fic: paradigms [zach in the city, 1/6]
Title: Paradigms [Zach in the City, 1/6]
Fandom: ST RPF
Rating: PG-13 (eventual NC-17)
Pairings: Zach/Chris, Zach/Jesse Tyler Ferguson
Word Count: ~4400 of ~28k (completed, but staggered posting)
Summary: Zach builds himself a life in New York. (AO3)
Notes: This is technically a completed fic -- I'm staggering the posting because it's pretty freaking long by my standards. Six parts, every Tuesday and Thursday for the next few weeks.
Nancy and Lionel are OCs; Corey Moosa (@coreymoosa) and Neal Dodson (@nealdodson) are ZQ's bffs from CMU and his partners in their production company Before the Door (@beforethedoor); you may know Jesse Tyler Ferguson (@jessetyler) from ABC's Modern Family, along with his co-star Eric Stonestreet (@ericstonestreet). Really, any confusion re: RL details can be solved via quick googling.
So many, many, many thanks to
waldorph and zlot and everyone who has had to listen to me whine/bitch/brainstorm about this monster for the past four months.
This particular section is set at the end of March/beginning of April, 2010.
Nancy was part of his social media team (why, why did he need one -- oh right, because strangers cared about him, like, a lot, that was weird) and his favorite publicist.
Sure, he had some firm representing him that worked with his agent and managed all his appearances and told him to purchase at least one non-periwinkle bag for his yoga mat, but they were boring and annoying.
Nancy's advice on maintaining his image came along the lines of:
"I'd only care about your fucking guys if there was a sex tape. Is there a sex tape? It'd be hot. Lionel and I would -- well, look, never mind, point is: sex tape. Are they really passe?"
Or:
"Zeeq" -- they corresponded mostly in e-mails and texts, which he signed 'zq', and so in these rare real life encounters, she turned it into "Zeeq" pronounced "Zeke", and it was kind of adorable -- "Where did you get that bag? I could carry so much yarn in it."
Or, on this particular day:
"Omigosh you want to update your Twitter account?"
"Yeah, is it hard?" he asks.
"Easy as pie," she replies, and she grabs his phone out of his hands and zooms over to the app store to make things happen. "I thought you might, you know, after Neal and Moosa were sharing their boners about it. Tyler, too. Aw," she pauses to look at him sentimentally. "You're the last of the boyfriends to use Twitter!"
"Well, I've had it --"
She snorts and turns back to his phone. "Mmm, okay, so I'm downloading a few clients for you to try out -- find the one you like, love it forever, or search for more, up to you. Your homework --"
He sighs dramatically and she elbows him. Lionel, her husband, comes in and waves at them.
"Your wife's downloading things onto my phone, Lionel," Zach explains.
"Better not be porn," Lionel calls back. "Very strict clause in our contract, where I get to divorce her and take her whole Sandman collection if she's unfaithful."
"I'm only technologically unfaithful," she replies, "And anyway, it's for money."
"That makes it better," Lionel says.
Zach regrets that he doesn't come visit the freak show often enough.
"Anyway," Nancy says with another nudge to Zach's ribs. "Your homework on the plane is to buy some of that overpriced internet and start tweeting your little heart out. Or, you know, before you leave."
"Definitely before," Zach decides. "Those eight dollars for plane internet can buy at least one semi-delicious cocktail."
"God, it's not even free in business class, what's the world coming to," Nancy sighs. "Anyway, you're all ready." She hands the phone over and he begins poking and sliding at the screen and entering passwords left and right. "So what brought the sudden change about? Are my informative tweets not good enough for you anymore?"
"I'm offended you could even think that," Zach says. "No, actually, I'm kind of going to New York. For like… two months. At least."
"And you wanted to keep in touch with your legions of minions! That's so adorable!"
"Well, I guess, maybe? I don't know, and keep in touch with people I actually know, too," he stammers.
"Oh my God, Lionel, are you listening to this," she calls. "How fucking genuine is this bitch?"
"Salt of the earth, babe," Lionel says. "Spinach tonight?"
"Yes, please." Nancy turns back to Zach and pats his arm excitedly. "What I mean is: you miss your friends! And you're going to miss them more when you're 3,000 miles from them! And you want to keep in touch with them in a place where like, 100,000 people can see you care! God, why isn't Pine on Twitter yet? Does he even have a computer?"
"Uhh, probably? We text all the time; his Blackberry is practically a second cock," Zach says.
"He'll have no excuse," Nancy replies. "They'll have their own client -- wait, why are you still here? Go! Go do fun things and then tweet about them! Have fun in New York and I'll keep down the electronic fort, promise."
Zach leaves and, as usual when he sees Nancy, he's exponentially more confused than if he had just stayed home.
Two days later, he retweets something on his computer and about 40 seconds later gets a text that says WHY AREN'T YOU USING YOUR PHONE. WHY ARE YOU PIMPING A LIFETIME MOVIE. OH MY GOD, ZQ. STOP BEING SO OLD AND MENOPAUSAL.
