RPS/Entourage - This One Time at Band Camp (Ari Gold/Robert Downey Jr., PG-13)
So. I saw Iron Man this weekend. I'm still pondering the magnificence that is Tony Stark and who he should gay-up, so we'll get to him eventually. This has been banging around for a while though, I thought it was time to free it.
Real Person Slash/Entourage
Ari Gold/Robert Downey Jr., Matt Damon, George Clooney and Shia LaBeouf
Rated PG-13
This One Time at Band Camp
It's nine-fifteen on a Monday morning when Robert Downey Jr. shows up on Ari Gold's doorstep with two dozen red roses and Matt Damon on his arm. Ari doesn't blink. It never even occurs to him that Matt and Robert might have just taken the California Supreme Court up on their offer of marriage.
In fact, Ari doesn't actually realize Matt is there until after he slams the door in Robert's face, goes back inside the house and fucks the wife until she physically has to kick him out of the bedroom. Then Ari goes and hides in the guest bathroom for ninety minutes to calm his jitters.
There are exes and then there are exes.
For Ari Gold, Robert Downey Jr. is most definitely the latter.
A long time ago, in a land far far away from Poughkeepsie, New York and West Bumblefuck, Kansas, Ari Gold wasn't quite the bastion of money, power, sex and rimming that he is now. A lot of people don't know this, or if they did, they've been quietly dropped over the side of a very tall building by this guy that Ari knows in Miami that owes him a favor.
Actually, Michael Westen doesn't really owe Ari anything, but Ari didn't kill him after he discovered Michael and George Clooney engaging in some Hoover-esque blow job, life-scarring tantric sex in the MGA bathroom at the Chrismukwanzaa party, so there is that.
Plus, there's that whole thing about Michael being an ex-government spy, and Ari maybe having some sealed records from his drug dealing at Harvard, but that's a lot of digressing.
The point is, Ari wasn't always holding Hollywood by the gonads.
In fact, in the very early nineties, Ari only had a handful of clients: an ex-MTV VJ by the name of Dr. Dre, a hick from Kentucky with a mullet and a propensity to kill network pilots named George Clooney, a mentally unstable blonde Z-lister named Sharon Stone and a knee-high to a leprechaun firecracker named Robert Downey Jr.
It wasn't really Ari's fault. You can choose your friends and you can disown your family, but clients do not grow on trees.
Ari comes racing out of the garage fast enough to almost scrape the top off of the Benz on the garage door. He's in a hurry; he doesn't have time to see if Matt and Robert are still loitering around his front door, even if he's so busy looking in his rearview mirror that he gets lost in his own gated community. When the car phone rings, Ari's distracted enough to answer it.
"SPEAK!"
"Ari, Ari, Ari," Matt chides in greeting.
Ari slams on the brakes. Where the fuck did that MILF and her six kids come from? The MILF gives him the finger, and Ari does something obscene with his tongue. "You're a fucking traitor, Captain America! What the fuck do you want?"
"You got me the Captain America role?" Matt's voice pitches high. He's so easy to distract sometimes. Not most times, but sometimes.
"Maybe," Ari prevaricates. "Maybe not. It depends on why you're stalking my house with my ex."
"We're not stalking, Ari, Robert just wanted to-"
"I have no money left to send him to rehab again," Ari interrupts. "Don’t bring him around again, or I'll get a restraining order."
Ari has never hung up on Matt before, but there's a first time for everything.
Despite what the other five billion, nine-hundred and ninety million people on the planet may think, Los Angeles is actually a pretty small town. There are only ten million people living in the greater Los Angeles county, and of those, maybe five million are living in L.A. itself. Once you start cutting out the twenty-eight people who don't work in the entertainment industry and the people who aren't actors, agents, producers, directors or drug dealers, Hollywood is actually a very very small town. So, when you climb into really co-dependent relationships with your clients, bribe them with hookers and blow to get them on set, get handcuffed together naked at Cannes, let them stay in your home after they've been evicted from their apartments, and then they take your wife's jewelry and you drive them to rehab, once, twice, five times -- well, everybody knows it.
Ari's in the MGA elevator when his Crackberry jingles and Shia LaBeouf's name appears on the screen. Right now, Ari doesn't even remember where in the world his child is promoting Indiana Jones and This Title is Too Fucking Long. That's not a good thing.
