where's my effing Macchiato? You know I can't think without my non-fat Macchiato venti from Starbucks."
“Up your ass ducky,” She smacked him upside in the head with a copy of People Magazine, "Shut up and turn to page forty-three."
"You know princess," He smirked at her as she handed him a cup of piping hot black coffee and three Splenda packets, "this idea of yours isn't half as bad as I thought it would be--hell, it's actually pretty decent."
“Of course.” She flipped her hair haughtily.
"Yeah, yeah, you've always been the smarter twin." He emptied the last packet of condiment into his drink before heaving out a dramatic sigh, "Oh why, why did I have to be the prettier one?"
"So, how're things?" Chad asked hesitantly as Troy faked a pass and proceeded to dunk in front of him in all his testosterone-laden glory.
“Huh?” Troy frowned, wiping sweat trickling down his temples, secretly not wanting to be caught off-guard just in case a stray paparazzi chanced upon him playing one-on-one at such an exclusive suburban neighbourhood.
“Since, you know, you and Gabi called it quits.” He dribbled the ball lazily and attempted a three pointer (and failing miserably), “Fuck, bad shot.”
“Oh.” Troy picked the ball from under the ring, “I don’t know, a bit strange I guess. It’s been a long time since I’ve last been single.”
Chad made a move to steal the ball, “You don’t seem bothered.”
“Well, I guess I’ve seen it coming.” Troy shrugged as he held the ball close to his chest, “We both led separate lives and compromising’s a bitch. I loved her but I guess I didn’t love her enough to marry her.”
“Ouch.” Chad ran a hand through his hair as he watched the ball go past the hoop smoothly.
“Nah, she called me up last week to thank me.” Troy grabbed the ball and passed it straight to Chad, “Said she figured out what was wrong, how there was this certain conflict of interest between us-she didn’t say what though but she did say she was seeing someone from the Air Force.”
Troy neglected to mention that she told him flat-out that unlike him--Ted--yeah, that was his name, found it very strange that Troy liked to fuck her from behind.
“You know what I think?” Chad released the ball from his grip and pumped his fist in the air as it went through the net, “I think you need to have a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. You’re a bachelor now and the first thing you have to do is to drown the remnants of your last relationship in the sink and venture to more risqué conquests.”
“Risqué conquests, huh.” Troy let out a derisive snort.
"Yeah man, like, you need to get your head back in the game, Captain ball," Chad smirked at the rather skeptical expression Troy was currently sporting, "Come on man, show them what you've got! Come with me this weekend, let's have fun at Koi with a couple of friends and dance the night out at Fuse! Convincing, huh?”
Troy rolled his eyes, "Yeah, very convincing."
“Eliza Bynes? Yes, yes, this is Ryan Evans, Sharpay Evans’ publicist, thank you so very much for returning my call. I’ve been meaning to grab a hold of you for the past few weeks already but yeah, I know you’re busy. Ugh yeah, I can so sympathize I mean, I know I’m just handling one rising star but she’s been a handful now since her career skyrocketed but of course, nothing compares to your work, you are handling four powerhouse celebrities after all, I’d be surprised if you’re able to get the recommended eight hours of sleep.
“Oh my, I don’t think I can handle that. God, I’d probably kill her if she decides to venture into music-I mean, you do know how hard it is to get there, right? I mean, God, I’m such a skeeze, of course you do but I’m sure you can’t help but agree when I say that the music industry’s a different story. It’s all dirty business, how they have specifications and how everything there is sort of a gamble. You have to be cookie-cutter to fit the mold and you know, contact building’s a bitch especially if you’re a freelance publicist.
“Oh right, right, no, no, of course not, I’m just trying to set up a meeting between Troy Bolton and my charge. Well, not really set up per se seeing as the date had been set by a mutual friend of ours. Well actually, we’ve known Troy way back in High School. Yeah, we sort of went to the same school, East High. Yup! Small, small world indeed.
“So yeah, this mutual friend of ours, well, I think you know him, Chad Danforth-he owns danceforth studios-yeah, he's a star in his own right but for all it's worth, I taught the kid how to dance. Right, yeah! He is Troy’s best friend!
"Yeah, well, we’re all going out to Koi for Dinner tomorrow night and I’d love to invite you over. Oh no, nothing too heavy but we really do have to talk business--I have a little proposal of my own that might get Troy back on track.
