Say It Right (RPS, Gale/Randy)
Holy shit...so yeah. Please don't think me sick and if you do blame wouldbedorothy! She started it. I am a bad bad person....
Disclaimer: I neither know nor own Gale or Randy. Nor any of the other peoples. This is NOT real. It is fiction based on an overactive imagination and lots of QAF viewing. None of the events in this story have happened. Thank you for your time!
Title: Say It Right (1/?)
Author: freakykat
Pairing: Gale/Randy...in the end
Rating: R
Series/Sequel: Part 1
Summary: Sometimes saying the right words is the hardest thing to do.
Warnings: m/m sex, if you don't like that kind of thing, away with you. If you do, enjoy! Some language, quite a bit of angst, illness.
Author's Notes: This idea came to me while listening to Madonna's Live to Tell which is random I know but the truth lol. Thanks to plumduff for beta'ing and her encouragement!
Say It Right (1/?)
These are the times
I wanna crawl in a hole ~ AHS
Avoidance was your best quality it seemed. People, emotions, commitments, truths…you were an expert at dodging what you never wanted to deal with. You would shrug, lopsided smile plastered on your face, answering in cryptic analogies so that eventually all questions you refused to acknowledge stopped.
It was that particular feature of your personality that had caused you to walk away from the limelight, keeping close enough to the fringe that you could never be forgotten, your shadow bearing down on the world you lived in but never quite joining.
It suited you, this existence, you’d told yourself when the doubts and yearning would overcome you. You needed it. To be alone…to live the life you chose without questions or accusations being flung about. You know you would have stayed that way…living in quiet desperation, behind the wall of lies you used for protection.
If you weren’t dying.
Leave it to a bout with fucking cancer to force the truth from underneath the denial that clings around you.
You smile , thinking that Brian would be pointing his finger and laughing right this moment.. It serves you right for having fought so hard to get that story through. Randy had warned you there would be repercussions.
You’re pretty sure this isn’t what he had in mind.
The warm hand that falls on your shoulder, tracing a small circle on your jacket, pulls you from the thoughts tumbling inside. You turn your head, staring into blue eyes and smiling gratefully. “Hey.”
Neil smiles back, leaning his head to the side, no doubt studying your face for reactions…some form of emotion. “You okay?”
You shake your head, deep rumble of a laugh escaping your chest. “Am I okay? Not really, no.”
“You’re doing the right thing Gale.”
“Am I really?”
Your eyes meet his and you know that Neil’s right. As selfish and cruel as it might be, you need to do this.
For your sake.
For Randy‘s.
You have spent nearly 8 years lying to him, to yourself. He deserves the truth. You deserve the right to tell him. To know that if you didn’t survive this shit that was eating you alive, or the poison that they were using to kill it, he would know.
The lights in the theater flicker indicating that the performance is about to start and you reach into your pocket to silence your phone. From your peripheral you see Neil do the same. He catches your eye, and winks, hand reaching to squeeze yours. You return the pressure and then you’re plunged into darkness. Hushed whispers are the only sound there is and the curtain rises, silencing even that noise. You feel the knots tighten as time unfurls. You know when his cue occurs and you hold your breath, eyes transfixed on the golden aura that transforms the stage when he steps into view. You’re caught in it, watching his face change emotions with ease and grace, his voice booming, his presence owning that stage…owning you like it always has.
Still does.
His performance is flawless, rich, all-encompassing and when his final scene takes place, you feel a few hot tears slide down your cheek. You wipe at them, watching the final moments, that without him seem less important, less meaningful. There is a tug in your chest as the curtain falls and you stand with the crowd to give a standing ovation. The two ladies sitting next to you smile in recognition, making your teeth grind. It is the reason you rarely show up to these events. The fear that you would be hounded and stalked.
Randy walks out and the crowd roars, your voice joining in earnest , hands clapping until they’re red. Neil whoops with true admiration and you say, without taking your eyes away from the stage, “He’s fucking amazing, isn’t he?”
“He was unbelievable, I agree.” You feel his glance. “Almost as good as you.”
Your guffaw turns a few heads and you glance over at Neil, feel a smirk playing on your lips. “Bullshit but thank you for that.”
He narrows his eyes, shaking his head as he looks back toward the front. “ Believe me, Gale, you’re one good actor. You’ve had to be.”
You let the remark slide by and resume clapping as the entire cast comes out for a final bow . The curtains fall, lights increasing with intensity, your cue to do what you have come here to do.
“I’m sorry to bother you.”
You sigh quietly, turn with a ready smile to the older woman that has approached you. Your brow pulls up in a quirk you seem to have inherited from Brian and she laughs a little, recognizing the patented move.