"Golden Goose, I swear if you got arrested for spitting in the gutter or finger fucking Batshit Gosling for the stewardesses in first class, I will leave you in jail to become some dude named Big Mo's bitch."
Shia's quiet for two whole seconds. "So, you'd be okay with my finger fucking Ryan in coach. That's good to know."
"No, that is NOT good to know!" Ari is not having a temper tantrum in the elevator, but when the doors open, he does have to stop jumping up and down. "If you get on this elevator I will cut off your dick and throw it off the 405," he hisses at the waiting UPS delivery man.
"Ari, are you having a bad day?" Shia mocks. "I feel like you're more homicidal than usual. Do I need to call dad and have him remove your butt plug?"
"First of all, I've told you about going in our sex drawer, and secondly, you could crack nuts with my asshole, because I don't shove anything up there and --"
"That's not what Matt said," Shia interjects.
"Well, you tell Matthew that if I catch him talking shit again, not only will I flush that Captain America role into development hell, but that video of him and Buttfleck and that pink double dildo will be on YouTube by this afternoon."
Shia hmms. "So, it is true about you and Robert Downey Jr., isn't it?"
"IT IS NOT TRUE THAT I GOT FUCKED BY ROBERT DOWNEY JR!" Ari shrieks just as the elevator doors open on his floor.
Of course, Lloyd is waiting for him. He doesn't even seem particularly phased by Ari's outburst. George, though, George looks entirely too amused. Ari forgot they had a meeting this morning.
"So," George drawls casually. "You and Bob are getting back together, huh?"
Ari spies several peons watching them avidly. "You're all fucking fired," he hisses, stomping away from George and Lloyd.
His left eye is starting to twitch.
A long time ago, Robert used to make a lot of other things twitch too.
Ari makes a lot of jokes about people's sexuality, but the fact of the matter is he doesn't care who sticks what in what orifice as long as it feels good and he can still sit down when it's done. And as long as they clean up afterwards. Ari just enjoys talking shit about the crap other people get up to because it's fun, and Ari has to get his entertainment where he can.
The fact of the matter is that people on the West Coast look good. Men, women, people who haven't decided yet. It's all about appearances in Tinseltown. You may think you like chicks and then you meet some guy with a dick, who is cool and likes the same stuff you do, and you find yourself responding in ways that would never fly with your upper West Side Jewish mom. That's kind of what happened with Ari and Robert Downey Jr.
The lines between client and agent are blurry enough -- Shia, Matt and George are proof of that -- but when you start having questionable relations with the person you're supposed to be representing.
Well, then there are no lines at all.
George Clooney and Ari are sitting in Ari's office playing football with a folded piece of paper. They're supposed to be talking about George's new Goat Whisperer film, but Ari's distracted. Ari hates being distracted.
"And then I'm going to have Anderson dress up in a Furries costume," George says blithely, "and I'm going to fuck him with my back to the camera so the audience can see it all, including that birth mark he has right on --
Ari's brain flashes red alert when the football hits him in the forehead. "Wait, WHAT?!"
George's mouth twists into a wry smirk as he sits up in his chair. "I haven't seen you this distracted since Brad knocked up Angie for the first time." George pauses. "Or that time when I made Shia gay for Milo."
"I was distracted because I couldn't get your pasty ass to come down off the ledge," Ari retorts mildly. He's not even going to get into yet another debate about their kid.
He still can't believe Downey showed up with Matt and flowers. The flowers are one thing, but Matt is another.
"When did Matt become Robert's Court-Appointed Advocate?" Ari demands.
George shrugs elegantly. "I don't know. Why? Are you jealous?"
Ari scoffs loudly. "Jealous of beards and Jason Bourne looking after one of the most talented junkies in town, let me think about that for a minute. Hmm. Fuck no!"
George rolls his eyes. "You might want to work on your delivery. It's lacking in believability. It might be because your eye is twitching." Ari covers his eye with one hand. "Now you look like a pirate."
"I don't want to talk about him," Ari sulks. "He's an asshole. He's probably being repped by the wino outside Starbucks."
"You mean your last assistant?" George smiles. "You expect me to believe you don't know who's representing your --"
"Don't fucking say it," Ari warns. "Do not even fucking say it."
"Ex-client," George finishes.
