Behind The Scenes, Chapter 46/46 (CSI/CSI NY/CSI Miami, Nick / Greg, Ryan / Eric)
Title: Behind the Scenes, Chapter 46/46
Pairing: Nick Stokes / Greg Sanders,
Ryan Wolfe / Eric Delko,
Don Flack / Sheldon Hawkes
Rating: PG
Genre: AU
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Feedback: Always Welcome
Summery: Six months later. Some things have changed, some things are exactly the same.
Sequel to Soaps R Us:
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 (NC-17) Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Epilogue
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 (NC-17) Chapter 5 (NC-17) Chapter 6 (NC-17) Chapter 7 (NC-17) Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 (NC-17) Chapter 17 (NC-17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 (NC-17) Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 (NC-17) Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45
“Ryan?” Eric rubbed his head sleepily and walked into the kitchen. “Is that you or do I need to call the police?”
“It’s me.” Ryan twirled around and hid something behind his back. “I had to go to the bathroom and I… I wanted to check I unplugged the toaster.”
“We haven’t used the toaster.”
“Yeah, but it can be a fire hazard.”
“What do you have behind your back?”
“The manual for the toaster.” Ryan lied, but decided to surrender. “Okay, I was coming back from the bathroom and I wanted to read it again.” He put the few folded sheets of paper back on the counter where they had been.
“You’re a real softie, aren’t you?” Eric leaned against him and wrapped his hands on Ryan’s waist. “If you get this sentimental before the kid is even here…”
“I’m not that much of a softie, I just wanted to read it again. It still feels unbelievable. Someone’s carrying our baby and this time next year we’ll be dealing with dirty diapers.”
“And they’re all yours.” Eric slid his hands under the waistband of Ryan’s boxers. “I’ll be the funny-daddy, and you’ll be the mummy-daddy.”
“You’ll change diapers, and you’ll like it, or I’ll sic your sisters on you.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?”
“Yeah.”
“It worked…” Eric admitted and gave Ryan’s butt a squeeze. “But I draw the line at breastfeeding.”
“Don’t we all? We’re not exactly equipped for it.” Ryan reminded and pulled Eric’s hands out of his boxers, dragging him out of the kitchen. “We got months to decide who does what.”
“So back to bed?”
“Yeah.” Ryan stopped and pulled Eric into a bone crushing hug.
“Are you getting hormonal?” Eric chuckled against the man’s neck. “Like a sympathy pregnancy or something?”
“Shut up…” Ryan hummed. He took deep breaths and relaxed against Eric’s body. “I love you.”
“Love you too, baby.”
“You can’t call me that much longer.”
“Yeah, but I can still call you that before he or she gets here.”
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
“Greg? Wake up, time to go home.”
“Whhhhhaaaaaaa…” Greg groaned sleepily and latched onto the nearest thing within his reach. It turned out to be Nick’s nose, and the following yelp brought him out of his slumber. “Sorry!” He blinked several times before he manage to focus on his surroundings. Everyone was gone, and the soundstage was mostly dark, only few spotlights giving them some light. The band had left with their instruments, but the large banners and buffet tables were lined against the back wall, out of the way.
“When did everyone leave?”
“Last one left probably an hour ago.”
“And you let me sleep the whole evening?”
“I tried to wake you up, but you just mumbled something about aliens and skinny dipping in a big pile of goo.”
“Yeah, sorry… I should have eaten something before the booze.”
“At least you didn’t throw up.” Nick comforted. “How are you feeling?”
“Well rested…” Greg pushed himself up and started staggering to the direction of the buffet tables. The catering people had obviously overestimated the demand, since the tables still carried enough food to feed an entire regiment. Greg pulled a plastic cap from one of the bowls and grabbed a few taco shells. “Did I miss anything?”
“Well… Speed and Bobby dropped by, but they left early.”
“That’s nice…” Greg smashed the shells against his palm and shoved the pieces into his mouth. “Is Speed still in that “he loves me any way I am, so I’ll stuff my face till I get confused with a killer whale” phase?”
“Yeah, and I`m getting a little worried-” Nick stopped mid-sentence to grimace. “How can you eat those like that?”
“Easily. But back to Speedy: Should we do something about it?”
“He’s happy, in love and can’t fit into his old Hawaiian shirts anymore. He’s a grown man, it’s his life.”
“I guess…” Greg swallowed down the handful of dry pieces, and picked up an unopened bottle of wine. “But if the day comes, when he can’t fit through a doorframe, we’ll stage an intervention.”
“Okay.” Nick agreed. He waited a while, looking at Greg’s struggle with the cork, and finally took the bottle from him. “Let me.”
“Thanks. Anything else?”
“There was-”
“Let me clarify that first: Anything interesting I would care to know?”
“Warrick and Danny were here for a while. They took some pictures of you snoring with their cellphones and Danny said something about how easy it is now to make home videos and I think they got inspired. They left in a hurry and that was the last I saw of them.”
