fic | Last Stop Before the Promised Land [ZQ/Matt Bomer, ZQ/Chris Pine]
Ok, so trolleys asked for ZQ/Matt Bomber a few days ago, and I thought I could at least provide comment-fic since she's been drawing OMG SO AMAZING BRAD/NATE. But yeah, apparently I don't know what comment-fic is because I broke the character limit by a bit.
A word of warning, here's what I know about Matt Bomer the Person: he's very pretty and he likes to kiss boys. My knowledge of ZQ is basically limited to his bromance videos with Chris Pine. And if Chris Pine isn't that douchey, then ZQ isn't really this much of an asshole, and Matt Bomer isn't this slutty-esque (♥).
Also, un-betaed (and written mostly at 3 am). Sorry! It was suppose to be comment-fic, and I suck at finding betas quickly! :'(
Last Stop Before the Promised Land
zq/matt bomer, zq/chris pine, r, 2,300 words
*
Zachary Levi, that asshole, shows up at Marquee half an hour late and wearing an overaged twink brunette on his arm. He introduces the guy as “You remember Matt, right?” which is always bad etiquette because no one ever does.
Most days, Zach likes the other Zac just fine but not when he’s spent the lead-in of his first hiatus Friday night making small talk with “I’m an actor/actress”es. Even if he did pick the club.
Matt’s the kind of pretty that Zach remembers mostly from theater school. Zach remembers fucking a couple of them usually right after they got the big heroic lead in the school play.
Matt likes to tell dirty jokes in a charming, rolling timber, elbows slouched on the bar behind him. Zac laughs at all of them even though Matt’s used the phrase “a fucking eleven inch boner” in at least two.
It’d make more sense if Zac was gay or at least bi-curious. Zach does’t see the appeal besides the obvious. He excuses himself and heads for the bathroom.
*
Zach’s just got his zipper down when Matt walks in. There’s five empty spots, but Matt takes the one next to him. Of course.
Over the urinal wall, Matt does a slow check out of his dick and gives him a grin like the most obvious bad porno come-on ever. Zach tries not to roll his eyes.
*
It’s raining when Zach finally gets out of the club. The air’s filled with the smell of musty New York pavement and escaping subway fumes. Zach doesn’t have an umbrella with him.
The club door opens behind him, letting out a brief chorus of bad techno.
It’s Matt. The rain and the street lamps suit him even better than the glow of strobe lights. “Hey,” he says, “you want to share a cab?”
It’s been one of those nights. Zach can feel a headache coming on. He leans in close and whispers, “Despite the peacock mascot, I’m afraid ABC’s where you have to go for the ass-fucking.”
“So you’re saying you’re straight?” Matt sounds genuinely confused.
Zach’s not. Zach has a date with a nice, big cock and a pretty smile waiting for him back at his hotel room, but it’s not any of Matt’s business. He says, “I’ll leave the interpretation up to you.”
Zach takes the first cab that stops. In the rearview mirror, he sees Matt go back into the club.
*
The next morning, Zach wakes up with the worst non-hangover hangover ever. He wasn’t drinking enough to matter, but he still feels a vein pulsing at his temple: thump thump thump. Thankfully, the trick from last night is gone. It’s one of the things Zach likes most about New York; everyone knows the script and sticks to it.
On his cell, Zac’s texted, Did you leave early last night couldnt find you after you ok? Want to get lunch or something.
He was rude last night, probably abysmally so. Zach’s usually a decent friend until he gets bored. He once had an ex-boyfriend call him a “charming, selfish bastard” on the breakup voicemail.
He texts back, Sorry, I wasn’t feeling very well and cut out early, and, because he’s feeling guilty, Your friend Matt is pretty cool.
*
The hiatus always throws him off-kilter. When he’s working, he feels a lot easier about goofing off, hanging out in over-priced hotspots and trashing the locals.
During the break, he has a lot of time to think. His agent keeps feeding him scripts that’s either pretentious art house bullshit or like the guy who helps the best friend get back his girl.
He feels restless. He’s not bored with Heroes yet, but if he’s honest, at least with himself, he’s getting there. He keeps fantasizing about quitting. He gets lost in the stark finality of it.
But he wouldn’t do it.
*
He spends three weeks in New York before he needs to head home to do a script reading for Kring.