The process of weaning himself off the computer and onto a more mobile lifestyle becomes easier after a few furious texts that use more variations of the term "douche" than he thought existed.
*
"Yup?" Zach asks as he answers Chris's call on the way to his last yoga class.
"Concert tonight? It's that band you like with the name I can't pronounce even though I speak like, three languages."
"Okay, first of all, being able to say 'take me to pleasure town' in American Sign Language is horrifying and a little gross, and certainly doesn't make you fluent," Zach says. "If you also had a practical phrase like, 'Can I help you with your taxes' or --"
"The lube is in my nightstand?"
Zach snorts so hard he hurts something inside his face that he didn't know could get hurt.
"Anyway, what's this you have against deaf people? They need to get banged, too, and maybe they have hand kinks, too. They're people, Zach. You know that I know this because of my sensitive movie, Blind Dating. Anyway, you're so hateful."
"How do you do this every time," Zach laughs, "Calling me with something horrific and making me the bad guy?"
"It's your East Coast Puritanical --"
"For the last time: there were no Puritans in Pittsburgh."
"Whatever. I think you need a concert and sex tonight."
"Not a sex concert?"
There's a pause and Chris says, "Ohhhh, you wanted me to make some awful joke about beautiful music we'd -- yeah, no, in fact, I now insist on a ball gag for you."
"Before you get too deeply invested in your mental Kinkfest 2010, I should probably mention: I can't. I'm flying to the 'Burgh to see my mom at the asscrack of dawn and then I'm going to New York."
"Oh," Chris says. "For how long? There's another --"
"Uh, like, eight weeks. The foreseeable future. I haven't bought a return yet."
"Oh."
Zach stares blankly ahead and snaps out of it when Chris laughs awkwardly.
"You should've given me more notice, you know. More than like, twelve hours. I would have thrown you a party, complete with emergency farewell topping."
"Really don't know how the Red Cross survived all those years without you."
"Meh." Chris clears his throat and asks, "So, New York. Random. Why?"
"Filming things, doing some other stuff. Also, I love New York. But mostly work."
"Oh really."
"Lots of work."
"Okay."
Zach arrives at his yoga studio and looks around, hesitating just hanging up on Chris like. Well. Just like that.
"Oh, hey," Zach remembers, "Did you get tickets to Tribeca? You should."
"Uh, no…"
"You should: it starts at the end of April and you should come. John and his wife are coming into town for it and -- you know, it should be fun."
"I don't know, I'll see. I've got a lot of shit to audition for."
"Well, okay. Then I'll see you when I see you. I've got a class now --"
"Zach, hold on, what's the fucking rush?"
"What rush?"
"Just. You know. 'Sorry, I have class and then I'm leaving for two months, later', and seriously, way to tell me."
"It didn't come up," Zach says, which isn't a lie because Zach worked really hard to not bring it up.
"You can be such a fucking dick sometimes -- correction. You are such a fucking dick sometimes."
"Gee, aren't you sweet. I wonder why I didn't tell you --"
"No, I know exactly why you didn't tell me, why all of a sudden you're packing up to get the fuck out for a while, and maybe I can see you in New York, but you know, in a safe setting with our friends and your New York friends and maybe the entire filmmaking community."
Zach is sulking and biting the inside of his lip. He's not subtle and Chris isn't wrong.
"You say all that like I've just made up all this work, all these projects I'm actually doing, just to spite you and seriously? Grow up."
"Grow up?" Chris says, but he's quiet and Zach actually doesn't like getting the last word -- not like that. "Why do you do this? Every time?"
"Every time what?" Zach sighs.
"Don't fucking even."
"Chris, I'd love to fight about whatever until the end of the world, really, but I --" Zach was about to let out a whole torrent of really bitchy things but stops himself because, actually, he doesn't enjoy being petty and mean to his best fucking friend who he sometimes want to punch into a coma. "Look, I'm sorry, but I've gotta go, okay?"
"Immediately or in a more existential sense?"
"I have yoga class."
"Okay, text me later if you want to hang out and if not, well. I'll see you when I see you."
"Think about Tribeca," Zach says, because it's a month away and maybe then he'll be able to stand being around Chris for a week.
"Yeah. I will. Have a good trip."
"Thanks, man, later."
*
Zach's instructor puts a hand on his shoulder after class and informs him that was the worst yoga he's ever seen from him.
"Yeah…" Zach says for about five seconds.
"Well, enjoy New York," his instructor says.
"Yeah, totally."
*
He gets home and finds a note from his brother, who has a night shoot and already picked up Noah and Harold for their extended vacation with Uncle Joe.
Zach looks around his empty house and laughs at himself for being so stupidly morose. He's really glad to be leaving it for two months. Lately, California has been suffocating, boring, full of earthquakes and too much stupid weather. He's glad to leave.
He considers calling Chris because another moment in his silent, empty house might literally kill him, but the idea of seeing Chris sends arches of discomfort up his back and he tries to suppress a full body shudder -- all amazing signs, right?
He eats, watches a few episodes of whatever is new on Hulu, takes a Xanax, and goes to bed at 7 pm.
