[Star Wars RPS] Parenthetical Asides: (Loving You's) A Long Way From Here
Title: (Loving You's) A Long Way From Here
Pairing: Ewan/Hayden
Rating: R
Word Count: 1700
Summary: Hayden may not know what's going on with him and Ewan, but one thing he does know is that he really fucking hates Batman.
Notes: Written for a lyric challenge using "Alone" by Susan Tedeschi. This is also the first in a three part series. Read part two and part three.
Originally Posted: June 9, 2005
(Loving You's) A Long Way From Here
go on and make your mind up
The first thing he does when he wakes up in the morning is jerk off in the shower thinking about Ewan. It's really fucking disgusting when he thinks about it, because Ewan is someone's dad, he has kids, and Hayden has played with those kids. And now he's leaning against the steamy door of a too-hot shower with his dick in hand, thinking about how fucking good it would be to slip it between their dad's lips and did he mention that it's really fucking sick?
His erection wanes.
He had this friend when he was fourteen, Michelle, and she used to come over all the time and make moony eyes at his dad. It took him a while to realize what was going on because Michelle had always been a little strange anyway, so her behaviour didn't seem like anything to worry about. It was only when she'd said, "Your dad's a very attractive man, Hayden," in that overly adult way of hers that he'd figured it out and never invited her over again. It had been weeks before he could jerk off without thinking about Michelle thinking about his dad and for a teenager riding the rising tide of puberty, it was fucking torture.
His erection wilts.
It doesn't really bother him that Ewan is someone's husband because it's never bothered him before. Not with Pam Anderson, who got him through the spring he turned fifteen while she was married to Tommy Lee; or Halle Berry, who warmed him through the winter he was seventeen even though she was married to that baseball player or whatever; or Heather Locklear, who still gets him off even though she's been married to that guy from Bon Jovi for fucking ever and despite the fact that she's probably old enough to be his mother.
Jesus Christ. Now he's thinking about his fucking mother.
His dick gives up.
i was so wrong
He's sacked out on the couch in an old pair of boxers and a faded t-shirt from his parents' business, flipping channels on the TV while he waits for the pizza guy to come. Some stupid commercial (for Canadian Idol of all things, and he adds Kalan Porter to the running list of things he hates today) reminds him why he stumbled bleary eyed into the shower in the first place: he had some stupid dream about Ewan. They were out at the ocean and the water was blue, so blue, like the background for the Idol logo that even in his dream he knew it was unreal. He was afraid to go in, but Ewan was already running headlong into the waves, hollering that it was cold, man, but so fucking worth it and would he hurry up and just come in already.
Hayden had stood on the shore, unwilling to get even his feet wet, and then it had started snowing. Ewan had laughed and made some stupid joke about wishes and horses before he swam away, and Hayden remembers thinking Ewan had swum right off the edge of the world.
The pizza guy finally rings the doorbell and Hayden goes to collect his pies, vaguely thinking of calling Natalie to tell her about his dream. She's always been good with stuff like that, symbolism and the unconscious and all that other shit they teach her at her fancy Ivy League school that she loves to show off. She'd say it was subtext, because that's been her new favourite word since they started shooting Sith and he doesn't think he's gotten through a conversation with her since where she hasn't mentioned it.
And as soon as he hears it in Natalie's voice, he hears it in Ewan's, after Hayden had complained that the first draft of the script made Anakin and Obi-Wan look a little...you know. Ewan had laughed and said, "It's subtext -- didn't they teach you about that in secondary?" Hayden must have just looked even more confused because Ewan had swatted his behind and said, "I wouldn't let George hear you say that if I were you."
The next day, Natalie had taped a SUBTEXT = BUTTSEX sign on the mirror in his trailer and Ewan had come up behind him after lunch and rubbed his fucking cock up against Hayden's backside for no good reason. Hayden yelped and swore and Ewan had whispered, "Subtext," in his ear in that dirty fucking brogue of his, leaving Hayden standing in the middle of the set looking like a fool.
Ewan, meanwhile, had bounded up to Nick with his lightsaber and shouted, "En garde!"
