(Untitled)

[focusoutof]

The mirror is cool against his flushed forehead. He leans forward, pressing his skull against the glass, hard, harder, until the sharp bam, bam, bam of pain behind his eyeballs dulls ever so slightly. Breathe. In. Out

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[depper]

"Thought I'd find you here!" Johnny says. "I tried your cell a couple of times, figured you were here working and didn't want to be disturbed." He grins. Astin is always working, and he never wants to be disturbed whether he's working or not; and even if he did, in a rare unguarded moment, want to be disturbed, he'd never admit. And he'd certainly never turn on the ringer on his phone.

He's usually good about checking the messages and responding right away, though. So when he didn't, Johnny headed straight for the studio.

"You need a break." Johnny's decided this already. Decided not to mention that Astin was supposed to meet him two hours ago; he doesn't think he could take the self-beration in Astin's eyes, the apology from his mouth. Good old Astin. Johnny fucking loves him. "Come with me for a drink, and then we'll come back to tackle this a fresh eye. Savvy?" He drapes his arm casually across Astin's shoulders.

[focusoutof]

It's impossible to speak when Johnny's speaking, because Johnny never allows enough space for someone else to do just that. The weak 'er, um, wait, no' protests are lost in Astin's throat, barely making it past the first stage into becoming actual words.

His temples flare with heat, the littlest reminder that the whole damn thing could blow at any moment. Boom, and that's all she wrote, sucker. He closes his eyes briefly, attempts to move away from Johnny slightly because, hey, personal space is your friend. Johnny has no concept of personal space. Johnny reels Astin back in. His arm sticks to the sweaty skin on the back of Astin's neck. He doesn't seem to notice, though. He probably wouldn't say anything if he did, Astin thinks.

He shrugs and looks sideways and up at Johnny, attempting the half-annoyed, half-amused smile that he gives the man at least a dozen times every day. "Yeah, okay. Sure."

[depper]

"Great," Johnny enthuses, his hand lifting off Astin's shoulder just at the fingers, palm still flush, pat pat. Physical contact is good for the human soul, and as Johnny is one of the few people Astin will allow it with, he considers it his privilege and his responsibility to help Astin feel connected.

He just wishes Astin would enjoy it a little more. Allow himself ease, if not outright pleasure.

"Walk or drive?" he asks. Their regular hangout is only a few blocks away, but it's fucking hot today. Johnny remembers when he used to walk everywhere. Walked around the whole fucking world, practically. He gazes off, smiling fondly into memory; then gives Astin's shoulder a squeeze and lets go as daylight and Valley heat hits them full on. "Your choice, man."

[focusoutof]

Astin thinks of being confined in a small space with Johnny, in Johnny's death trap of a car, with Johnny driving (if you can even call it that), and answers promptly, without hesitation, "Let's walk."

He turns, reaching up to tug his baseball cap further over his eyes, and almost runs head on into a large man with a cardboard box, wires spilling out of the side, in his arms. The man scowls at Astin as he walks around them, as if to say, 'the fuck are you doing here?', while practically elbowing Astin out of the way. Looking down at his sneakers, Astin grumbles an apology, pressing himself against the side of the building and waiting for Johnny to continue.

[depper]

Johnny starts to open his mouth, not sure of his words but sure he's going to say something to Paul; but Astin - the way he's holding himself, the way he's asking for invisibility - stops him. Johnny's still going to say something to Paul, absolutely. But later. Privately.

Johnny puts his arm around Astin again, pulling him away from the wall he's trying to meld into and back to humanity. He wishes Astin wouldn't do that invisible thing. Wishes Astin would look at himself and see how beautiful he is, how much he deserves to be seen. But you just can't talk to Astin about such things.

There's not much you can talk to him about. But there is one thing, Johnny knows: "I wanted to bend your ear a little about the new film." He feels the shift in Astin beside him, out of one tension and into another, and at least this tension is tinged with a little excitement.

[focusoutof]

Click, and Astin's head swivels on his neck, his eyes wide and alert. Magic words, indeed. "Yeah?" His hands at his sides relax along with the rest of his body. He doesn't even mind Johnny's arm around him once more, though he can smell that individual smell that Johnny always carries around him like his own personal raincloud: a mixture of opium and oranges. It tickles Astin's nose and pallet as he breathes it in, which he does quite often. "What about it?"