*
Zach is slouching down uncomfortably in a seat outside Neal's gate at LAX, his hat brim blocking out most of the light and his back muscles whining about this new awful treatment after all that nice exercise the day before. His hands are clasped over his stomach and he's doing his best to force all his negative energy out before getting on that fucking plane for five trillion hours.
"Seriously, are you okay?" Neal asks after a while. "I just double dipped into your yogurt and you didn't even notice."
"Not hungry," Zach replies.
"Mmm," Neal says as he continues to eat Zach's breakfast. "Ugh, wheatgrass, how the fuck do you do this to yourself? Are the jeans really worth it?"
When Zach shrugs, he realizes he's being a little bitch. He tips his hat up slightly and glances at Neal. "Sorry, just really glad to be getting out of here."
"Happens," Neal says with a shrug right back.
Zach leans on his hand and watches Neal eat for a few moments, and then asks quickly, "Can I talk to you about Chris?"
"Yeah, why not. Is he coming to Tribeca?"
"Don't know, whatever, but we've been fucking for like. Um. A really long time, actually. Like more than a year."
Truthfully, he expected Neal to be a little more shocked, but Neal only sucks a bit of yogurt from the edge of his finger and nods.
"Corey told me, you dickface."
"Well, I didn't tell Corey, he just kind of. Found us."
"Oh God."
"On my --"
"Not necessary," Neal says as he focuses his eyes steadily on the bottom of the fruit-and-yogurt thing in search of escape or a blueberry. "He told me. Sorry. It's the reason Chris pulled out of that thing about the hipster astronauts, right?"
"Oh, no, that was because it wasn't funny," Zach replies. Neal looks offended (whatever, his girlfriends could never write for shit anyway, why was she any different?) and turns back to his fruit cup. "Obviously we weren't exclusive or anything. It just."
Neal glances over, pops another strawberry into his mouth, and waits expectantly for what Zach is going to say. Zach leans over a little more and asks into Neal's ear, "Okay, so you know those moments when you're fucking someone and it suddenly, like. Isn't just fucking anymore?"
"What, the wide, deep, meaningful eyes, the spiritual connection --"
"Yeah, except every time that happens to us we just. Freeze up. And I'd go pick up guys and he'd step out with some woman again -- or hell, he'd pick up some guys, too -- and then we'd slowly get into it again, and then --"
"Vicious cycle?"
"Oh my God, we get so vicious," Zach agrees. "And like. It's casual. We don't want more."
"Except…"
"Except. You know. He does now. He does, I know he does. No, okay. Once or twice, I was the one who said, hey, let's be boyfriends and he ran the hell off, but lately it's been all him and I can't."
"How come?" Neal asks. "Have you seen you two out with other people? It's like The Zach and Chris Show and no one has a chance with either of you, ever."
"What, so I should just go out with him seriously because --"
"Because you really want to? And if Chris flakes then he flakes, and you have a good reason for never trying it again, and maybe you can stop fucking him and start shopping around for a real guy."
"Uh, no," Zach replies, and he snatches the fruit-and-yogurt from Neal and digs at the bottom for something he spotted. "Maybe you and everyone else on the planet are okay with that, but I really don't want Chris."
Neal looks at him with a whole lot of skepticism and Zach does something with his shoulders to convey he's totally, really serious because he totally, really is.
"He's funny and he's great in bed, but none of that adds up to being a good boyfriend," Zach says.
"Wow, he sure fooled us," Neal says dryly. "With his being awesome and everything."
"I can do better," Zach says.
"Better how? More bendy, brain dead models? Look, I'm just telling you what I know," Neal begins and apparently he's charging a fee for this wisdom he's about to lay down because he takes the contested yogurt cup back. "Moosa will back me up on this because our best relationships, the ones that lasted the longest? There's always this tiny corner you live with where you want to punch them all the time. It keeps things fun."
"What, like that Florence and the Machine song? Because that just sounds lazy."
"If I say yes, are you going to try and set fire to your bed? Please don't. Ma Quinto will never forgive me."
"You need to stop calling her that," Zach laughs. "Makes me feel like I'm on Little House on the fucking Prairie."
"Dude," Neal says with a look of total glee. "Let's fucking ironically reboot that shit."
*
His mom babies him for two days and then he's in New York, which greets him with more rain than he knows what to do with.
His apartment in the city is on the tenth floor of an awesome building, and he has a great view of this cute little park that, yeah, looks adorable even in the rain.
There's a balcony, too, and he stands in the doorway until his feet ache, just watching it rain on the NYU kids rushing from alcove to alcove until they get to the Bobst a few blocks away.
His reverie is interrupted by Corey calling about getting tickets for some ballet thing that night, and they get caught up talking about the shit they've been invited to every night and when they're actually going to be able to work while in the city.
*
He runs into his friend Jesse on his second night back in the city. It's been a while since they've seen each other, even though they both live and work in LA.
"You won't be offended if I say I didn't watch Heroes?" Jesse asks. "I've just. Uh. Not been…"
"It's cool," Zach laughs. "You just have to be an extra big Trekkie to make up for the slight to my vanity."
