Fic: "The Cigarette Trick" part 1/?
Title: "The Cigarette Trick - Last Shot"
Pairing: Gale Harold/Randy Harrison
Rating: R for language and sexual references
Warnings: If RPS or M/M fics make you squeamish, I wouldn't read this.
Disclaimer: I claim no knowledge of any type of relationship between Gale Harold and Randy Harrison. All aspects of their personal lives in this story are, to my knowledge, completely fictional.
Words: 1,678
Beta: None. Any and all mistakes are mine.
This is my first Gale/Randy fic...I've been obsessed with QAF for awhile now, and I just had to write something between these two amazing actors. I've also created a community for Gale/Randy fans, noplace_special , where we can share fics, fanart, fanvids, etc. Come join if you're interested!
And thanks in advance for reading.
"Last shot of the day, everybody! Before we get started--or done, thank God," the director added with a small laugh, "we wanted to thank all the actors and extras for hanging around for this. It's a small shot, but it's important for the last scene." She snuck around to behind the cameras and pointed at Gale and Randy. "You're up, boys. Make it good."
They nodded and headed into the middle of the "back room" of the Babylon set.
"Gale," the director called. "Shirt."
He looked down at his somewhat plain--plain for Brian, anyway--button-up long sleeved shirt. "What about it?"
Randy poked him in the ribs. "You're not supposed to be wearing one, genius."
Without hesitation Gale nodded and casually unbuttoned the shirt. He stripped it off and held it up. "Where you want it?"
The new extras laughed a little at his nonchalant attitude, but the regulars were used to it. Gale was anything but shy.
"The floor's fine," the director answered. "We might want it in the shot, though, so somewhere near your feet."
Gale dropped the shirt next to his feet and turned to Randy. He held out his arms. "Kiss me, you fool!" He mocked.
Randy laughed and, for what felt like the millionth time, wrapped himself around him.
They started kissing before the director called Action!, which was normal. They wanted it to look real, like they were in the middle of a hot make-out session.
But what wasn't normal about this particular kiss was that not only did it look real, but it felt real. Gale cradled Randy's head gently in his hands and played with the ends of the long blonde hair. Their tongues touched almost hesitantly at first--surprising, considering the number of times they'd seen each other naked--but after a few seconds Randy felt something shift between them. Physically, yes, but it was more than that.
Gale ran his left arm down Randy's side and let it settle on the younger man's hip. Their tongues danced in midair between their open mouths and suddenly--neither of them had any concept of time, so it could have been seconds or minutes later--they heard the director say, "Um, boys?"
They kept going. Randy's hands pulled on Gale to move him closer.
Then, the magic words that woke them up. "Guys! I called cut."
They abruptly broke away from each other and stared at opposite walls. Both of them were panting.
The set was deathly quiet. All of the extras, even the regulars, were staring at the two men like they'd just grown extra heads.
Gale recovered first. He bent over to pick the shirt up off the floor. "I need a smoke. We done here?" He was speaking to the director, but he could still feel Randy vibrating next to him. They were no longer touching, but Gale could still feel him. He needed to get out of there.
The director said, "You guys should see this. It's...amazing."
The two men glanced at each other and then quickly looked away. Randy said, "Okay, I guess."
Gale wanted nothing more than to say no, but he knew that would create even more talk around set. He was sure the rumor mills would already be spinning after that kiss, and he didn't want to make it worse. So he followed Randy to where the director was standing, behind the cameras.
"Play it back," the director told the man standing next to her.
He pushed some buttons on the side of the camera and suddenly Gale and Randy saw themselves on the tiny hooded screen. No, Gale corrected himself. Not Gale and Randy. That's Brian and Justin. But as many times as he said it, he couldn't make it ring true.
Randy watched himself on the screen--something he never liked to do--and felt his heart pick up speed. He cleared his throat and carefully fixed his gaze on a place right next to the camera, so it looked like he was watching. But he wasn't. He couldn't. When the screen went black, the cameraman whistled through his teeth.
Randy said, "Wow."
Gale said nothing.
The director put a hand on each of their shoulders and squeezed. "You guys are fucking amazing. One take, only one take. Perfect. Incredible."
They took the compliment in stride and escaped. The walk to their trailers--which were side-by-side--was painfully quiet. They carefully avoided looking at each other.
When they were thirty seconds away from respective peace and quiet, a beefy, shirtless extra with glitter all over his shaved chest stepped in front of them. "Hey, guys."
Randy said, "Hey. What's up? She doesn't need us back, does she? 'Cause fuck, I'm done." He knew the director didn't want them back, and if she did, she wouldn't have sent an extra to tell them. But he figured this was the fastest way to get to the solitude of his trailer.