[depper]

Split second decision, Johnny goes on instinct, goes for it: "This producer we're working with this time. Ian McKellen." Lets go physcially now that Astin's really with him. Taps out a cig, lets it dangle from the corner of his mouth as he fishes for his lighter. "Know anything about him?" Fishing, yeah, to see what Astin knows, what Astin thinks Johnny knows, most importantly what Astin wants to know.

[focusoutof]

Astin shakes his head, brow furrowing. "Not much. I've never worked with him," he replies, giving Johnny's cigarette a fleeting glance. "English. Big-line producer. Everyone pretty much tiptoes around him, bending over to kiss his ass, am I right?"

[depper]

"You, sir, are correct," Johnny confirms. Astin didn't mention anything about McKellen being Nic's uncle, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know; it might just means it's a personal relationship rather than a professional, and therefore (in Astin's world) irrelevant.

There'll be time to explore all that later. Out of the studio, where the walls always start to close in in the final hours, some of the pressure has lifted off Astin and Johnny can see the confidence coming back in his eyes, the wheels turning behind them: let's go. He'd like to let Astin bask in this for a little longer; but Astin's not a child or a mental patient, he's an adult and a colleague. So Johnny treats him like one

[focusoutof]

"Hmm." Astin frowns slightly, his hands fidgeting and wiggling their way inside of his jean pockets. Lint and loose change litter the bottoms, and he picks at them idly, rolling Johnny's words over in his head. He can feel Johnny's gaze (it's like when Astin's opinion is needed on a certain camera tilt, or, hey, man, do you think there's too much light on them?, think we should dim it a bit?, thanks, man, you know I love you, right?...) on the side of his face, just as he can feel the sun beating down atop of his covered head and his shoulders.

Slap, slap, slap go Astin's sneakers and Johnny's flip-flops on the concrete. They walk in unison until Astin looks down, notices, and slows down unintentionally, fucking up their rhythm. He smiles to himself when Johnny starts slightly, looking down at his feet as if he did something wrong.

"What's he plan to do?" Astin asks, jumping back on subject. He rubs two coins (dimes? pennies?) together in his pocket. "Just watch?"

[depper]

"Yeah," Johnny says. Who the fuck knows, maybe the old man wants to direct the picture himself, though that doesn't fit with what Johnny remembers hearing about him, or his impression from their one meeting; maybe he wants a blowjob from every pretty boy on the set - maybe that's why he doesn't what his nephew there. Who the fuck knows. "Yeah, man," Johnny says again, flicks some ash into the street as they cross to the bar on the other corner, "that's what I fuckin' hope!" Flashes Astin a grin, we're-in-this-together, everything-is-grand. "First time working with us, so he probably just wants to see the masters in action." Grin, big grin, over the top and he knows it. "We'll give him an eyeful that first day, send him home satisfied. It'll be," slight pause, furtive glance to see Astin mouthing it along with him, and Johnny suppresses a grin for Astin's eyeroll, "great."

[focusoutof]

"Yeah, yeah..." They pause outside of the bar as Johnny takes a last, lingering drag from his cigarette before flicking it to the side. They reach for the door at the same time, but Astin gets there first, grasping the handle and pulling it open. Johnny always makes the best entrance, no matter where, what, how how, what with his cool confidence which matches his broad grin. And Astin's more than happy to give it to him. He also gives another amused roll of the eyes when Johnny winks at him as he walks past into the dimly lit confines of the building, only to stop and wait just inside for Astin to catch up.

Clinking of glass and hushed conversation instantly surrounds them, and when Astin speaks, his voice is pitched even lower than his normal speaking voice. "So what's the big deal? He's paying for it. He should be allowed to watch if he wants to."

[depper]

Johnny leans his elbows on the bar, turns his head to grin at Astin, "No big deal, man," then signals the barkeep. "Dos Equiis, and." Again he turns, this time to raise an eyebrow at Astin. "You having a beer, or are you on the Pepper?"

[focusoutof]

Blink. Chuckle. Smile. You fuck, Astin almost says. Instead it's, "Beer. Just, um." He sits back on the barstool, making it squeak beneath him as he reached up and pulls his hat off of his head. He runs his fingers distractedly through his flat hair while he surveys the numerous bottles and glasses behind the barkeep. No need to, however. Same old thing. "Regular Bud, please." The hat goes on the bar between Johnny and him, and so his head feels unreasonably naked. Folding his hands in front of him, Astin turns to Johnny, eyebrows raised. "So. The movie?"