Jesse 'hmm's for a long time and Zach laughs, then throws his hands up. "Come on, man, I love Modern Family, you've gotta throw me a bone here."
"Honestly, I don't know if I can ever see Star Trek again," Jesse says. It's intermission at whatever play premieres that night, and they're both leaning against the bar with neglected cocktails at their elbows. As a rule -- well -- whatever -- he generally doesn't like beards but it works on Jesse. He'd be way more awkward and pale without it and damn, the boy is already as pale as one can get without actually being transparent or bioluminescent.
"How can you say that?" Zach asks. "It's so jam-packed with action and Chris not getting laid and my pointy ears!"
"The pointy ears were kind of adorable, as was the bowl cut, can't lie about that," and Zach knows that sip he takes of his drink, the 'hold on, I just said you were cute, you should ruminate on that for a minute while I think of the next witty thing to say' sip, and it really works. "Unfortunately, I already made the mistake of dating a Trekkie."
"Mistake?" Zach asks, arching one eyebrow delicately and deliberately.
"He, oh God, I can't even." Jesse rubs his face and sips from his drink again. "Okay, look, I can't watch it ever again because the guy I was dating at the time he, uh."
The lights flash, calling them back to their seats. Zach downs his drink and urges Jesse on, pointing to the light.
"Okay, okay, he asked I give him a handjob during the -- the free fall scene? With Chris and -- uh -- fuck -- John Cho!"
"Oh God," Zach coughs. "You didn't, did -- Jesse you did," Zach gasps, covering his mouth with both hands. "How am I going to -- John is coming up for Tribeca and fuck, how am I ever going to look him in the eyes?"
"You're -- I'm the one who gave the handjob!" Jesse protests. "I'm the one who should be full of shame and embarrassment!"
Zach stops on the stairs and puts a hand on Jesse's shoulder. He raises his eyebrow again and says, "But you're not. Oh, this is even more amazing than before."
As they split off into different sections of the mezzanine, Jesse opens his mouth to say something but just waves instead. Zach shoots him a grin that he hopes wasn't lost in the audience shuffle.
*
At an after party the next night, Zach drinks and flips through his e-mails while everyone else talks about -- well, whatever, he wouldn't be flipping through his phone if it was an interesting conversation.
It definitely wasn't because of how easily Zach is able to hijack it.
"Holy fucking crap," Zach says. "Leonard Nimoy --" He laughs and clutches his phone to his chest, then looks at the screen again. "Oh my God, he's on Twitter, this is the best day ever."
"Is it really him?" five people ask at once, trying to get to his phone, which he puts far, far away from them.
"Yes, he e-mailed me and ohhhhhh my God, this is amazing."
"This is your life, by the way," Corey says from across the table. "Leonard Nimoy is on Twitter and you're the second person to know."
Because even with three thousand miles and fifty years' difference in their ages and a trillion universes of experience between a handful of random young actors at a bar and a pair of octogenarian sci-fi legends, everyone still knows that Shatner is first.
It's early still (in his career, in his life, not the night), but Zach thinks he has too many best friends for people to do that about him.
"So ridiculous," Zach says, half out loud and half to himself. He finishes his e-mail and slides the phone back in his pocket.
*
He gets a call the next morning -- it's obscenely early but he was already up to head off to yoga.
It's Jesse, and that's weird. They haven't really been the calling type, just the, 'oh hey, we're both here, having been invited by other people, that's cool' type of friends. (Acquaintances? Yes, that's the word.)
"Hey, you're up, right? Didn't wake you? You said you're usually up this early."
"No, no, I was just headed out," Zach says, trying to button his jeans one handed before giving up and cradling the phone against his shoulder. "What's up?"
"Oh, well, you said something about being a, and I quote, 'lazy loaf of lazy' last night and I -- well, I run in Central Park most mornings and -- so, do you want to?"
Zach looks at his hips in the mirror and raises his eyebrow at his mirror image when Jesse says that.
"Oh. Uh. Thanks, that's so sweet -- but I'm actually on my way out to yoga --?"
"Right, okay, that's cool. Anyway, just thought I'd ask. I'll see you around."
"'kay, bye."
Zach really forgot he could... fluster someone besides Sylar and Spock fangirls. He considers it for another minute and then his phone rings again.
"Hey again," Zach says.
"I forgot to ask: breakfast? I could run over to you."
And he could, because it's New York and even if people do run in Los Angeles, there's no… running over. Is there? He's kind of too taken aback to remember.
"Uh, I have meetings in Midtown today and there's a little diner, the Skylight?"
"Yeah, the Skylight, in like two hours?"
"Perfect. See you."
*
Jesse's career has also been made recently by the double act. He's inextricably linked to someone who he thinks is much funnier and charming and all around amazing than he is -- and somehow, he's not in love with him.
Not that Zach is in love.