On his second to last night there, Zac takes him out with a bunch of the people from his show. Chuck’s been renewed for a full run which means they’re all getting a raise. Everyone seems to know Matt.
Matt’s quieter around them for some reason. He’s wearing a light blue Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up and belted gray slacks. Last time, he was in a t-shirt and jeans. He looks five years older, more composed.
“Sorry, I was such an asshole last time,” Zach says.
“No worries,” Matt says back and smiles. It crinkles the corners of his eyes, makes them look a little less startled, a little less blue. It’s a good look on him.
“Let me make it up to you. Buy you a drink at least.”
“But still no ass-fucking, huh?”
“Sorry,” Zach says.
*
Heroes starts filming again in August. After three months of drifting, it’s good to have a schedule again. For the first month, Zach is only late for half of his early morning shoots.
*
He gets the call to do Star Trek in December.
*
Heroes is pretty big budget, but Star Trek is big budget on a whole other level. Zach spends a lot of time rolling around full-scale sets and getting ferried back and forth in blackout curtained golf carts.
His wake-up calls get even earlier. He’s mostly good about being on time.
He gets along with almost all of his castmates. Actors are usually some pretty fun people, but Star Trek’s boy-club camaraderie (plus Zoe) is easy and unassuming. He has it on Heroes to be sure. He has good friends already, but the novelty gives it an edge.
It’s a great three months. Better than he would have predicated.
*
In Australia, Zach looks out across Sydney harbor to the Opera House where they’ve had the premier the night before. It’s early; he’s still buzzing a little from the champagne and the commotion.
But he wants to see it, just once, when the morning air still carries the crispness of dew and the only foot traffic is from the really dedicated joggers. He wants to see the familiar arches of the Opera House’s roof, precise as a postcard, and know that it’s real.
*
Zach makes it through two months of promotions and gains a new best friend. He and Chris worked well on set, but out of costume, they’re even better.
Chris is funny and charming and smart. Zach is more impressed than he thought he’d be.
*
All of the L.A. parties Zach’s been to involved a pool. This one’s no different even if it’s J.J.’s pool.
Amongst the Star Trek people is the usual Hollywood crowd. Zach watches as Lindsey Lohan introduce herself to Chris with an air kiss like they’ve never co-starred in a movie together. Chris smiles back and nods to her gushing. She keeps a finger twirling the trailing ends of her hair.
From across the pool, Chris catches Zach’s eye and loses it, body bent nearly in half in laughter. His wine class shakes precariously but doesn’t spill. Lindsey looks confused.
Chris makes his way over. His loafers make a tapping sound against the poolside tile. He says, “Man, can you believe our lives?”
*
Chris’s mouth is hot on his the minute the front door finishes closing. Chris kept a respectable three feet between them on the walk up the driveway. On the cab ride over, Chris’s hand worked his cock through the denim of his jeans, Chris’s teeth sharp on his shoulder blade.
The stop and go is giving Zach vertigo.
They make it the bedroom without tripping on any of the clothes they’ve lost along the way.
Chris’s blowjob routine seems to involve more enthusiasm than technique. It’s good anyway. He lets Zach come in his mouth and doesn’t spit it out until after Zach’s done.
Chris finds the condom and lube in the bedside table. Zach flips over on his stomach. He hasn’t been fucked in awhile but tonight’s as good as any to start again.
Chris is slow going in but he gets into it pretty quickly. “Fuck Zach, you’re so tight,” he says against Zach’s ear. “Fuck fuck fuck-”
*
Predictably, Zach’s alarm clock goes off before he’s ready. Next to him, Chris blinks sleepily.
“Hey,” Zach says.
Chris looks back at him with the biggest Bambi post-shooting eyes that Zach’s ever seen. He flinches when Zach reaches a hand out.
“Look man, last night-, I’m not-“
He probably really wasn’t. Zach knows the type.
It’s too early for this conversation. Zach says instead, “Ok, just get out.”
Chris gets.
*
Two days later, Zach gets a text from Cho that says, dude did u no that ur bf is banging som chick from da Hills. Zach texts back, I hope he uses a condom.
*
Chuck’s filmed in L.A. just like Heroes, but Zac’s family is based in New York. Zac has a brother-in-law who’s some hotshot Broadway producer type and throws together hedonistic orgies masquerading as simple get-togethers every listed holiday.