Mentally, Ari is scowling. Physically, he's not really sure. His eye is twitching and his heart is beating erratically in his chest. Men suck.
"Talk to him, Ari," George insists. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"He could happen," Ari says flatly. "He could happen again."
Putting Robert in rehab for the first time broke Ari's heart. Literally. He went home to Mrs. Ari and two-year old Sarah and cried for three days, but there really wasn't much else to do. Robert was drinking and drugging and whoring, and George's career was taking off, and Ari just couldn't keep up anymore. The second time was harder than the first, because Ari had foolishly had hope that rehab might actually rehabilitate Robert.
Hope will kill you faster than despair.
After George leaves, Ari goes to a business meeting that is actually the 2:15p.m. viewing of Iron Man at the Century City AMC. It's there that Ari falls in love all over again; it's just as bad as it seems.
Robert is Tony Stark. He's brash and arrogant and brilliant and blue balls-hot in his bespoke suits. When he bleeds, Ari's heart drops, and when he's great, there's no one that is better. Even George. George is a star, but Robert is an actor. He could sell bacon to rabbis.
Robert makes you believe in anything and everything; that's always been Ari's downfall.
Ari goes back to the office, not because he's really in the mood to work, but because he can't go home after seeing Iron Man and not have Mrs. Ari sniff it out. She always knew when he'd been hanging around The First Mrs. Gold; he can't imagine it being any different now.
Lloyd's manning the desks, and he eyes Ari warily as he approaches. "I didn't have anything to do with it," he says, waving his left hand vaguely. "Even though he's totally cute, and he brought you coffee even though it's probably cold now because you've been gone all day, and he's been playing on your computer for like three hours, and please don't kill him because there's still a lot of witnesses around."
Ari blinks. "Ass monkey, speak English."
Lloyd scowls and just points over his shoulder.
Robert Downey Jr. is sitting at Ari's desk, spinning around in his chair. Robert always did like chairs that spun fast. Ari's eye starts twitching again and he sighs. Now would be a perfect time for his office not to have four walls of floor-to-ceiling windows. "Go get me some coffee," he demands gruffly.
"But he brought you some coffee," Lloyd protests, before dropping his voice. "Is he really your ex-boyfriend, like Matt said?"
"Matt's a liar," Ari says mildly. "Now go."
Lloyd sighs. "You never let me stick around for the good stuff."
"There's nothing to see, Dim Sum. Don't make me deport you."
Lloyd stands up and purses his lips. "If he is your ex, just remember that you used to love him."
Ari back seizes up as he keeps the non-twitching eye on Bob. It'd be just like that asshole to go flying off the chair and out the window. "What?"
Lloyd shrugs. "There must've been something that brought you two together in the first place."
"Yes, it's called hookers and blow, now get the fuck out before I immolate your ass like a Tibetan monk!"
Lloyd scowls again.
"And take the long route," Ari calls after him loudly.
Robert stops spinning in his chair and looks up. Stupid glass walls. How the hell is Ari supposed to make an entrance when Robert can see him staring?
Ari shakes it off. He is Ari fucking Gold. If he can't be fazed by every last one of his clients being try-everything-sexual in the age of YouTube, Perez Hilton and camera phones, he's not going to be rattled by his ex whatever.
That's his fucking chair. This is his fucking office. It's his fucking life. Robert could've been part of it -- he would've been the center of it -- but he chose the drugs instead.
"Don't I have a restraining order out on you?" Ari demands, stalking into his office and right up to his desk.
Robert gives him a big smile. "I missed you too, cupcake."
"I don’t have any money, I don't have any blow, there's nothing for you here. Get out."
Robert's smile doesn't dim at all. "Maybe I have something for you?"
Ari has to slap one hand over his eye. He can't concentrate with it twitching like this. "Oh, I've had plenty of things from you," he replies dryly, grabbing his dick with his other hand to emphasize his point.
Robert laughs. "Thank God they made Valtrex, huh?"
Ari can't live like this. "What do you want, Downey?" he asks, dropping into one of his own guests chairs limply. "Seriously. Ask, so I can give to you and you'll go away."
"You really don't want to see me, do you?"
"The last time I saw you, you'd nearly died from an OD. Ask me the same fucking question again, go on."
The smile on Robert's face falls. "I, uh, I did something for you. It's a gift."