"He's one of my best friends," Jesse says as he picks at his toast. "It just -- it was never a question -- I mean that's the worst kind of straight guy fear, isn't it? That gay guys will pounce on anything with a dick so it's best to keep your distance? I mean, not that all straight guys are like that, but I think I've met too many who are." He stares out the window for a moment and then looks back at the toast and at Zach. "Anyway, yeah, you know what that's like, don't you? You're close with Captain Kirk, I hear."
"Ha, you hear, that's not ominous," Zach laughs.
"Who hasn't heard about Kirk and Spock and the bromance of ages?"
"Ugh, oh my God, if I never hear that word again it'll be too soon."
"Honestly, how does one enter a bromance?" Jesse muses. "Here I thought going to basketball games and telling everyone how much I love my TV husband was enough --"
"Hold on, mentally checking out of this conversation and checking in somewhere else -- anywhere else."
They laugh and it's cute like in a movie: the awkward kid and the -- honestly, Zach thinks he's the cool kid, but he becomes a little more awkward and spastic the longer he knows someone, and Jesse gets cooler and more comfortable. It's not fair (for him.)
But it's cute like a movie -- Zach leaning on his right hand while his left hand idly taps on the table and Jesse's across from him, his right hand just centimeters away. Their space has that tension before something happens, electric with the possibility of touching or not touching. It's not like they're going to maul each other on the table if they touch, or never speak again if they don't, but -- Zach's brain is broken, and he can only think of saccharine words like cute or sweet.
"Well," Jesse exhales. "I have to get to rehearsal."
"Oh?" Zach asks when he sees Jesse's hand withdraw and move under the table. "For…"
"Shakespeare in the Park, gosh, where have you been? I'm kind of a big deal."
He isn't, not really, and that makes him all the bigger.
"Yeah, I have to meet up with everyone. Yay, work."
"Yeah, work is fun," Jesse says.
"Let me get this," Zach says as he grabs the neglected check. "I'm not sure the staff needs to know where you keep your wallet when you're running."
"That's third date material right there," Jesse says, and he quickly rubs his face and groans a little. "Not that this --"
"No it's --"
"Is it more or less awkward in your 30s or 20s?" Jesse asks once he stops trying to sand his beard off with his hands. "This whole. Thing."
Zach slides out of the booth and adjusts his bag. "I'd like to do this again. Can I call you?"
"You're good," Jesse replies with what seems like genuine amazement. He slides out of the booth, too, looks down at his shoes and Jesus, he really has the oh-shucks blushing virgin thing down fucking pat. "And: please do."
Zach grins and gives Jesse's elbow a squeeze before he steps out of the diner, and he can't help but keep grinning because damn, he's still got it.
Fandom: ST RPF
Rating: PG-13 (eventual NC-17)
Pairings: Zach/Chris, Zach/Jesse Tyler Ferguson
Word Count: ~4400 of ~28k (completed, but staggered posting)
Summary: Zach builds himself a life in New York. (AO3)
Notes: This is technically a completed fic -- I'm staggering the posting because it's pretty freaking long by my standards. Six parts, every Tuesday and Thursday for the next few weeks.
Nancy and Lionel are OCs; Corey Moosa (@coreymoosa) and Neal Dodson (@nealdodson) are ZQ's bffs from CMU and his partners in their production company Before the Door (@beforethedoor); you may know Jesse Tyler Ferguson (@jessetyler) from ABC's Modern Family, along with his co-star Eric Stonestreet (@ericstonestreet). Really, any confusion re: RL details can be solved via quick googling.
So many, many, many thanks to
waldorph and zlot and everyone who has had to listen to me whine/bitch/brainstorm about this monster for the past four months.
This particular section is set at the end of March/beginning of April, 2010.
Nancy was part of his social media team (why, why did he need one -- oh right, because strangers cared about him, like, a lot, that was weird) and his favorite publicist.
Sure, he had some firm representing him that worked with his agent and managed all his appearances and told him to purchase at least one non-periwinkle bag for his yoga mat, but they were boring and annoying.
Nancy's advice on maintaining his image came along the lines of:
"I'd only care about your fucking guys if there was a sex tape. Is there a sex tape? It'd be hot. Lionel and I would -- well, look, never mind, point is: sex tape. Are they really passe?"
Or:
"Zeeq" -- they corresponded mostly in e-mails and texts, which he signed 'zq', and so in these rare real life encounters, she turned it into "Zeeq" pronounced "Zeke", and it was kind of adorable -- "Where did you get that bag? I could carry so much yarn in it."
Or, on this particular day:
"Omigosh you want to update your Twitter account?"
"Yeah, is it hard?" he asks.
"Easy as pie," she replies, and she grabs his phone out of his hands and zooms over to the app store to make things happen. "I thought you might, you know, after Neal and Moosa were sharing their boners about it. Tyler, too. Aw," she pauses to look at him sentimentally. "You're the last of the boyfriends to use Twitter!"
"Well, I've had it --"
She snorts and turns back to his phone. "Mmm, okay, so I'm downloading a few clients for you to try out -- find the one you like, love it forever, or search for more, up to you. Your homework --"
He sighs dramatically and she elbows him. Lionel, her husband, comes in and waves at them.
"Your wife's downloading things onto my phone, Lionel," Zach explains.