Zach doesn’t have vacations anymore so much as busy and not-busy periods. He’s in the not-phase, and New York seems as good as any to spend it. It’s not L.A.
Zac’s not in town, but Matt is. Matt knows Zac’s family as well as any of the regulars and gets Zach an invitation without much effort. Zach kind of feels bad about the blatant mooching, but Matt doesn’t seem to mind.
They stop for sushi and sake first at a divey place on Columbus. Half the clientele consists of second-rate businessmen and the other half prep-school kids trying to score some cheap alcohol.
“How’s unemployment working out?” Zach asks as they wait for the appetizers to arrive.
“Excuse me?”
“Bryce Larkin? I saw the finale.”
Matt’s starring in a new series on cable. It’s the kind of part Zach probably would have gone for if he hadn’t been on Heroes.
“How’s the whole Star Trek thing working for you?” Matt asks back.
“It’s working.”
“That exciting, huh?”
“No, no, it’s great,” Zach says quickly.
It is great. Zach’s just a little bit fucked up. He doesn’t tell Matt about Chris.
Matt smiles up through lowered lashes and tells Zach about this off off-Broadway play he just saw. He makes it sound interesting.
*
When they finish, it’s close to one. Matt looks uptown. “Fashionably late?”
Zach’s forgotten about the party. It’s not exactly his his scene anyway. “We could go back to my place,” he says.
“But no ass fucking?”
“It’s not entirely out of my repertoire.”
Matt laughs and doesn’t look surprised. “I have a better idea.”
*
Matt takes them to a gallery opening in Chelsea. It’s one of the smaller places. There’s not too many people around, but the champagne is good.
The pieces are mostly an eclectic mix of soft, watercolor greens against solid oil reds and auburns. The artist is a friend of Matt’s. He gets academic when Zach asks, dissecting brush strokes with reasoned precision. Zach was expecting abstract handwaving. This is better.
Zach looks across the room at Matt who smiles back and nods back.
*
Matt’s somehow scored a 1,000 square foot loft in the Meatpacking District. Zach wouldn’t be surprised if he were paying for the rent in charm.
Matt’s mouth is alcohol bitter and rentboy sweet, and his cock is flushed and hard. Zach can’t get enough of either.
*
The next morning, Matt’s up making coffee before Zach’s even opened his eyes. “You want some breakfast?” he asks when Zach walks over.
Zach likes Matt. He likes Matt more than he ever though he would. He likes Matt exactly because Matt is Matt, because he’s beautiful and funny and nice. He’s almost unreal.
He’s kind of the type of guy Zach usually falls for. He’s kind of the type of guy who usually never falls for Zach.
Zach hasn’t exactly been on his best behavior. He should apologize. He says, “Matt, I’m...I’m not in the best place right now.”
Matt makes his way around the corner. This close, Zach can see he’s already showered. His hair smells like mint.
“Dude, are you seriously always this complicated?” Matt says.
“Maybe?”
Matt laughs. It’s uncomplicated and bright. “Come on, I’ll make you an omelet.”
*
White Collar does really well. Really well.
Matt likes to tell him about it over voicemail: “People thinks I’m a sex icon. I should probably be flattered, but then, it’s People. Should I be flattered?” “Man, it’s actually kind of tough being this popular.” “Some girl just gave me her panties. I think they’re used.”
Zach calls back and says, “I hope you washed them before you tried them on.”
*
Two weeks before the end of shooting, Kring calls him into his office. Everyone’s predicating something big for the finale. No one’s even seen the script yet.
“Sit down, Zach,” Kring says.
Zach sits. He’s pretty sure he knows where this conversation is going.
“First of all, I want you to know how much we really appreciate what you’ve brought to the character of Sylar,” Kring says.
Zach smiles and nods.
*
Matt’s landlady has a great memory. She lets Zach in with a wink.
Zach’s not the type to snoop, but he does pick up a dog-eared copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude and starts reading.
Matt comes home at 10, looking tired and rumpled. Zach’s on page 213. Matt looks surprised but not upset.
“You have dinner yet?” Matt asks.
“Waiting for you.”
Matt orders them Indian and casually drops down next to Zach on the couch. It’s a wide couch. Their thighs barely touch.
“So what are you doing here?” Matt says.
“I don’t know. Just hanging I guess.” Zach pauses. “I kind of got fired.”