"My wife almost left me and took my kid because I put you first, I think you did plenty."
Robert rubs his forehead. "I know I fucked up. I'm sorry, Ari. I can't say anything besides that."
"You're sorry?" Ari parrots rising out of his chair. "SORRY?!" Ari doesn't even realize he's reached across the desk and grabbed Robert by the shirt collar until he hears the cotton rip slightly in his hand.
Robert's aged remarkably well for an ex-junkie. He always did have better luck than most.
"I know I fucked up," Robert persists, slowly extricating himself from Ari's grip. "But I've been working on it. I brought you Iron Man; I did it for you, Ari. I wanted something I could bring you to show you that I'd changed, something you could be proud of."
"Bullshit," Ari says flatly.
"I see your eye still twitches when you're stressed out." Robert smiles.
Ari's forehead furrows in confusion. He always had problems breathing right when Bob was this close. "How the fuck could you bring me Iron Man? I didn't rep you for that!"
"Yeah, but now that I'm a big star, you can sign me again and get a cut from Iron Man 2. It won't be like last time; I can make this happen. I even got Warners to agree to give Captain America to Matt when I optioned for Iron Man 3."
"You who what?" It almost sounds like Robert's actually thought this through. Like he really wants Ari to be happy, to take him back.
"I couldn't come back all fucked up," Robert says quietly. "It wouldn't be fair to you, so I figured if I could get you something big and shiny, maybe you'd think about it. Us."
Robert's breathing on Ari. In public. In his glass-walled fucking office.
Ari squeezes his eyes closed and pulls back. He feels a bit woozy. Stupid fucking Oompa Loompa Downey. "Think about 'it' what?" he says, praying his tone is even close to smooth.
"You, me, round two."
"You won that fight, I'm out," Ari says gruffly. "In fact, so are you. Out of my chair. Now."
Robert doesn't move when Ari rounds the desk, which leaves Ari with one choice. Sitting on Robert seems like a good idea at the moment. "I have a wife and kids, Downey," Ari announces. "I'm not going down for you again."
Robert's breathing on Ari's neck and with the particular position Ari's in, he can see they've got half the office staring. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SYPHILITIC HOOKERS STARING AT?!" he howls. "Get the fuck back to work unless you want to be fighting off the trannies for business outside Jones'!"
And lo, the minions go away. If only all of life was so easy. Ari shivers when Robert breathes on the back of his neck again.
"So, that went well, I think," Robert says.
"You need to leave," Ari repeats.
"Yeah, well, you sitting on me would suggest otherwise."
"That's because you've got a fucking filthy mind." Ari stands up just long enough to grab the arm of his chair and dump Robert on the floor.
Robert stares up at him with huge eyes. Ari used to be a sucker for this look, but people change. "You know we're over," he says quietly. "There are other people now."
Robert shrugs wryly on the floor. "Doesn't mean I don't still love you."
Ari doesn't know what to say to that.
"Doesn't mean I can't make you rich too," Robert adds.
"Now we're talking," Ari agrees. "Which sheep fucker at CAA is representing you again?" Ari doesn't wait for any answer. "Never mind, I know who the verbal diaretic it is. I can't wait to leave some flaming poo on his Nazi sled! Get up off the floor before Lloyd thinks you're giving me a blow job."
Ari offers Robert a hand, which Robert uses to lever himself up. He doesn't let go immediately afterwards. "I missed you, Ari, just so you know."
Ari rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Stop manipulating me emotionally. You know I'd do anything for you."
Robert smirks. "Are we gonna hug this out or what?"
Ari rolls his eyes even as Robert hugs him for the first time in almost seven years. It feels good to have Robert back in his life again. It feels like Ari is whole.
"Oh my god!" Lloyd's melodic tenor totally kills the moment. "You're hugging it out; I have to call Matt!"
Ari slaps Robert away. "So, you're offering me money," he says trying to get past what's happening.
Robert smirks. "I know you, Ari."
Ari shakes his head. "Yeah, that's the whole problem." When Ari bites his lip, he can feel Robert staring. "I missed you, too," he confesses bluntly to the hole he made in Robert's collar.
When he looks back up, Robert smiles.
"Right, enough emoting!" Ari claps his hands and takes a step back. "Now go out there and make me some fucking money, whore. You owe me for like eight trips to rehab."