"Better not be porn," Lionel calls back. "Very strict clause in our contract, where I get to divorce her and take her whole Sandman collection if she's unfaithful."
"I'm only technologically unfaithful," she replies, "And anyway, it's for money."
"That makes it better," Lionel says.
Zach regrets that he doesn't come visit the freak show often enough.
"Anyway," Nancy says with another nudge to Zach's ribs. "Your homework on the plane is to buy some of that overpriced internet and start tweeting your little heart out. Or, you know, before you leave."
"Definitely before," Zach decides. "Those eight dollars for plane internet can buy at least one semi-delicious cocktail."
"God, it's not even free in business class, what's the world coming to," Nancy sighs. "Anyway, you're all ready." She hands the phone over and he begins poking and sliding at the screen and entering passwords left and right. "So what brought the sudden change about? Are my informative tweets not good enough for you anymore?"
"I'm offended you could even think that," Zach says. "No, actually, I'm kind of going to New York. For like… two months. At least."
"And you wanted to keep in touch with your legions of minions! That's so adorable!"
"Well, I guess, maybe? I don't know, and keep in touch with people I actually know, too," he stammers.
"Oh my God, Lionel, are you listening to this," she calls. "How fucking genuine is this bitch?"
"Salt of the earth, babe," Lionel says. "Spinach tonight?"
"Yes, please." Nancy turns back to Zach and pats his arm excitedly. "What I mean is: you miss your friends! And you're going to miss them more when you're 3,000 miles from them! And you want to keep in touch with them in a place where like, 100,000 people can see you care! God, why isn't Pine on Twitter yet? Does he even have a computer?"
"Uhh, probably? We text all the time; his Blackberry is practically a second cock," Zach says.
"He'll have no excuse," Nancy replies. "They'll have their own client -- wait, why are you still here? Go! Go do fun things and then tweet about them! Have fun in New York and I'll keep down the electronic fort, promise."
Zach leaves and, as usual when he sees Nancy, he's exponentially more confused than if he had just stayed home.
Two days later, he retweets something on his computer and about 40 seconds later gets a text that says WHY AREN'T YOU USING YOUR PHONE. WHY ARE YOU PIMPING A LIFETIME MOVIE. OH MY GOD, ZQ. STOP BEING SO OLD AND MENOPAUSAL.
The process of weaning himself off the computer and onto a more mobile lifestyle becomes easier after a few furious texts that use more variations of the term "douche" than he thought existed.
*
"Yup?" Zach asks as he answers Chris's call on the way to his last yoga class.
"Concert tonight? It's that band you like with the name I can't pronounce even though I speak like, three languages."
"Okay, first of all, being able to say 'take me to pleasure town' in American Sign Language is horrifying and a little gross, and certainly doesn't make you fluent," Zach says. "If you also had a practical phrase like, 'Can I help you with your taxes' or --"
"The lube is in my nightstand?"
Zach snorts so hard he hurts something inside his face that he didn't know could get hurt.
"Anyway, what's this you have against deaf people? They need to get banged, too, and maybe they have hand kinks, too. They're people, Zach. You know that I know this because of my sensitive movie, Blind Dating. Anyway, you're so hateful."
"How do you do this every time," Zach laughs, "Calling me with something horrific and making me the bad guy?"
"It's your East Coast Puritanical --"
"For the last time: there were no Puritans in Pittsburgh."
"Whatever. I think you need a concert and sex tonight."
"Not a sex concert?"
There's a pause and Chris says, "Ohhhh, you wanted me to make some awful joke about beautiful music we'd -- yeah, no, in fact, I now insist on a ball gag for you."
"Before you get too deeply invested in your mental Kinkfest 2010, I should probably mention: I can't. I'm flying to the 'Burgh to see my mom at the asscrack of dawn and then I'm going to New York."
"Oh," Chris says. "For how long? There's another --"
"Uh, like, eight weeks. The foreseeable future. I haven't bought a return yet."
"Oh."
Zach stares blankly ahead and snaps out of it when Chris laughs awkwardly.
"You should've given me more notice, you know. More than like, twelve hours. I would have thrown you a party, complete with emergency farewell topping."
"Really don't know how the Red Cross survived all those years without you."
"Meh." Chris clears his throat and asks, "So, New York. Random. Why?"
"Filming things, doing some other stuff. Also, I love New York. But mostly work."
"Oh really."
"Lots of work."
"Okay."
Zach arrives at his yoga studio and looks around, hesitating just hanging up on Chris like. Well. Just like that.
"Oh, hey," Zach remembers, "Did you get tickets to Tribeca? You should."
"Uh, no…"
"You should: it starts at the end of April and you should come. John and his wife are coming into town for it and -- you know, it should be fun."
"I don't know, I'll see. I've got a lot of shit to audition for."
"Well, okay. Then I'll see you when I see you. I've got a class now --"
"Zach, hold on, what's the fucking rush?"
"What rush?"
"Just. You know. 'Sorry, I have class and then I'm leaving for two months, later', and seriously, way to tell me."