Nick had picked up a nearby rod and parried Ewan's blow without even looking. "Don't make me take your eye out," he'd said with a sidelong look at Hayden. "Then you'd only be able to see half your willy and we all know how much you love your effing willy."
"You make no fucking sense, man," Ewan had said with a grin.
Nick had rolled his eyes and poked Ewan in the crotch. "Sod off."
Hayden's halfway through his first pizza before he realises it's fucking vegetarian and not at all what he ordered. He hangs his head in his hands, ready to call Natalie and bitch about having a fucking subtextual existential crisis over a pizza that isn't even fucking his. It's fucking ridiculous.
He goes to the kitchen to make a sandwich and passes the Darth Tater sitting on top of the TV on his way. He takes out its arm and stabs it viciously into its eye socket, thinking, "How's that for fucking subtext?"
been hoping i could meet you here
He's pretty much at loose ends for the rest of the summer now that his last film has wrapped and he's decided on taking some time to straighten his head out before he goes looking for the next thing to do. So far, he's spent a lot of time just like this, half dressed and sprawled out on the nearest available surface, watching TV or reading. He made it through the entirety of some Tolstoy something-or-other last week that he can't remember the plot or even the name of now and the week before that it was Moby Dick, which sucked.
…fucking subtext. Yeah, he really needs to get his head on straight.
The thing is, making Star Wars is a big fucking deal. It's a whole chunk of his life offered up to the annals of popular history and that's a hell of an idea to wrap his head around. It wasn't as big as the Lord of the Rings thing but probably only those guys know how it feels to take on a project like this. And if their post-Rings careers are anything to go by, Hayden doesn't feel particularly comforted. His options, as he sees them, are to be a little gay and a lot strange and fade off into obscurity like Elijah; to be a lot strange and a little coked out and get himself a TV show like Monaghan; to be fucking batshit insane like Viggo whatshisfuckingface and make obscure, esoteric films no one will ever understand; or to be a little dumb and a lot pretty and make consistently bad films like Orlando Bloom. He doesn't automatically qualify for any of those options and he doesn't exactly think he should aspire to, either.
This -- this is what he should be doing, he thinks, as another trailer comes on: fucking Batman, even though he hates Batman because he's both a lame superhero and fucking psychotic. But he's seen ads for Batman every five minutes for the past month, like they're advertising the movie as an actual blockbuster and Christian Bale as an actual A-lister. If moviegoers buy it, it'll be a fucking coup and Hayden can get behind that.
He's not good enough to be the actual hero, of course, but he makes a pretty good sidekick. And he's sure there isn't room for subtext in action-adventure films. He won't have to pretend to blow old men in Lexuses or have his co-stars shouting impassioned, same-sex declarations of love at him during climactic scenes. Just action and adventure and sex and fights and blowing shit up. It's what Christian Bale's doing now and what he's been doing. There's no fucking subtext in his career, just secret agents and threesomes with women and murders and fucking Shaft.
That's what Hayden's going to do: be Christian fucking Bale. And he's going to tell Ewan about it because this is all Ewan's fucking fault anyway because if Hayden just been able to rub one off in the shower this morning like he'd intended to, he probably wouldn't be feeling so fucking crazy this afternoon.
So he calls Ewan's mobile and gets the voicemail and says exactly what he needs to say. "I'm never fucking going swimming with you. Ever. And I had a fucking existential crisis over a fucking vegetarian pizza -- if you're going to eat a pizza, what's the point of eating a vegetarian one, anyway? -- that was your fault and Heather Locklear's. Moby Dick sucked; my Tater has a fucking arm where his eye should be, which is the only thing that made my day worth waking up for; and I'm going to be Christian fucking Bale because there's no fucking room for subtext in Batman.
"…that's all. Have a good show."
The bad news is that he knows he sounds fucking batshit insane and makes a mental note to tell his agent to start looking for obscure, esoteric scripts that no one will understand. The really bad news is that he doesn't realize until he's hung up and it's too late to erase the message that Ewan's told him about snogging the everloving shit out of Christian Bale on some rooftop somewhere for Velvet Goldmine. Ewan's gonna laugh when he hears the message and then he's gonna call Hayden back and ask him what the bloody hell that was all about anyway, and Hayden…hell, Hayden doesn't even know.