Matt nods. “Got any plans?”
“No really.”
“You know that’ll drive you crazy, right?”
Zach doesn’t brother hesitating. “Probably.”
Matt laughs and kisses him.
*
A word of warning, here's what I know about Matt Bomer the Person: he's very pretty and he likes to kiss boys. My knowledge of ZQ is basically limited to his bromance videos with Chris Pine. And if Chris Pine isn't that douchey, then ZQ isn't really this much of an asshole, and Matt Bomer isn't this slutty-esque (♥).
Also, un-betaed (and written mostly at 3 am). Sorry! It was suppose to be comment-fic, and I suck at finding betas quickly! :'(
Last Stop Before the Promised Land
zq/matt bomer, zq/chris pine, r, 2,300 words
*
Zachary Levi, that asshole, shows up at Marquee half an hour late and wearing an overaged twink brunette on his arm. He introduces the guy as “You remember Matt, right?” which is always bad etiquette because no one ever does.
Most days, Zach likes the other Zac just fine but not when he’s spent the lead-in of his first hiatus Friday night making small talk with “I’m an actor/actress”es. Even if he did pick the club.
Matt’s the kind of pretty that Zach remembers mostly from theater school. Zach remembers fucking a couple of them usually right after they got the big heroic lead in the school play.
Matt likes to tell dirty jokes in a charming, rolling timber, elbows slouched on the bar behind him. Zac laughs at all of them even though Matt’s used the phrase “a fucking eleven inch boner” in at least two.
It’d make more sense if Zac was gay or at least bi-curious. Zach does’t see the appeal besides the obvious. He excuses himself and heads for the bathroom.
*
Zach’s just got his zipper down when Matt walks in. There’s five empty spots, but Matt takes the one next to him. Of course.
Over the urinal wall, Matt does a slow check out of his dick and gives him a grin like the most obvious bad porno come-on ever. Zach tries not to roll his eyes.
*
It’s raining when Zach finally gets out of the club. The air’s filled with the smell of musty New York pavement and escaping subway fumes. Zach doesn’t have an umbrella with him.
The club door opens behind him, letting out a brief chorus of bad techno.
It’s Matt. The rain and the street lamps suit him even better than the glow of strobe lights. “Hey,” he says, “you want to share a cab?”
It’s been one of those nights. Zach can feel a headache coming on. He leans in close and whispers, “Despite the peacock mascot, I’m afraid ABC’s where you have to go for the ass-fucking.”
“So you’re saying you’re straight?” Matt sounds genuinely confused.
Zach’s not. Zach has a date with a nice, big cock and a pretty smile waiting for him back at his hotel room, but it’s not any of Matt’s business. He says, “I’ll leave the interpretation up to you.”
Zach takes the first cab that stops. In the rearview mirror, he sees Matt go back into the club.
*
The next morning, Zach wakes up with the worst non-hangover hangover ever. He wasn’t drinking enough to matter, but he still feels a vein pulsing at his temple: thump thump thump. Thankfully, the trick from last night is gone. It’s one of the things Zach likes most about New York; everyone knows the script and sticks to it.
On his cell, Zac’s texted, Did you leave early last night couldnt find you after you ok? Want to get lunch or something.
He was rude last night, probably abysmally so. Zach’s usually a decent friend until he gets bored. He once had an ex-boyfriend call him a “charming, selfish bastard” on the breakup voicemail.
He texts back, Sorry, I wasn’t feeling very well and cut out early, and, because he’s feeling guilty, Your friend Matt is pretty cool.
*
The hiatus always throws him off-kilter. When he’s working, he feels a lot easier about goofing off, hanging out in over-priced hotspots and trashing the locals.
During the break, he has a lot of time to think. His agent keeps feeding him scripts that’s either pretentious art house bullshit or like the guy who helps the best friend get back his girl.
He feels restless. He’s not bored with Heroes yet, but if he’s honest, at least with himself, he’s getting there. He keeps fantasizing about quitting. He gets lost in the stark finality of it.
But he wouldn’t do it.
*
He spends three weeks in New York before he needs to head home to do a script reading for Kring.
On his second to last night there, Zac takes him out with a bunch of the people from his show. Chuck’s been renewed for a full run which means they’re all getting a raise. Everyone seems to know Matt.