"I only went six times."
"Consider it interest."
"The love, man," Robert laughs. "It does me good."
-end-
Real Person Slash/Entourage
Ari Gold/Robert Downey Jr., Matt Damon, George Clooney and Shia LaBeouf
Rated PG-13
This One Time at Band Camp
It's nine-fifteen on a Monday morning when Robert Downey Jr. shows up on Ari Gold's doorstep with two dozen red roses and Matt Damon on his arm. Ari doesn't blink. It never even occurs to him that Matt and Robert might have just taken the California Supreme Court up on their offer of marriage.
In fact, Ari doesn't actually realize Matt is there until after he slams the door in Robert's face, goes back inside the house and fucks the wife until she physically has to kick him out of the bedroom. Then Ari goes and hides in the guest bathroom for ninety minutes to calm his jitters.
There are exes and then there are exes.
For Ari Gold, Robert Downey Jr. is most definitely the latter.
A long time ago, in a land far far away from Poughkeepsie, New York and West Bumblefuck, Kansas, Ari Gold wasn't quite the bastion of money, power, sex and rimming that he is now. A lot of people don't know this, or if they did, they've been quietly dropped over the side of a very tall building by this guy that Ari knows in Miami that owes him a favor.
Actually, Michael Westen doesn't really owe Ari anything, but Ari didn't kill him after he discovered Michael and George Clooney engaging in some Hoover-esque blow job, life-scarring tantric sex in the MGA bathroom at the Chrismukwanzaa party, so there is that.
Plus, there's that whole thing about Michael being an ex-government spy, and Ari maybe having some sealed records from his drug dealing at Harvard, but that's a lot of digressing.
The point is, Ari wasn't always holding Hollywood by the gonads.
In fact, in the very early nineties, Ari only had a handful of clients: an ex-MTV VJ by the name of Dr. Dre, a hick from Kentucky with a mullet and a propensity to kill network pilots named George Clooney, a mentally unstable blonde Z-lister named Sharon Stone and a knee-high to a leprechaun firecracker named Robert Downey Jr.
It wasn't really Ari's fault. You can choose your friends and you can disown your family, but clients do not grow on trees.
Ari comes racing out of the garage fast enough to almost scrape the top off of the Benz on the garage door. He's in a hurry; he doesn't have time to see if Matt and Robert are still loitering around his front door, even if he's so busy looking in his rearview mirror that he gets lost in his own gated community. When the car phone rings, Ari's distracted enough to answer it.
"SPEAK!"
"Ari, Ari, Ari," Matt chides in greeting.
Ari slams on the brakes. Where the fuck did that MILF and her six kids come from? The MILF gives him the finger, and Ari does something obscene with his tongue. "You're a fucking traitor, Captain America! What the fuck do you want?"
"You got me the Captain America role?" Matt's voice pitches high. He's so easy to distract sometimes. Not most times, but sometimes.
"Maybe," Ari prevaricates. "Maybe not. It depends on why you're stalking my house with my ex."
"We're not stalking, Ari, Robert just wanted to-"
"I have no money left to send him to rehab again," Ari interrupts. "Don’t bring him around again, or I'll get a restraining order."
Ari has never hung up on Matt before, but there's a first time for everything.
Despite what the other five billion, nine-hundred and ninety million people on the planet may think, Los Angeles is actually a pretty small town. There are only ten million people living in the greater Los Angeles county, and of those, maybe five million are living in L.A. itself. Once you start cutting out the twenty-eight people who don't work in the entertainment industry and the people who aren't actors, agents, producers, directors or drug dealers, Hollywood is actually a very very small town. So, when you climb into really co-dependent relationships with your clients, bribe them with hookers and blow to get them on set, get handcuffed together naked at Cannes, let them stay in your home after they've been evicted from their apartments, and then they take your wife's jewelry and you drive them to rehab, once, twice, five times -- well, everybody knows it.
Ari's in the MGA elevator when his Crackberry jingles and Shia LaBeouf's name appears on the screen. Right now, Ari doesn't even remember where in the world his child is promoting Indiana Jones and This Title is Too Fucking Long. That's not a good thing.
"Golden Goose, I swear if you got arrested for spitting in the gutter or finger fucking Batshit Gosling for the stewardesses in first class, I will leave you in jail to become some dude named Big Mo's bitch."