“--Not that I’m saying he’s losing his touch or anything but I heard from random sources that Calvin Klein isn't renewing their contract with him--what a pity, he looked smokin' hot donning their briefs. Yeah, you know how, before you turn left to Rodeo drive, you'd see his huge billboard? I usually take that route instead of the easier one from where we live just so I could see his half-naked form.
“So, do you think you can make it? What? You Can't? Are you sure? Oh, you have a prior commitment? Well, okay, I'd be a bit uncomfortable discussing things with you in public but here it goes, well, in a nutshell, my plan is relatively simple and it's to get my girl to date your boy. He came from a tragic breakup, she's the new media darling--hey, hey! They'll be the next TomKat!"
“Look dude, they’re going to show up, I swear. I know these guys and they might be a little bit over the top but they get things going.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Troy grumbled as he stabbed the baby tomato right in front of him with his salad fork, “Some blind date this one’s turning out.”
It wasn't apocalypse or anything, probably a minute or two past nine, more than an hour since their supposed dates were to arrive but--hell, who was he kidding?
Man, they sure did make bad first impressions--that's for sure.
Troy just hated having to wait for anything. Yes, it was pretty much bad diva behaviour and he's quite sure he's been told off for more than a hundred times already by his agent and team mates but it didn't change the fact that it was still quite a rational request.
Well, to him, anyway--what was the point of having to wait for anything when it was possible for the aforementioned to arrive promptly?
That's just sheer bullshit, in his honest opinion.
It's no secret that Troy's spent a good decade or so being one of the top endorsers, having created a niche for himself. He was an A-list celebrity-athlete who knew the advantage of focus, discipline, and promptness; Even on his prime, (soon-to-decline), he hasn't stopped applying the very values that had brought him to his current position (Hollywood, tabloid-fodder-wise).
It was just--
“--S'about time, that's what I think!” Chad pushed his chair backwards with a halting screech as he made a move to stand.
Yeah, it's about time. Troy craned his neck with a blatant scowl writ on his face.
"Over here!" Chad waves his arms about enthusiastically for the blond, by the entrance, to notice.
Said blonde (in skin-tight denim jeans, leather boots, and dove-grey overcoat) seemed to have caught on to the (rather) vivid (and embarrassing) display of gesticulations.
Everyone's eyes were on him, and By God, he knew.
How could he not? The guy shimied like there was no tomorrow, hips rolling like as if he owned the entire world--he looked so polished, so cultured, and just so sexy that it was near impossible for anyone to peg him as an outsider to Hollywood.
Troy sighed contentedly, this night was starting to have potential.
“Surprise, surprise!”
Ryan dropped his Louis Vuitton speedy monogram on the empty seat across Troy. Truth be told, He really wasn't one for Louis Vuittons. Yeah, he loved designer handbags, man purses, wallets, and leather goods--(Balenciaga as one of his top picks) but the Louis Vuitton brand always appeared too tacky and desperate to him--and they stank heavily of the noveau-riche.
But! Rachel Zoe did tell him last week that after Chanel's quilted creations from last season tanked, the Louis Vuittons were back in season and that, for the moment, they were currently the shit of all bags.
"God, it's freezing." He rubbed his mitten-less palms together. "Hey Troy, I haven't seen you in like forever."
Troy stared at him, seemingly dumbfounded and definitely speechless.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Ryan laughed awkwardly as he checked his Philip Stein watch, “God, does it actually take more than ten minutes for the paparazzi to snap a picture? How embarrassing, to think she wore that top twice already.”
"Please speak in English." Chad glared half-heartedly at Ryan, "What took you so long?--'I'll see you at eight PM sharp, Chad, don't be late,'" He voiced in a falsetto, "eight PM indeed."
"What crawled up your ass and died," Ryan smirked at him, "We just saw each other this afternoon, I didn't think you'd miss me that soon!"
“--RYAN! HELP!” A disgruntled Sharpay called out as she burst through the entrance, the hem off her white coat stuck to her left boot’s zipper.
“God, be a little bit more discreet, why don’t you.” Ryan sighed as he rushed up to her, grunting as he tugged at the wooly hem until it began to unfurl. "The next time you have technical difficulties, don't go around shouting for your entourage," He hissed, "We can't exactly afford to let anyone see a less than stellar performance--that defeats the purpose of my job."
"Oh shove it." She waved him off as she approached the table, "It's not like it'll be your face on tomorrow's tabloids, God, do you think they'll notice my huge zit--oh my God, Hi Troy!"
Ryan looked at Troy pitifully--yep, this was definitely going to be a long, long night.
Yeah, yeah, it ain't one of my best but I had fun doing the graphics. XD