Matt’s quieter around them for some reason. He’s wearing a light blue Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up and belted gray slacks. Last time, he was in a t-shirt and jeans. He looks five years older, more composed.
“Sorry, I was such an asshole last time,” Zach says.
“No worries,” Matt says back and smiles. It crinkles the corners of his eyes, makes them look a little less startled, a little less blue. It’s a good look on him.
“Let me make it up to you. Buy you a drink at least.”
“But still no ass-fucking, huh?”
“Sorry,” Zach says.
*
Heroes starts filming again in August. After three months of drifting, it’s good to have a schedule again. For the first month, Zach is only late for half of his early morning shoots.
*
He gets the call to do Star Trek in December.
*
Heroes is pretty big budget, but Star Trek is big budget on a whole other level. Zach spends a lot of time rolling around full-scale sets and getting ferried back and forth in blackout curtained golf carts.
His wake-up calls get even earlier. He’s mostly good about being on time.
He gets along with almost all of his castmates. Actors are usually some pretty fun people, but Star Trek’s boy-club camaraderie (plus Zoe) is easy and unassuming. He has it on Heroes to be sure. He has good friends already, but the novelty gives it an edge.
It’s a great three months. Better than he would have predicated.
*
In Australia, Zach looks out across Sydney harbor to the Opera House where they’ve had the premier the night before. It’s early; he’s still buzzing a little from the champagne and the commotion.
But he wants to see it, just once, when the morning air still carries the crispness of dew and the only foot traffic is from the really dedicated joggers. He wants to see the familiar arches of the Opera House’s roof, precise as a postcard, and know that it’s real.
*
Zach makes it through two months of promotions and gains a new best friend. He and Chris worked well on set, but out of costume, they’re even better.
Chris is funny and charming and smart. Zach is more impressed than he thought he’d be.
*
All of the L.A. parties Zach’s been to involved a pool. This one’s no different even if it’s J.J.’s pool.
Amongst the Star Trek people is the usual Hollywood crowd. Zach watches as Lindsey Lohan introduce herself to Chris with an air kiss like they’ve never co-starred in a movie together. Chris smiles back and nods to her gushing. She keeps a finger twirling the trailing ends of her hair.
From across the pool, Chris catches Zach’s eye and loses it, body bent nearly in half in laughter. His wine class shakes precariously but doesn’t spill. Lindsey looks confused.
Chris makes his way over. His loafers make a tapping sound against the poolside tile. He says, “Man, can you believe our lives?”
*
Chris’s mouth is hot on his the minute the front door finishes closing. Chris kept a respectable three feet between them on the walk up the driveway. On the cab ride over, Chris’s hand worked his cock through the denim of his jeans, Chris’s teeth sharp on his shoulder blade.
The stop and go is giving Zach vertigo.
They make it the bedroom without tripping on any of the clothes they’ve lost along the way.
Chris’s blowjob routine seems to involve more enthusiasm than technique. It’s good anyway. He lets Zach come in his mouth and doesn’t spit it out until after Zach’s done.
Chris finds the condom and lube in the bedside table. Zach flips over on his stomach. He hasn’t been fucked in awhile but tonight’s as good as any to start again.
Chris is slow going in but he gets into it pretty quickly. “Fuck Zach, you’re so tight,” he says against Zach’s ear. “Fuck fuck fuck-”
*
Predictably, Zach’s alarm clock goes off before he’s ready. Next to him, Chris blinks sleepily.
“Hey,” Zach says.
Chris looks back at him with the biggest Bambi post-shooting eyes that Zach’s ever seen. He flinches when Zach reaches a hand out.
“Look man, last night-, I’m not-“
He probably really wasn’t. Zach knows the type.
It’s too early for this conversation. Zach says instead, “Ok, just get out.”
Chris gets.
*
Two days later, Zach gets a text from Cho that says, dude did u no that ur bf is banging som chick from da Hills. Zach texts back, I hope he uses a condom.
*
Chuck’s filmed in L.A. just like Heroes, but Zac’s family is based in New York. Zac has a brother-in-law who’s some hotshot Broadway producer type and throws together hedonistic orgies masquerading as simple get-togethers every listed holiday.
Zach doesn’t have vacations anymore so much as busy and not-busy periods. He’s in the not-phase, and New York seems as good as any to spend it. It’s not L.A.