Shia's quiet for two whole seconds. "So, you'd be okay with my finger fucking Ryan in coach. That's good to know."
"No, that is NOT good to know!" Ari is not having a temper tantrum in the elevator, but when the doors open, he does have to stop jumping up and down. "If you get on this elevator I will cut off your dick and throw it off the 405," he hisses at the waiting UPS delivery man.
"Ari, are you having a bad day?" Shia mocks. "I feel like you're more homicidal than usual. Do I need to call dad and have him remove your butt plug?"
"First of all, I've told you about going in our sex drawer, and secondly, you could crack nuts with my asshole, because I don't shove anything up there and --"
"That's not what Matt said," Shia interjects.
"Well, you tell Matthew that if I catch him talking shit again, not only will I flush that Captain America role into development hell, but that video of him and Buttfleck and that pink double dildo will be on YouTube by this afternoon."
Shia hmms. "So, it is true about you and Robert Downey Jr., isn't it?"
"IT IS NOT TRUE THAT I GOT FUCKED BY ROBERT DOWNEY JR!" Ari shrieks just as the elevator doors open on his floor.
Of course, Lloyd is waiting for him. He doesn't even seem particularly phased by Ari's outburst. George, though, George looks entirely too amused. Ari forgot they had a meeting this morning.
"So," George drawls casually. "You and Bob are getting back together, huh?"
Ari spies several peons watching them avidly. "You're all fucking fired," he hisses, stomping away from George and Lloyd.
His left eye is starting to twitch.
A long time ago, Robert used to make a lot of other things twitch too.
Ari makes a lot of jokes about people's sexuality, but the fact of the matter is he doesn't care who sticks what in what orifice as long as it feels good and he can still sit down when it's done. And as long as they clean up afterwards. Ari just enjoys talking shit about the crap other people get up to because it's fun, and Ari has to get his entertainment where he can.
The fact of the matter is that people on the West Coast look good. Men, women, people who haven't decided yet. It's all about appearances in Tinseltown. You may think you like chicks and then you meet some guy with a dick, who is cool and likes the same stuff you do, and you find yourself responding in ways that would never fly with your upper West Side Jewish mom. That's kind of what happened with Ari and Robert Downey Jr.
The lines between client and agent are blurry enough -- Shia, Matt and George are proof of that -- but when you start having questionable relations with the person you're supposed to be representing.
Well, then there are no lines at all.
George Clooney and Ari are sitting in Ari's office playing football with a folded piece of paper. They're supposed to be talking about George's new Goat Whisperer film, but Ari's distracted. Ari hates being distracted.
"And then I'm going to have Anderson dress up in a Furries costume," George says blithely, "and I'm going to fuck him with my back to the camera so the audience can see it all, including that birth mark he has right on --
Ari's brain flashes red alert when the football hits him in the forehead. "Wait, WHAT?!"
George's mouth twists into a wry smirk as he sits up in his chair. "I haven't seen you this distracted since Brad knocked up Angie for the first time." George pauses. "Or that time when I made Shia gay for Milo."
"I was distracted because I couldn't get your pasty ass to come down off the ledge," Ari retorts mildly. He's not even going to get into yet another debate about their kid.
He still can't believe Downey showed up with Matt and flowers. The flowers are one thing, but Matt is another.
"When did Matt become Robert's Court-Appointed Advocate?" Ari demands.
George shrugs elegantly. "I don't know. Why? Are you jealous?"
Ari scoffs loudly. "Jealous of beards and Jason Bourne looking after one of the most talented junkies in town, let me think about that for a minute. Hmm. Fuck no!"
George rolls his eyes. "You might want to work on your delivery. It's lacking in believability. It might be because your eye is twitching." Ari covers his eye with one hand. "Now you look like a pirate."
"I don't want to talk about him," Ari sulks. "He's an asshole. He's probably being repped by the wino outside Starbucks."
"You mean your last assistant?" George smiles. "You expect me to believe you don't know who's representing your --"
"Don't fucking say it," Ari warns. "Do not even fucking say it."
"Ex-client," George finishes.
Mentally, Ari is scowling. Physically, he's not really sure. His eye is twitching and his heart is beating erratically in his chest. Men suck.
