NeedsAHug!Paul for moderndayshkspr
It was more or less a routine of theirs.
One of the movies would come out eventually, after whatever pains in the arse came along - which could be anything from agreeing on what to do and with whom, through casting, through miscasting, through... well, any damn thing, really. It was long and messy to make a movie, really...
... but more often than not (the advantages to having all that money available, after all), it eventually came out.
There was the opening night. And the party, of course.
And then the morning after.
Paul tended to scowl his way downstairs to the kitchen, not exactly stumbling to the coffee pot, but... still close enough. Start on some breakfast while he was at it, and juice; rehydration and food a means to fight the damned hangover. Eddie would breeze in just enough later to be able to pick shamelessly from the fruits of his friend's labor, earning a blue-eyed glare over the newspaper. And an attempt to turn down the glow (how could he feel this well after a night like that?!) by reading out loud to him the run-down of reviews.
Invariably, a few cheap OKs, and the more influential reviewers, if they'd bothered...
Well. That's why dampening the good mood.
So, this morning he didn't even bother to look at them until Eddie had grabbed a fork and was mercilessly poaching off of his poached eggs. Glare, flip to the familiar page.
Stare, blue eyes growing wider as his face went just a bit slack.
"What is it?"
His eyes were just fixed on the blurb. And then on the next one. That... he couldn't quiet believe it, and kept on rereading it as though it would make more sense.
"Luke... Luke!" Eddie's hand crumpled the paper down and the brown eyes peeked over the top of it. "You're scaring me, mate. What?"
"... they liked it."
"What?!"
"See for yourself."
"You're not serious. Critics never like what we do." The brunet grabbed and smoothed over the page, then his lips stretched wide, and he stepped around the corner of the table and tugged his friend up from his chair, paper thrown over food haphazardly, pulling him in for a boisterous hug, then basically bouncing up. "We did it! We did something they actually won't spit at!" And he went on and on; and Paul's face warmed up into a wide, radiant smile in return.
So they did.
One of the movies would come out eventually, after whatever pains in the arse came along - which could be anything from agreeing on what to do and with whom, through casting, through miscasting, through... well, any damn thing, really. It was long and messy to make a movie, really...
... but more often than not (the advantages to having all that money available, after all), it eventually came out.
There was the opening night. And the party, of course.
And then the morning after.
Paul tended to scowl his way downstairs to the kitchen, not exactly stumbling to the coffee pot, but... still close enough. Start on some breakfast while he was at it, and juice; rehydration and food a means to fight the damned hangover. Eddie would breeze in just enough later to be able to pick shamelessly from the fruits of his friend's labor, earning a blue-eyed glare over the newspaper. And an attempt to turn down the glow (how could he feel this well after a night like that?!) by reading out loud to him the run-down of reviews.
Invariably, a few cheap OKs, and the more influential reviewers, if they'd bothered...
Well. That's why dampening the good mood.
So, this morning he didn't even bother to look at them until Eddie had grabbed a fork and was mercilessly poaching off of his poached eggs. Glare, flip to the familiar page.
Stare, blue eyes growing wider as his face went just a bit slack.
"What is it?"
His eyes were just fixed on the blurb. And then on the next one. That... he couldn't quiet believe it, and kept on rereading it as though it would make more sense.
"Luke... Luke!" Eddie's hand crumpled the paper down and the brown eyes peeked over the top of it. "You're scaring me, mate. What?"
"... they liked it."
"What?!"
"See for yourself."
"You're not serious. Critics never like what we do." The brunet grabbed and smoothed over the page, then his lips stretched wide, and he stepped around the corner of the table and tugged his friend up from his chair, paper thrown over food haphazardly, pulling him in for a boisterous hug, then basically bouncing up. "We did it! We did something they actually won't spit at!" And he went on and on; and Paul's face warmed up into a wide, radiant smile in return.
So they did.