The guy shook his head. "Nah, nah, I just wanted to ask you guys something, if you don't mind. If you do, just let me know, you know? 'Cause I'm a big fan and everything, of the show I mean, and you guys are fucking incredible. I completely lucked out getting this gig, because I've always wanted to meet you. I mean, all your scenes together, your chemistry and everything..."
Randy and Gale let him ramble on for a few moments before Gale interrupted, "Cool, so what was your question?" He usually wasn't so brief with fans--extras or not--but he didn't feel like dealing with it tonight.
Randy noticed and gave his friend a sidelong look.
The extra nodded, unfazed. "I was wondering...and you know, like I said, you don't have to answer if you don't wanna. But...how do you guys do those sex scenes without getting hard?"
Usually Gale would have said something sarcastic like, Who says we don't? But he didn't. Instead of saying that, he looked at the extra and said, "I'm straight. So it's not a problem for me." He nodded and turned away. He walked to his trailer, climbed the little stairs, opened the door, and stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and was gone.
Randy looked at the extra and raised a brow. "Sorry about him. He's not usually like that. And um...to answer your question, I guess I'd have to say the same cliche bullshit I tell all the reporters. It's just acting, you know? Sure, it happens sometimes, even with Mr. Straight in there," he joked, pointing at Gale's trailer, "but for the most part it's not even an issue."
The extra looked slightly disappointed, like he'd been expecting illicit behind the scenes details. Randy shook the guy's hand and waited until he'd walked away. Then he turned and headed immediately for Gale's trailer. He entered without knocking.
Gale looked up from his place on the couch. He was holding a lit cigarette between his fingers. He'd already changed out of Brian's jeans and into his own. He hadn't buttoned them yet, and he didn't look like he was in a hurry to do so. His white tee-shirt was rumpled and wrinkled. "Don't you knock?"
"I never knock," Randy answered implacably and closed the door behind him, "so why would I start now?" He leaned against the door and crossed his arms. "Do you want me to leave?"
"Now why would I want that?" Gale asked the question sarcastically, gesturing with his burning cigarette. Then he put it to his mouth and inhaled deeply.
Randy sighed. "Because I know you."
"What does that have to do with--"
"You've got that look on your face, and you're attacking your cig like it has somehow offended you."
Gale looked down at his cigarette in surprise, but he only said, "What do you want, Blondie?"
Randy said the first thing that came to mind. He would realize very soon that it was the wrong thing. "You know, coming out in Hollywood is not as hard as it used to be."
The older man stared blankly and said, "We're not in Hollywood. We're in Tor-fucking-onto."
"You know what I mean."
"Yes, I do. But I am wondering why you're saying it."
This was going to be the hard part, Randy knew. As it always was. "That kiss, Gale...and the way you told that extra off. It was like how you fucking twitched when that asshole Larry King said on air that you were another straight member of the cast."
"I did not fucking twitch."
"You did. I was sitting right next to you."
"I wouldn't bring up that interview if I were you," Gale shot back. "Remember your little declaration in the middle? Gave fangirls around the nation a spontaneous orgasm? Fuck, Randy."
"That was a joke," Randy replied, his voice rising in volume.
"Didn't seem like one."
"You laughed."
"What the fuck else could I have done?!" Gale shoved to his feet and advanced a step.
"We've talked about this, Gale. I'm done talking about that, that's the past. We're talking about you here."
"Why are we talking at all?"
"Because we're supposed to be friends!" Randy yelled. He couldn't stop himself as he continued, "You're at my place three times a week, at least, when you can't sleep! I fucking stay up with you, smoke with you! If that's not a goddamned friend then I don't know what is."
Gale took a half-step back and leaned down to violently stub the cigarette out in the ashtray. "Okay. So as a friend I'm telling you what I've told you before: I'm not gay, Randy."
Without thinking Randy exploded, "You've fucked guys!"
"And you've fucked girls," Gale replied, almost wearily. "That didn't seem to make you any straighter."
"Those were just...experiments. They made me realize who I really was."
Gale smiled slightly and tilted his head. "You realize you just made my point for me, don't you?"
Randy ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "I don't buy it."
"You don't need to buy it for it to be true." Gale shook another cigarette out of his pack and lit it. He took a pull and briefly closed his eyes as the smile faded from his face. "I'm tired, Rand. I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow." He stood and gathered his things. "Let's...let's just forget about today, okay? I'm good if you're good." Then he left, nothing more to say.
Randy watched him go and plopped down on the couch. This wasn't a particularly unusual occurrence--Gale bailing when the going got hard, or the conversation got serious. But this was different. That kiss. What did that mean? He lay down on Gale's ratty old couch and closed his eyes to think. It's not like he'd never felt Gale's tongue in his mouth, but this was...goddamnit, this was different. He could feel it. This kiss. This kiss was...
He didn't realize he was drifting off to sleep, but soon he was under and lightly snoring on the couch in Gale's trailer.