“Isn’t it nice everyone’s doing so well?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“I mean people I like. People I don’t like can be as miserable as they wanna be and…” He took a long gulp from the bottle and cradled the bottle in his arms like a little baby. “… and what? I don’t like them so why am I still talking about them?”
“You’re still a bit drunk?” Nick suggested with a little grin. “You want to go home now?”
“Not yet.” Greg hugged the bottle and wandered slowly past him. Most of the re-built soundstage was empty, but some of the set pieces had been already been placed in the corner, half built and looking like a kid had taken a picture and cut it to little pieces and collected them together again. Pieces of furniture was laid out haphazardly, stairs lead nowhere and the windows were missing the usual backdrops of L.A. landmarks. “Remember what this looked like?”
“Yeah.” Nick nodded. He had worked in the living room set often enough to remember exactly how it used to be, and he could see all the pieces. They weren’t together yet, but it would look the same it had always looked. “A lot of memories there.”
“I came here at night when I first started to write this.” Greg climbed clumsily over a couch and sat down on the stairs. “I’d read everything I could and I knew the characters, but it’s not the same until you sit where they sit and try to figure out what’s the right course to take.”
“You know what I thought the first time I came here?” Nick mused quietly. “How different it looks. TV glorifies everything. Then when I saw my first episode on TV it looked just the way it was supposed to. But I’ve never figured out what the deal is with the backdrops. There’s always either a bright daylight, or night. Never anything in between.”
“I know why that is…” Greg giggled and took another sip. “One of the prop guys told me. When they first built this set, they made three of those backdrops: Daylight, night-time and a really pretty red sunset. Or sunrise, depending on the situation.”
“Then why haven’t they used it?”
“Back then Willows’s character was living here. Or up there.” Greg pointed at the top of the stairs, which currently lead into a brick wall. “Anyway, the first time they tried to use it they realised something crucial.”
“It didn’t look real?”
“Do any of them look real? No, they discovered that a pasty-faced redhead in pancake makeup and bright red and orange background don’t mix. She looked two huge clown shoes short from driving a mini with ten other clowns stuffed into the trunk. They put it in storage and forgot all about it.”
“Is it still there?”
“No. Remember when there was that fire scene in the café set? They needed something to burn, so they used old crap from the storage.”
“Too bad.”
“Kinda symbolic, isn’t it? Sunset goes up in flames. Some things stay, some things go away, but nothing stays the same forever.” Greg rested his head against the cool neck of the bottle. “Maybe that’s why we got a job. People grow up or grow old watching their favourite soap and they’re imprinted for life. The umbilical cord stretches and bends and sometimes it wraps itself around your throat and turns into a big slimy snake and… Nicky?”
“What?”
“I know I’ve asked this before, but… Did I have a point or am I just drunk?”
“You’re drunk.”
“Thanks. It’s nicer to babble under the influence, when you know it doesn’t need to make sense. And don’t say it, I know I’ve said that before too. I work with words, sometimes I repeat myself.” Greg giggled and staggered up to his feet. “You know what the best part is about being here after everyone’s gone home? I can do what everyone wants to do… I mean subconsciously, and they wouldn’t admit it.” He grabbed the railing and walked up the stairs. Once he finally reached the landing he turned and spread his hands in a dramatic gesture. “We should have music… Can you call the band back here?”
“It’s two in the morning, so no. I can’t call them back.”
“This would look so much better with music… Something big and pompous… Like in that show… what was it? In the eighties, the one where they had that bitch with a big hair…?”
“Dynasty?”
“Yeah, this would look so much more dramatic with horns and a full orchestra. I come down the stairs with the music playing, the camera lingers, moves slowly from my feet to my… We can’t do crotch-shots on daytime, so we’ll skip that and then my face in a huge close-up. A loooong close up while the music reached it’s peak…” He grinned widely. “That’s how you make a real entrance in a soap. Let the audience wonder and then let them soak it all up.”
He lifted the bottle up to make a toast and grabbed the railing again to keep his balance.
“To identical twins, who just show up out of nowhere and to kids who grow up in a month and come back as adults.” He staggered a bit, but didn’t let it interrupt his toast. “To all the ridiculous plot twists, and all the scenes where people get it on in the steam room but still keep their towels on while the cameras on them… and bastard babies no one knew even existed and vindictive look-alikes and ex-wives, who want revenge for something we never even knew had happened and…”
Nick had discovered one of the CDs, that had been playing after the band had done its last set. The soft melody of the show’s theme tune wafted in the air, booming out of the loudspeakers. Greg started laughing and gave him a thrilled round of applause, almost dropping the bottle in his hand.
“Thanks! That’s what I mean. This needs music!” He lifted the bottle once again to continue his toast. “To daytime. It’s trashy, it`s tawdry, it’s absurd and it’s entertaining as hell, and we love it that way.”