The only thing he does know is that he really, really fucking hates Batman.
Pairing: Ewan/Hayden
Rating: R
Word Count: 1700
Summary: Hayden may not know what's going on with him and Ewan, but one thing he does know is that he really fucking hates Batman.
Notes: Written for a lyric challenge using "Alone" by Susan Tedeschi. This is also the first in a three part series. Read part two and part three.
Originally Posted: June 9, 2005
(Loving You's) A Long Way From Here
go on and make your mind up
The first thing he does when he wakes up in the morning is jerk off in the shower thinking about Ewan. It's really fucking disgusting when he thinks about it, because Ewan is someone's dad, he has kids, and Hayden has played with those kids. And now he's leaning against the steamy door of a too-hot shower with his dick in hand, thinking about how fucking good it would be to slip it between their dad's lips and did he mention that it's really fucking sick?
His erection wanes.
He had this friend when he was fourteen, Michelle, and she used to come over all the time and make moony eyes at his dad. It took him a while to realize what was going on because Michelle had always been a little strange anyway, so her behaviour didn't seem like anything to worry about. It was only when she'd said, "Your dad's a very attractive man, Hayden," in that overly adult way of hers that he'd figured it out and never invited her over again. It had been weeks before he could jerk off without thinking about Michelle thinking about his dad and for a teenager riding the rising tide of puberty, it was fucking torture.
His erection wilts.
It doesn't really bother him that Ewan is someone's husband because it's never bothered him before. Not with Pam Anderson, who got him through the spring he turned fifteen while she was married to Tommy Lee; or Halle Berry, who warmed him through the winter he was seventeen even though she was married to that baseball player or whatever; or Heather Locklear, who still gets him off even though she's been married to that guy from Bon Jovi for fucking ever and despite the fact that she's probably old enough to be his mother.
Jesus Christ. Now he's thinking about his fucking mother.
His dick gives up.
i was so wrong
He's sacked out on the couch in an old pair of boxers and a faded t-shirt from his parents' business, flipping channels on the TV while he waits for the pizza guy to come. Some stupid commercial (for Canadian Idol of all things, and he adds Kalan Porter to the running list of things he hates today) reminds him why he stumbled bleary eyed into the shower in the first place: he had some stupid dream about Ewan. They were out at the ocean and the water was blue, so blue, like the background for the Idol logo that even in his dream he knew it was unreal. He was afraid to go in, but Ewan was already running headlong into the waves, hollering that it was cold, man, but so fucking worth it and would he hurry up and just come in already.
Hayden had stood on the shore, unwilling to get even his feet wet, and then it had started snowing. Ewan had laughed and made some stupid joke about wishes and horses before he swam away, and Hayden remembers thinking Ewan had swum right off the edge of the world.
The pizza guy finally rings the doorbell and Hayden goes to collect his pies, vaguely thinking of calling Natalie to tell her about his dream. She's always been good with stuff like that, symbolism and the unconscious and all that other shit they teach her at her fancy Ivy League school that she loves to show off. She'd say it was subtext, because that's been her new favourite word since they started shooting Sith and he doesn't think he's gotten through a conversation with her since where she hasn't mentioned it.
And as soon as he hears it in Natalie's voice, he hears it in Ewan's, after Hayden had complained that the first draft of the script made Anakin and Obi-Wan look a little...you know. Ewan had laughed and said, "It's subtext -- didn't they teach you about that in secondary?" Hayden must have just looked even more confused because Ewan had swatted his behind and said, "I wouldn't let George hear you say that if I were you."
The next day, Natalie had taped a SUBTEXT = BUTTSEX sign on the mirror in his trailer and Ewan had come up behind him after lunch and rubbed his fucking cock up against Hayden's backside for no good reason. Hayden yelped and swore and Ewan had whispered, "Subtext," in his ear in that dirty fucking brogue of his, leaving Hayden standing in the middle of the set looking like a fool.
Ewan, meanwhile, had bounded up to Nick with his lightsaber and shouted, "En garde!"
Nick had picked up a nearby rod and parried Ewan's blow without even looking. "Don't make me take your eye out," he'd said with a sidelong look at Hayden. "Then you'd only be able to see half your willy and we all know how much you love your effing willy."