Pairing: Gale Harold/Randy Harrison
Rating: R for language and sexual references
Warnings: If RPS or M/M fics make you squeamish, I wouldn't read this.
Disclaimer: I claim no knowledge of any type of relationship between Gale Harold and Randy Harrison. All aspects of their personal lives in this story are, to my knowledge, completely fictional.
Words: 1,678
Beta: None. Any and all mistakes are mine.
This is my first Gale/Randy fic...I've been obsessed with QAF for awhile now, and I just had to write something between these two amazing actors. I've also created a community for Gale/Randy fans, noplace_special , where we can share fics, fanart, fanvids, etc. Come join if you're interested!
And thanks in advance for reading.
"Last shot of the day, everybody! Before we get started--or done, thank God," the director added with a small laugh, "we wanted to thank all the actors and extras for hanging around for this. It's a small shot, but it's important for the last scene." She snuck around to behind the cameras and pointed at Gale and Randy. "You're up, boys. Make it good."
They nodded and headed into the middle of the "back room" of the Babylon set.
"Gale," the director called. "Shirt."
He looked down at his somewhat plain--plain for Brian, anyway--button-up long sleeved shirt. "What about it?"
Randy poked him in the ribs. "You're not supposed to be wearing one, genius."
Without hesitation Gale nodded and casually unbuttoned the shirt. He stripped it off and held it up. "Where you want it?"
The new extras laughed a little at his nonchalant attitude, but the regulars were used to it. Gale was anything but shy.
"The floor's fine," the director answered. "We might want it in the shot, though, so somewhere near your feet."
Gale dropped the shirt next to his feet and turned to Randy. He held out his arms. "Kiss me, you fool!" He mocked.
Randy laughed and, for what felt like the millionth time, wrapped himself around him.
They started kissing before the director called Action!, which was normal. They wanted it to look real, like they were in the middle of a hot make-out session.
But what wasn't normal about this particular kiss was that not only did it look real, but it felt real. Gale cradled Randy's head gently in his hands and played with the ends of the long blonde hair. Their tongues touched almost hesitantly at first--surprising, considering the number of times they'd seen each other naked--but after a few seconds Randy felt something shift between them. Physically, yes, but it was more than that.
Gale ran his left arm down Randy's side and let it settle on the younger man's hip. Their tongues danced in midair between their open mouths and suddenly--neither of them had any concept of time, so it could have been seconds or minutes later--they heard the director say, "Um, boys?"
They kept going. Randy's hands pulled on Gale to move him closer.
Then, the magic words that woke them up. "Guys! I called cut."
They abruptly broke away from each other and stared at opposite walls. Both of them were panting.
The set was deathly quiet. All of the extras, even the regulars, were staring at the two men like they'd just grown extra heads.
Gale recovered first. He bent over to pick the shirt up off the floor. "I need a smoke. We done here?" He was speaking to the director, but he could still feel Randy vibrating next to him. They were no longer touching, but Gale could still feel him. He needed to get out of there.
The director said, "You guys should see this. It's...amazing."
The two men glanced at each other and then quickly looked away. Randy said, "Okay, I guess."
Gale wanted nothing more than to say no, but he knew that would create even more talk around set. He was sure the rumor mills would already be spinning after that kiss, and he didn't want to make it worse. So he followed Randy to where the director was standing, behind the cameras.
"Play it back," the director told the man standing next to her.
He pushed some buttons on the side of the camera and suddenly Gale and Randy saw themselves on the tiny hooded screen. No, Gale corrected himself. Not Gale and Randy. That's Brian and Justin. But as many times as he said it, he couldn't make it ring true.
Randy watched himself on the screen--something he never liked to do--and felt his heart pick up speed. He cleared his throat and carefully fixed his gaze on a place right next to the camera, so it looked like he was watching. But he wasn't. He couldn't. When the screen went black, the cameraman whistled through his teeth.
Randy said, "Wow."
Gale said nothing.
The director put a hand on each of their shoulders and squeezed. "You guys are fucking amazing. One take, only one take. Perfect. Incredible."
They took the compliment in stride and escaped. The walk to their trailers--which were side-by-side--was painfully quiet. They carefully avoided looking at each other.
When they were thirty seconds away from respective peace and quiet, a beefy, shirtless extra with glitter all over his shaved chest stepped in front of them. "Hey, guys."
Randy said, "Hey. What's up? She doesn't need us back, does she? 'Cause fuck, I'm done." He knew the director didn't want them back, and if she did, she wouldn't have sent an extra to tell them. But he figured this was the fastest way to get to the solitude of his trailer.