Zac’s not in town, but Matt is. Matt knows Zac’s family as well as any of the regulars and gets Zach an invitation without much effort. Zach kind of feels bad about the blatant mooching, but Matt doesn’t seem to mind.
They stop for sushi and sake first at a divey place on Columbus. Half the clientele consists of second-rate businessmen and the other half prep-school kids trying to score some cheap alcohol.
“How’s unemployment working out?” Zach asks as they wait for the appetizers to arrive.
“Excuse me?”
“Bryce Larkin? I saw the finale.”
Matt’s starring in a new series on cable. It’s the kind of part Zach probably would have gone for if he hadn’t been on Heroes.
“How’s the whole Star Trek thing working for you?” Matt asks back.
“It’s working.”
“That exciting, huh?”
“No, no, it’s great,” Zach says quickly.
It is great. Zach’s just a little bit fucked up. He doesn’t tell Matt about Chris.
Matt smiles up through lowered lashes and tells Zach about this off off-Broadway play he just saw. He makes it sound interesting.
*
When they finish, it’s close to one. Matt looks uptown. “Fashionably late?”
Zach’s forgotten about the party. It’s not exactly his his scene anyway. “We could go back to my place,” he says.
“But no ass fucking?”
“It’s not entirely out of my repertoire.”
Matt laughs and doesn’t look surprised. “I have a better idea.”
*
Matt takes them to a gallery opening in Chelsea. It’s one of the smaller places. There’s not too many people around, but the champagne is good.
The pieces are mostly an eclectic mix of soft, watercolor greens against solid oil reds and auburns. The artist is a friend of Matt’s. He gets academic when Zach asks, dissecting brush strokes with reasoned precision. Zach was expecting abstract handwaving. This is better.
Zach looks across the room at Matt who smiles back and nods back.
*
Matt’s somehow scored a 1,000 square foot loft in the Meatpacking District. Zach wouldn’t be surprised if he were paying for the rent in charm.
Matt’s mouth is alcohol bitter and rentboy sweet, and his cock is flushed and hard. Zach can’t get enough of either.
*
The next morning, Matt’s up making coffee before Zach’s even opened his eyes. “You want some breakfast?” he asks when Zach walks over.
Zach likes Matt. He likes Matt more than he ever though he would. He likes Matt exactly because Matt is Matt, because he’s beautiful and funny and nice. He’s almost unreal.
He’s kind of the type of guy Zach usually falls for. He’s kind of the type of guy who usually never falls for Zach.
Zach hasn’t exactly been on his best behavior. He should apologize. He says, “Matt, I’m...I’m not in the best place right now.”
Matt makes his way around the corner. This close, Zach can see he’s already showered. His hair smells like mint.
“Dude, are you seriously always this complicated?” Matt says.
“Maybe?”
Matt laughs. It’s uncomplicated and bright. “Come on, I’ll make you an omelet.”
*
White Collar does really well. Really well.
Matt likes to tell him about it over voicemail: “People thinks I’m a sex icon. I should probably be flattered, but then, it’s People. Should I be flattered?” “Man, it’s actually kind of tough being this popular.” “Some girl just gave me her panties. I think they’re used.”
Zach calls back and says, “I hope you washed them before you tried them on.”
*
Two weeks before the end of shooting, Kring calls him into his office. Everyone’s predicating something big for the finale. No one’s even seen the script yet.
“Sit down, Zach,” Kring says.
Zach sits. He’s pretty sure he knows where this conversation is going.
“First of all, I want you to know how much we really appreciate what you’ve brought to the character of Sylar,” Kring says.
Zach smiles and nods.
*
Matt’s landlady has a great memory. She lets Zach in with a wink.
Zach’s not the type to snoop, but he does pick up a dog-eared copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude and starts reading.
Matt comes home at 10, looking tired and rumpled. Zach’s on page 213. Matt looks surprised but not upset.
“You have dinner yet?” Matt asks.
“Waiting for you.”
Matt orders them Indian and casually drops down next to Zach on the couch. It’s a wide couch. Their thighs barely touch.
“So what are you doing here?” Matt says.
“I don’t know. Just hanging I guess.” Zach pauses. “I kind of got fired.”
Matt nods. “Got any plans?”
“No really.”
“You know that’ll drive you crazy, right?”
Zach doesn’t brother hesitating. “Probably.”
Matt laughs and kisses him.
*