“That’s very good. I just wanted to say that I think it’s wonderful that you came out to support a friend. Speaks very highly of you and him.” She smiles sweetly, taking her coat in hand as she turns to leave.
You find your voice then. “Thank you.”
She glances back, waves and continues out of the theatre. Sometimes they manage to surprise you.
You stand there for a long moment, watching the crowd disperse, filing out quietly into the cold winter night. You want to follow, disappear in the streets, avoid what you have to do, the questions that will come, the anger you know will take over.
“Are you playing that panda game again?”
You turn around, having forgotten momentarily about Neil, confused by his question. “Panda game?”
“You know, “ he says, arms shoving into his coat , “if you stand still enough, maybe no one will see you.”
You smile and shove his shoulder lightly. “Smartass. And for pandas, its more of an if I don’t see you, you don’t really exist kind of thing.”
He shakes his head. “How the fuck do you…never mind. Just remember, even if you don’t see him, he still exists.” His phone vibrates loudly in the silence and he checks the Caller ID, his bright smile telling you it was David calling. “I should take this. The stage manager said you could go on back, no problem. They know to let you through. Don’t wait too long or he’ll be gone.” He answers the phone, speaking softly for a few moments before he looks at you. You hear his soft “Hold on a minute, David.” before he walks over, hugs you tightly and whispers, “Good luck.” You return the embrace then feel his hand push you toward the stage door. “Now go.” He turns without glancing back, and you know it is time.
Forcing movement of your body, you head to the appropriate door, opening it carefully, and stepping through quickly. There is the normal skittering of people backstage. The hands that are cleaning up, setting up for the next night’s show. Actors hurrying home to family or an empty apartment. Young kids with clipboards skirting around you on their way to who knows where.
Someone clears their throat and you glance back, watching the young girl’s face register recognition at your face. You smile politely, opening your mouth to ask where you could find…
“Mr. Harrison is in his dressing room. I’ll take you over.” She struts ahead and you follow blindly, your mind and heart racing the closer your steps bring you to him. She pauses at a plain brown door, adorned with a simple silver plate, the words R. Harrison in bold black letters. She knocks and your hear a muffled, “Yes?”
“Randy, someone here for you.”
“Oh. Um…let him in. Thanks.”
She gestures to the door, smiling gently as she walks away. You eye her as she leaves, wondering if you have suddenly become transparent. You have spent years, a lifetime, honing your skills as an actor. In and out of characters. It seems that the only time or place it did no good was when you needed it to. Like now. Like with him. He has always been your weakness, this time is no different.
You knock once more, ingrained Southern manners not allowing you to enter without a warning. You push gently, the creak that follows the door opening loud in your ears. You slip through quickly, closing it softly behind you. Your eyes fall over the room, a smile crossing your face. It is so Randy. Books strewn over every surface, clothes thrown over chairs, his couch…one dressing table covered in CDs and what looks like scripts for whatever genius project he may be a part of next.
Pictures line the second table, and you recognize one in particular. It’s the same one on your own desk at home. It is a framed photo of the two of you taken at the Queer’s first season wrap party. You remember arguing about the show, where Brian and Justin were headed, the writing and finally, exasperated, knowing you could never win against him, you’d kissed Randy to shut him up. One of those quick pecks that had been such a part of your relationship back then, before fear, denial and the world had interfered. Randy had thrown his head back with laughter and your face had fallen into the crook of his neck. Peter had snapped the shot. You still don’t know how that one hadn’t ended up on the internet and then send a silent a prayer of thanks for that.
Your eyes linger on it, heart thumping so loudly you can hear it clearly. There’s a shuffle and you jerk around, staring at the screen where you know he’s changing. Your eyes close, pushing away thoughts of alabaster skin. Images of his hands entwined with yours, rough kisses, limbs clashing in a struggle for control…You make a noise, as much for his sake as for your own. You hear his sigh, voice tinged with annoyance fills the room. “I told you I would talk to you later. There was no need to come here.”
You blink in confusion and he continues. “I still have some things to catch up on. Just meet me at home.”
You dislodge the lump in your throat and reply. “I would but I don’t know where the hell you live, Rands.”
There’s a clear gasp and you hear the scrambling of clothes being thrown on and seconds later he appears around the corner, wide blue eyes and famous thousand watt smile aimed at you. He blinks repeatedly, trying to gauge if you’re real.
He’s so close, mere feet away and the impulse to hold him becomes too much. Overwhelms you, making the promises you’d made to stay detached fly out the window. You close the distance, pulling his body to yours, breathing him in. His arms wrap around you and his lips whisper a greeting.
“Hi Gale.”
You don’t whether to cry or laugh. Just like always. So you do the only thing you can at that moment. You tighten your grip on him and press your lips to his ear.