"You make no fucking sense, man," Ewan had said with a grin.
Nick had rolled his eyes and poked Ewan in the crotch. "Sod off."
Hayden's halfway through his first pizza before he realises it's fucking vegetarian and not at all what he ordered. He hangs his head in his hands, ready to call Natalie and bitch about having a fucking subtextual existential crisis over a pizza that isn't even fucking his. It's fucking ridiculous.
He goes to the kitchen to make a sandwich and passes the Darth Tater sitting on top of the TV on his way. He takes out its arm and stabs it viciously into its eye socket, thinking, "How's that for fucking subtext?"
been hoping i could meet you here
He's pretty much at loose ends for the rest of the summer now that his last film has wrapped and he's decided on taking some time to straighten his head out before he goes looking for the next thing to do. So far, he's spent a lot of time just like this, half dressed and sprawled out on the nearest available surface, watching TV or reading. He made it through the entirety of some Tolstoy something-or-other last week that he can't remember the plot or even the name of now and the week before that it was Moby Dick, which sucked.
…fucking subtext. Yeah, he really needs to get his head on straight.
The thing is, making Star Wars is a big fucking deal. It's a whole chunk of his life offered up to the annals of popular history and that's a hell of an idea to wrap his head around. It wasn't as big as the Lord of the Rings thing but probably only those guys know how it feels to take on a project like this. And if their post-Rings careers are anything to go by, Hayden doesn't feel particularly comforted. His options, as he sees them, are to be a little gay and a lot strange and fade off into obscurity like Elijah; to be a lot strange and a little coked out and get himself a TV show like Monaghan; to be fucking batshit insane like Viggo whatshisfuckingface and make obscure, esoteric films no one will ever understand; or to be a little dumb and a lot pretty and make consistently bad films like Orlando Bloom. He doesn't automatically qualify for any of those options and he doesn't exactly think he should aspire to, either.
This -- this is what he should be doing, he thinks, as another trailer comes on: fucking Batman, even though he hates Batman because he's both a lame superhero and fucking psychotic. But he's seen ads for Batman every five minutes for the past month, like they're advertising the movie as an actual blockbuster and Christian Bale as an actual A-lister. If moviegoers buy it, it'll be a fucking coup and Hayden can get behind that.
He's not good enough to be the actual hero, of course, but he makes a pretty good sidekick. And he's sure there isn't room for subtext in action-adventure films. He won't have to pretend to blow old men in Lexuses or have his co-stars shouting impassioned, same-sex declarations of love at him during climactic scenes. Just action and adventure and sex and fights and blowing shit up. It's what Christian Bale's doing now and what he's been doing. There's no fucking subtext in his career, just secret agents and threesomes with women and murders and fucking Shaft.
That's what Hayden's going to do: be Christian fucking Bale. And he's going to tell Ewan about it because this is all Ewan's fucking fault anyway because if Hayden just been able to rub one off in the shower this morning like he'd intended to, he probably wouldn't be feeling so fucking crazy this afternoon.
So he calls Ewan's mobile and gets the voicemail and says exactly what he needs to say. "I'm never fucking going swimming with you. Ever. And I had a fucking existential crisis over a fucking vegetarian pizza -- if you're going to eat a pizza, what's the point of eating a vegetarian one, anyway? -- that was your fault and Heather Locklear's. Moby Dick sucked; my Tater has a fucking arm where his eye should be, which is the only thing that made my day worth waking up for; and I'm going to be Christian fucking Bale because there's no fucking room for subtext in Batman.
"…that's all. Have a good show."
The bad news is that he knows he sounds fucking batshit insane and makes a mental note to tell his agent to start looking for obscure, esoteric scripts that no one will understand. The really bad news is that he doesn't realize until he's hung up and it's too late to erase the message that Ewan's told him about snogging the everloving shit out of Christian Bale on some rooftop somewhere for Velvet Goldmine. Ewan's gonna laugh when he hears the message and then he's gonna call Hayden back and ask him what the bloody hell that was all about anyway, and Hayden…hell, Hayden doesn't even know.
The only thing he does know is that he really, really fucking hates Batman.