"Talk to him, Ari," George insists. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"He could happen," Ari says flatly. "He could happen again."
Putting Robert in rehab for the first time broke Ari's heart. Literally. He went home to Mrs. Ari and two-year old Sarah and cried for three days, but there really wasn't much else to do. Robert was drinking and drugging and whoring, and George's career was taking off, and Ari just couldn't keep up anymore. The second time was harder than the first, because Ari had foolishly had hope that rehab might actually rehabilitate Robert.
Hope will kill you faster than despair.
After George leaves, Ari goes to a business meeting that is actually the 2:15p.m. viewing of Iron Man at the Century City AMC. It's there that Ari falls in love all over again; it's just as bad as it seems.
Robert is Tony Stark. He's brash and arrogant and brilliant and blue balls-hot in his bespoke suits. When he bleeds, Ari's heart drops, and when he's great, there's no one that is better. Even George. George is a star, but Robert is an actor. He could sell bacon to rabbis.
Robert makes you believe in anything and everything; that's always been Ari's downfall.
Ari goes back to the office, not because he's really in the mood to work, but because he can't go home after seeing Iron Man and not have Mrs. Ari sniff it out. She always knew when he'd been hanging around The First Mrs. Gold; he can't imagine it being any different now.
Lloyd's manning the desks, and he eyes Ari warily as he approaches. "I didn't have anything to do with it," he says, waving his left hand vaguely. "Even though he's totally cute, and he brought you coffee even though it's probably cold now because you've been gone all day, and he's been playing on your computer for like three hours, and please don't kill him because there's still a lot of witnesses around."
Ari blinks. "Ass monkey, speak English."
Lloyd scowls and just points over his shoulder.
Robert Downey Jr. is sitting at Ari's desk, spinning around in his chair. Robert always did like chairs that spun fast. Ari's eye starts twitching again and he sighs. Now would be a perfect time for his office not to have four walls of floor-to-ceiling windows. "Go get me some coffee," he demands gruffly.
"But he brought you some coffee," Lloyd protests, before dropping his voice. "Is he really your ex-boyfriend, like Matt said?"
"Matt's a liar," Ari says mildly. "Now go."
Lloyd sighs. "You never let me stick around for the good stuff."
"There's nothing to see, Dim Sum. Don't make me deport you."
Lloyd stands up and purses his lips. "If he is your ex, just remember that you used to love him."
Ari back seizes up as he keeps the non-twitching eye on Bob. It'd be just like that asshole to go flying off the chair and out the window. "What?"
Lloyd shrugs. "There must've been something that brought you two together in the first place."
"Yes, it's called hookers and blow, now get the fuck out before I immolate your ass like a Tibetan monk!"
Lloyd scowls again.
"And take the long route," Ari calls after him loudly.
Robert stops spinning in his chair and looks up. Stupid glass walls. How the hell is Ari supposed to make an entrance when Robert can see him staring?
Ari shakes it off. He is Ari fucking Gold. If he can't be fazed by every last one of his clients being try-everything-sexual in the age of YouTube, Perez Hilton and camera phones, he's not going to be rattled by his ex whatever.
That's his fucking chair. This is his fucking office. It's his fucking life. Robert could've been part of it -- he would've been the center of it -- but he chose the drugs instead.
"Don't I have a restraining order out on you?" Ari demands, stalking into his office and right up to his desk.
Robert gives him a big smile. "I missed you too, cupcake."
"I don’t have any money, I don't have any blow, there's nothing for you here. Get out."
Robert's smile doesn't dim at all. "Maybe I have something for you?"
Ari has to slap one hand over his eye. He can't concentrate with it twitching like this. "Oh, I've had plenty of things from you," he replies dryly, grabbing his dick with his other hand to emphasize his point.
Robert laughs. "Thank God they made Valtrex, huh?"
Ari can't live like this. "What do you want, Downey?" he asks, dropping into one of his own guests chairs limply. "Seriously. Ask, so I can give to you and you'll go away."
"You really don't want to see me, do you?"
"The last time I saw you, you'd nearly died from an OD. Ask me the same fucking question again, go on."
The smile on Robert's face falls. "I, uh, I did something for you. It's a gift."
"My wife almost left me and took my kid because I put you first, I think you did plenty."