"It didn't come up," Zach says, which isn't a lie because Zach worked really hard to not bring it up.
"You can be such a fucking dick sometimes -- correction. You are such a fucking dick sometimes."
"Gee, aren't you sweet. I wonder why I didn't tell you --"
"No, I know exactly why you didn't tell me, why all of a sudden you're packing up to get the fuck out for a while, and maybe I can see you in New York, but you know, in a safe setting with our friends and your New York friends and maybe the entire filmmaking community."
Zach is sulking and biting the inside of his lip. He's not subtle and Chris isn't wrong.
"You say all that like I've just made up all this work, all these projects I'm actually doing, just to spite you and seriously? Grow up."
"Grow up?" Chris says, but he's quiet and Zach actually doesn't like getting the last word -- not like that. "Why do you do this? Every time?"
"Every time what?" Zach sighs.
"Don't fucking even."
"Chris, I'd love to fight about whatever until the end of the world, really, but I --" Zach was about to let out a whole torrent of really bitchy things but stops himself because, actually, he doesn't enjoy being petty and mean to his best fucking friend who he sometimes want to punch into a coma. "Look, I'm sorry, but I've gotta go, okay?"
"Immediately or in a more existential sense?"
"I have yoga class."
"Okay, text me later if you want to hang out and if not, well. I'll see you when I see you."
"Think about Tribeca," Zach says, because it's a month away and maybe then he'll be able to stand being around Chris for a week.
"Yeah. I will. Have a good trip."
"Thanks, man, later."
*
Zach's instructor puts a hand on his shoulder after class and informs him that was the worst yoga he's ever seen from him.
"Yeah…" Zach says for about five seconds.
"Well, enjoy New York," his instructor says.
"Yeah, totally."
*
He gets home and finds a note from his brother, who has a night shoot and already picked up Noah and Harold for their extended vacation with Uncle Joe.
Zach looks around his empty house and laughs at himself for being so stupidly morose. He's really glad to be leaving it for two months. Lately, California has been suffocating, boring, full of earthquakes and too much stupid weather. He's glad to leave.
He considers calling Chris because another moment in his silent, empty house might literally kill him, but the idea of seeing Chris sends arches of discomfort up his back and he tries to suppress a full body shudder -- all amazing signs, right?
He eats, watches a few episodes of whatever is new on Hulu, takes a Xanax, and goes to bed at 7 pm.
*
Zach is slouching down uncomfortably in a seat outside Neal's gate at LAX, his hat brim blocking out most of the light and his back muscles whining about this new awful treatment after all that nice exercise the day before. His hands are clasped over his stomach and he's doing his best to force all his negative energy out before getting on that fucking plane for five trillion hours.
"Seriously, are you okay?" Neal asks after a while. "I just double dipped into your yogurt and you didn't even notice."
"Not hungry," Zach replies.
"Mmm," Neal says as he continues to eat Zach's breakfast. "Ugh, wheatgrass, how the fuck do you do this to yourself? Are the jeans really worth it?"
When Zach shrugs, he realizes he's being a little bitch. He tips his hat up slightly and glances at Neal. "Sorry, just really glad to be getting out of here."
"Happens," Neal says with a shrug right back.
Zach leans on his hand and watches Neal eat for a few moments, and then asks quickly, "Can I talk to you about Chris?"
"Yeah, why not. Is he coming to Tribeca?"
"Don't know, whatever, but we've been fucking for like. Um. A really long time, actually. Like more than a year."
Truthfully, he expected Neal to be a little more shocked, but Neal only sucks a bit of yogurt from the edge of his finger and nods.
"Corey told me, you dickface."
"Well, I didn't tell Corey, he just kind of. Found us."
"Oh God."
"On my --"
"Not necessary," Neal says as he focuses his eyes steadily on the bottom of the fruit-and-yogurt thing in search of escape or a blueberry. "He told me. Sorry. It's the reason Chris pulled out of that thing about the hipster astronauts, right?"
"Oh, no, that was because it wasn't funny," Zach replies. Neal looks offended (whatever, his girlfriends could never write for shit anyway, why was she any different?) and turns back to his fruit cup. "Obviously we weren't exclusive or anything. It just."
Neal glances over, pops another strawberry into his mouth, and waits expectantly for what Zach is going to say. Zach leans over a little more and asks into Neal's ear, "Okay, so you know those moments when you're fucking someone and it suddenly, like. Isn't just fucking anymore?"
"What, the wide, deep, meaningful eyes, the spiritual connection --"
"Yeah, except every time that happens to us we just. Freeze up. And I'd go pick up guys and he'd step out with some woman again -- or hell, he'd pick up some guys, too -- and then we'd slowly get into it again, and then --"
"Vicious cycle?"
"Oh my God, we get so vicious," Zach agrees. "And like. It's casual. We don't want more."
"Except…"
"Except. You know. He does now. He does, I know he does. No, okay. Once or twice, I was the one who said, hey, let's be boyfriends and he ran the hell off, but lately it's been all him and I can't."