The guy shook his head. "Nah, nah, I just wanted to ask you guys something, if you don't mind. If you do, just let me know, you know? 'Cause I'm a big fan and everything, of the show I mean, and you guys are fucking incredible. I completely lucked out getting this gig, because I've always wanted to meet you. I mean, all your scenes together, your chemistry and everything..."
Randy and Gale let him ramble on for a few moments before Gale interrupted, "Cool, so what was your question?" He usually wasn't so brief with fans--extras or not--but he didn't feel like dealing with it tonight.
Randy noticed and gave his friend a sidelong look.
The extra nodded, unfazed. "I was wondering...and you know, like I said, you don't have to answer if you don't wanna. But...how do you guys do those sex scenes without getting hard?"
Usually Gale would have said something sarcastic like, Who says we don't? But he didn't. Instead of saying that, he looked at the extra and said, "I'm straight. So it's not a problem for me." He nodded and turned away. He walked to his trailer, climbed the little stairs, opened the door, and stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and was gone.
Randy looked at the extra and raised a brow. "Sorry about him. He's not usually like that. And um...to answer your question, I guess I'd have to say the same cliche bullshit I tell all the reporters. It's just acting, you know? Sure, it happens sometimes, even with Mr. Straight in there," he joked, pointing at Gale's trailer, "but for the most part it's not even an issue."
The extra looked slightly disappointed, like he'd been expecting illicit behind the scenes details. Randy shook the guy's hand and waited until he'd walked away. Then he turned and headed immediately for Gale's trailer. He entered without knocking.
Gale looked up from his place on the couch. He was holding a lit cigarette between his fingers. He'd already changed out of Brian's jeans and into his own. He hadn't buttoned them yet, and he didn't look like he was in a hurry to do so. His white tee-shirt was rumpled and wrinkled. "Don't you knock?"
"I never knock," Randy answered implacably and closed the door behind him, "so why would I start now?" He leaned against the door and crossed his arms. "Do you want me to leave?"
"Now why would I want that?" Gale asked the question sarcastically, gesturing with his burning cigarette. Then he put it to his mouth and inhaled deeply.
Randy sighed. "Because I know you."
"What does that have to do with--"
"You've got that look on your face, and you're attacking your cig like it has somehow offended you."
Gale looked down at his cigarette in surprise, but he only said, "What do you want, Blondie?"
Randy said the first thing that came to mind. He would realize very soon that it was the wrong thing. "You know, coming out in Hollywood is not as hard as it used to be."
The older man stared blankly and said, "We're not in Hollywood. We're in Tor-fucking-onto."
"You know what I mean."
"Yes, I do. But I am wondering why you're saying it."
This was going to be the hard part, Randy knew. As it always was. "That kiss, Gale...and the way you told that extra off. It was like how you fucking twitched when that asshole Larry King said on air that you were another straight member of the cast."
"I did not fucking twitch."
"You did. I was sitting right next to you."
"I wouldn't bring up that interview if I were you," Gale shot back. "Remember your little declaration in the middle? Gave fangirls around the nation a spontaneous orgasm? Fuck, Randy."
"That was a joke," Randy replied, his voice rising in volume.
"Didn't seem like one."
"You laughed."
"What the fuck else could I have done?!" Gale shoved to his feet and advanced a step.
"We've talked about this, Gale. I'm done talking about that, that's the past. We're talking about you here."
"Why are we talking at all?"
"Because we're supposed to be friends!" Randy yelled. He couldn't stop himself as he continued, "You're at my place three times a week, at least, when you can't sleep! I fucking stay up with you, smoke with you! If that's not a goddamned friend then I don't know what is."
Gale took a half-step back and leaned down to violently stub the cigarette out in the ashtray. "Okay. So as a friend I'm telling you what I've told you before: I'm not gay, Randy."
Without thinking Randy exploded, "You've fucked guys!"
"And you've fucked girls," Gale replied, almost wearily. "That didn't seem to make you any straighter."
"Those were just...experiments. They made me realize who I really was."
Gale smiled slightly and tilted his head. "You realize you just made my point for me, don't you?"
Randy ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "I don't buy it."
"You don't need to buy it for it to be true." Gale shook another cigarette out of his pack and lit it. He took a pull and briefly closed his eyes as the smile faded from his face. "I'm tired, Rand. I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow." He stood and gathered his things. "Let's...let's just forget about today, okay? I'm good if you're good." Then he left, nothing more to say.
Randy watched him go and plopped down on the couch. This wasn't a particularly unusual occurrence--Gale bailing when the going got hard, or the conversation got serious. But this was different. That kiss. What did that mean? He lay down on Gale's ratty old couch and closed his eyes to think. It's not like he'd never felt Gale's tongue in his mouth, but this was...goddamnit, this was different. He could feel it. This kiss. This kiss was...
He didn't realize he was drifting off to sleep, but soon he was under and lightly snoring on the couch in Gale's trailer.