Robert rubs his forehead. "I know I fucked up. I'm sorry, Ari. I can't say anything besides that."
"You're sorry?" Ari parrots rising out of his chair. "SORRY?!" Ari doesn't even realize he's reached across the desk and grabbed Robert by the shirt collar until he hears the cotton rip slightly in his hand.
Robert's aged remarkably well for an ex-junkie. He always did have better luck than most.
"I know I fucked up," Robert persists, slowly extricating himself from Ari's grip. "But I've been working on it. I brought you Iron Man; I did it for you, Ari. I wanted something I could bring you to show you that I'd changed, something you could be proud of."
"Bullshit," Ari says flatly.
"I see your eye still twitches when you're stressed out." Robert smiles.
Ari's forehead furrows in confusion. He always had problems breathing right when Bob was this close. "How the fuck could you bring me Iron Man? I didn't rep you for that!"
"Yeah, but now that I'm a big star, you can sign me again and get a cut from Iron Man 2. It won't be like last time; I can make this happen. I even got Warners to agree to give Captain America to Matt when I optioned for Iron Man 3."
"You who what?" It almost sounds like Robert's actually thought this through. Like he really wants Ari to be happy, to take him back.
"I couldn't come back all fucked up," Robert says quietly. "It wouldn't be fair to you, so I figured if I could get you something big and shiny, maybe you'd think about it. Us."
Robert's breathing on Ari. In public. In his glass-walled fucking office.
Ari squeezes his eyes closed and pulls back. He feels a bit woozy. Stupid fucking Oompa Loompa Downey. "Think about 'it' what?" he says, praying his tone is even close to smooth.
"You, me, round two."
"You won that fight, I'm out," Ari says gruffly. "In fact, so are you. Out of my chair. Now."
Robert doesn't move when Ari rounds the desk, which leaves Ari with one choice. Sitting on Robert seems like a good idea at the moment. "I have a wife and kids, Downey," Ari announces. "I'm not going down for you again."
Robert's breathing on Ari's neck and with the particular position Ari's in, he can see they've got half the office staring. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SYPHILITIC HOOKERS STARING AT?!" he howls. "Get the fuck back to work unless you want to be fighting off the trannies for business outside Jones'!"
And lo, the minions go away. If only all of life was so easy. Ari shivers when Robert breathes on the back of his neck again.
"So, that went well, I think," Robert says.
"You need to leave," Ari repeats.
"Yeah, well, you sitting on me would suggest otherwise."
"That's because you've got a fucking filthy mind." Ari stands up just long enough to grab the arm of his chair and dump Robert on the floor.
Robert stares up at him with huge eyes. Ari used to be a sucker for this look, but people change. "You know we're over," he says quietly. "There are other people now."
Robert shrugs wryly on the floor. "Doesn't mean I don't still love you."
Ari doesn't know what to say to that.
"Doesn't mean I can't make you rich too," Robert adds.
"Now we're talking," Ari agrees. "Which sheep fucker at CAA is representing you again?" Ari doesn't wait for any answer. "Never mind, I know who the verbal diaretic it is. I can't wait to leave some flaming poo on his Nazi sled! Get up off the floor before Lloyd thinks you're giving me a blow job."
Ari offers Robert a hand, which Robert uses to lever himself up. He doesn't let go immediately afterwards. "I missed you, Ari, just so you know."
Ari rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Stop manipulating me emotionally. You know I'd do anything for you."
Robert smirks. "Are we gonna hug this out or what?"
Ari rolls his eyes even as Robert hugs him for the first time in almost seven years. It feels good to have Robert back in his life again. It feels like Ari is whole.
"Oh my god!" Lloyd's melodic tenor totally kills the moment. "You're hugging it out; I have to call Matt!"
Ari slaps Robert away. "So, you're offering me money," he says trying to get past what's happening.
Robert smirks. "I know you, Ari."
Ari shakes his head. "Yeah, that's the whole problem." When Ari bites his lip, he can feel Robert staring. "I missed you, too," he confesses bluntly to the hole he made in Robert's collar.
When he looks back up, Robert smiles.
"Right, enough emoting!" Ari claps his hands and takes a step back. "Now go out there and make me some fucking money, whore. You owe me for like eight trips to rehab."
"I only went six times."
"Consider it interest."
"The love, man," Robert laughs. "It does me good."
-end-