“Hi Rands.”
| 2|
*******
Yeah...I am a bad person...damn this writing thing...damn it!!!!
*evil grin*
Disclaimer: I neither know nor own Gale or Randy. Nor any of the other peoples. This is NOT real. It is fiction based on an overactive imagination and lots of QAF viewing. None of the events in this story have happened. Thank you for your time!
Title: Say It Right (1/?)
Author: freakykat
Pairing: Gale/Randy...in the end
Rating: R
Series/Sequel: Part 1
Summary: Sometimes saying the right words is the hardest thing to do.
Warnings: m/m sex, if you don't like that kind of thing, away with you. If you do, enjoy! Some language, quite a bit of angst, illness.
Author's Notes: This idea came to me while listening to Madonna's Live to Tell which is random I know but the truth lol. Thanks to plumduff for beta'ing and her encouragement!
Say It Right (1/?)
These are the times
I wanna crawl in a hole ~ AHS
Avoidance was your best quality it seemed. People, emotions, commitments, truths…you were an expert at dodging what you never wanted to deal with. You would shrug, lopsided smile plastered on your face, answering in cryptic analogies so that eventually all questions you refused to acknowledge stopped.
It was that particular feature of your personality that had caused you to walk away from the limelight, keeping close enough to the fringe that you could never be forgotten, your shadow bearing down on the world you lived in but never quite joining.
It suited you, this existence, you’d told yourself when the doubts and yearning would overcome you. You needed it. To be alone…to live the life you chose without questions or accusations being flung about. You know you would have stayed that way…living in quiet desperation, behind the wall of lies you used for protection.
If you weren’t dying.
Leave it to a bout with fucking cancer to force the truth from underneath the denial that clings around you.
You smile , thinking that Brian would be pointing his finger and laughing right this moment.. It serves you right for having fought so hard to get that story through. Randy had warned you there would be repercussions.
You’re pretty sure this isn’t what he had in mind.
The warm hand that falls on your shoulder, tracing a small circle on your jacket, pulls you from the thoughts tumbling inside. You turn your head, staring into blue eyes and smiling gratefully. “Hey.”
Neil smiles back, leaning his head to the side, no doubt studying your face for reactions…some form of emotion. “You okay?”
You shake your head, deep rumble of a laugh escaping your chest. “Am I okay? Not really, no.”
“You’re doing the right thing Gale.”
“Am I really?”
Your eyes meet his and you know that Neil’s right. As selfish and cruel as it might be, you need to do this.
For your sake.
For Randy‘s.
You have spent nearly 8 years lying to him, to yourself. He deserves the truth. You deserve the right to tell him. To know that if you didn’t survive this shit that was eating you alive, or the poison that they were using to kill it, he would know.
The lights in the theater flicker indicating that the performance is about to start and you reach into your pocket to silence your phone. From your peripheral you see Neil do the same. He catches your eye, and winks, hand reaching to squeeze yours. You return the pressure and then you’re plunged into darkness. Hushed whispers are the only sound there is and the curtain rises, silencing even that noise. You feel the knots tighten as time unfurls. You know when his cue occurs and you hold your breath, eyes transfixed on the golden aura that transforms the stage when he steps into view. You’re caught in it, watching his face change emotions with ease and grace, his voice booming, his presence owning that stage…owning you like it always has.
Still does.
His performance is flawless, rich, all-encompassing and when his final scene takes place, you feel a few hot tears slide down your cheek. You wipe at them, watching the final moments, that without him seem less important, less meaningful. There is a tug in your chest as the curtain falls and you stand with the crowd to give a standing ovation. The two ladies sitting next to you smile in recognition, making your teeth grind. It is the reason you rarely show up to these events. The fear that you would be hounded and stalked.
Randy walks out and the crowd roars, your voice joining in earnest , hands clapping until they’re red. Neil whoops with true admiration and you say, without taking your eyes away from the stage, “He’s fucking amazing, isn’t he?”
“He was unbelievable, I agree.” You feel his glance. “Almost as good as you.”
Your guffaw turns a few heads and you glance over at Neil, feel a smirk playing on your lips. “Bullshit but thank you for that.”
He narrows his eyes, shaking his head as he looks back toward the front. “ Believe me, Gale, you’re one good actor. You’ve had to be.”
You let the remark slide by and resume clapping as the entire cast comes out for a final bow . The curtains fall, lights increasing with intensity, your cue to do what you have come here to do.
“I’m sorry to bother you.”
You sigh quietly, turn with a ready smile to the older woman that has approached you. Your brow pulls up in a quirk you seem to have inherited from Brian and she laughs a little, recognizing the patented move.
“That’s very good. I just wanted to say that I think it’s wonderful that you came out to support a friend. Speaks very highly of you and him.” She smiles sweetly, taking her coat in hand as she turns to leave.
You find your voice then. “Thank you.”
She glances back, waves and continues out of the theatre. Sometimes they manage to surprise you.
You stand there for a long moment, watching the crowd disperse, filing out quietly into the cold winter night. You want to follow, disappear in the streets, avoid what you have to do, the questions that will come, the anger you know will take over.
“Are you playing that panda game again?”
You turn around, having forgotten momentarily about Neil, confused by his question. “Panda game?”
“You know, “ he says, arms shoving into his coat , “if you stand still enough, maybe no one will see you.”
You smile and shove his shoulder lightly. “Smartass. And for pandas, its more of an if I don’t see you, you don’t really exist kind of thing.”
He shakes his head. “How the fuck do you…never mind. Just remember, even if you don’t see him, he still exists.” His phone vibrates loudly in the silence and he checks the Caller ID, his bright smile telling you it was David calling. “I should take this. The stage manager said you could go on back, no problem. They know to let you through. Don’t wait too long or he’ll be gone.” He answers the phone, speaking softly for a few moments before he looks at you. You hear his soft “Hold on a minute, David.” before he walks over, hugs you tightly and whispers, “Good luck.” You return the embrace then feel his hand push you toward the stage door. “Now go.” He turns without glancing back, and you know it is time.
Forcing movement of your body, you head to the appropriate door, opening it carefully, and stepping through quickly. There is the normal skittering of people backstage. The hands that are cleaning up, setting up for the next night’s show. Actors hurrying home to family or an empty apartment. Young kids with clipboards skirting around you on their way to who knows where.
Someone clears their throat and you glance back, watching the young girl’s face register recognition at your face. You smile politely, opening your mouth to ask where you could find…
“Mr. Harrison is in his dressing room. I’ll take you over.” She struts ahead and you follow blindly, your mind and heart racing the closer your steps bring you to him. She pauses at a plain brown door, adorned with a simple silver plate, the words R. Harrison in bold black letters. She knocks and your hear a muffled, “Yes?”
“Randy, someone here for you.”
“Oh. Um…let him in. Thanks.”
She gestures to the door, smiling gently as she walks away. You eye her as she leaves, wondering if you have suddenly become transparent. You have spent years, a lifetime, honing your skills as an actor. In and out of characters. It seems that the only time or place it did no good was when you needed it to. Like now. Like with him. He has always been your weakness, this time is no different.
You knock once more, ingrained Southern manners not allowing you to enter without a warning. You push gently, the creak that follows the door opening loud in your ears. You slip through quickly, closing it softly behind you. Your eyes fall over the room, a smile crossing your face. It is so Randy. Books strewn over every surface, clothes thrown over chairs, his couch…one dressing table covered in CDs and what looks like scripts for whatever genius project he may be a part of next.
Pictures line the second table, and you recognize one in particular. It’s the same one on your own desk at home. It is a framed photo of the two of you taken at the Queer’s first season wrap party. You remember arguing about the show, where Brian and Justin were headed, the writing and finally, exasperated, knowing you could never win against him, you’d kissed Randy to shut him up. One of those quick pecks that had been such a part of your relationship back then, before fear, denial and the world had interfered. Randy had thrown his head back with laughter and your face had fallen into the crook of his neck. Peter had snapped the shot. You still don’t know how that one hadn’t ended up on the internet and then send a silent a prayer of thanks for that.
Your eyes linger on it, heart thumping so loudly you can hear it clearly. There’s a shuffle and you jerk around, staring at the screen where you know he’s changing. Your eyes close, pushing away thoughts of alabaster skin. Images of his hands entwined with yours, rough kisses, limbs clashing in a struggle for control…You make a noise, as much for his sake as for your own. You hear his sigh, voice tinged with annoyance fills the room. “I told you I would talk to you later. There was no need to come here.”
You blink in confusion and he continues. “I still have some things to catch up on. Just meet me at home.”
You dislodge the lump in your throat and reply. “I would but I don’t know where the hell you live, Rands.”
There’s a clear gasp and you hear the scrambling of clothes being thrown on and seconds later he appears around the corner, wide blue eyes and famous thousand watt smile aimed at you. He blinks repeatedly, trying to gauge if you’re real.
He’s so close, mere feet away and the impulse to hold him becomes too much. Overwhelms you, making the promises you’d made to stay detached fly out the window. You close the distance, pulling his body to yours, breathing him in. His arms wrap around you and his lips whisper a greeting.
“Hi Gale.”
You don’t whether to cry or laugh. Just like always. So you do the only thing you can at that moment. You tighten your grip on him and press your lips to his ear.
“Hi Rands.”
| 2|
*******
Yeah...I am a bad person...damn this writing thing...damn it!!!!
*evil grin*