"How come?" Neal asks. "Have you seen you two out with other people? It's like The Zach and Chris Show and no one has a chance with either of you, ever."
"What, so I should just go out with him seriously because --"
"Because you really want to? And if Chris flakes then he flakes, and you have a good reason for never trying it again, and maybe you can stop fucking him and start shopping around for a real guy."
"Uh, no," Zach replies, and he snatches the fruit-and-yogurt from Neal and digs at the bottom for something he spotted. "Maybe you and everyone else on the planet are okay with that, but I really don't want Chris."
Neal looks at him with a whole lot of skepticism and Zach does something with his shoulders to convey he's totally, really serious because he totally, really is.
"He's funny and he's great in bed, but none of that adds up to being a good boyfriend," Zach says.
"Wow, he sure fooled us," Neal says dryly. "With his being awesome and everything."
"I can do better," Zach says.
"Better how? More bendy, brain dead models? Look, I'm just telling you what I know," Neal begins and apparently he's charging a fee for this wisdom he's about to lay down because he takes the contested yogurt cup back. "Moosa will back me up on this because our best relationships, the ones that lasted the longest? There's always this tiny corner you live with where you want to punch them all the time. It keeps things fun."
"What, like that Florence and the Machine song? Because that just sounds lazy."
"If I say yes, are you going to try and set fire to your bed? Please don't. Ma Quinto will never forgive me."
"You need to stop calling her that," Zach laughs. "Makes me feel like I'm on Little House on the fucking Prairie."
"Dude," Neal says with a look of total glee. "Let's fucking ironically reboot that shit."
*
His mom babies him for two days and then he's in New York, which greets him with more rain than he knows what to do with.
His apartment in the city is on the tenth floor of an awesome building, and he has a great view of this cute little park that, yeah, looks adorable even in the rain.
There's a balcony, too, and he stands in the doorway until his feet ache, just watching it rain on the NYU kids rushing from alcove to alcove until they get to the Bobst a few blocks away.
His reverie is interrupted by Corey calling about getting tickets for some ballet thing that night, and they get caught up talking about the shit they've been invited to every night and when they're actually going to be able to work while in the city.
*
He runs into his friend Jesse on his second night back in the city. It's been a while since they've seen each other, even though they both live and work in LA.
"You won't be offended if I say I didn't watch Heroes?" Jesse asks. "I've just. Uh. Not been…"
"It's cool," Zach laughs. "You just have to be an extra big Trekkie to make up for the slight to my vanity."
Jesse 'hmm's for a long time and Zach laughs, then throws his hands up. "Come on, man, I love Modern Family, you've gotta throw me a bone here."
"Honestly, I don't know if I can ever see Star Trek again," Jesse says. It's intermission at whatever play premieres that night, and they're both leaning against the bar with neglected cocktails at their elbows. As a rule -- well -- whatever -- he generally doesn't like beards but it works on Jesse. He'd be way more awkward and pale without it and damn, the boy is already as pale as one can get without actually being transparent or bioluminescent.
"How can you say that?" Zach asks. "It's so jam-packed with action and Chris not getting laid and my pointy ears!"
"The pointy ears were kind of adorable, as was the bowl cut, can't lie about that," and Zach knows that sip he takes of his drink, the 'hold on, I just said you were cute, you should ruminate on that for a minute while I think of the next witty thing to say' sip, and it really works. "Unfortunately, I already made the mistake of dating a Trekkie."
"Mistake?" Zach asks, arching one eyebrow delicately and deliberately.
"He, oh God, I can't even." Jesse rubs his face and sips from his drink again. "Okay, look, I can't watch it ever again because the guy I was dating at the time he, uh."
The lights flash, calling them back to their seats. Zach downs his drink and urges Jesse on, pointing to the light.
"Okay, okay, he asked I give him a handjob during the -- the free fall scene? With Chris and -- uh -- fuck -- John Cho!"
"Oh God," Zach coughs. "You didn't, did -- Jesse you did," Zach gasps, covering his mouth with both hands. "How am I going to -- John is coming up for Tribeca and fuck, how am I ever going to look him in the eyes?"
"You're -- I'm the one who gave the handjob!" Jesse protests. "I'm the one who should be full of shame and embarrassment!"
Zach stops on the stairs and puts a hand on Jesse's shoulder. He raises his eyebrow again and says, "But you're not. Oh, this is even more amazing than before."
As they split off into different sections of the mezzanine, Jesse opens his mouth to say something but just waves instead. Zach shoots him a grin that he hopes wasn't lost in the audience shuffle.
*
At an after party the next night, Zach drinks and flips through his e-mails while everyone else talks about -- well, whatever, he wouldn't be flipping through his phone if it was an interesting conversation.
It definitely wasn't because of how easily Zach is able to hijack it.
"Holy fucking crap," Zach says. "Leonard Nimoy --" He laughs and clutches his phone to his chest, then looks at the screen again. "Oh my God, he's on Twitter, this is the best day ever."
"Is it really him?" five people ask at once, trying to get to his phone, which he puts far, far away from them.
"Yes, he e-mailed me and ohhhhhh my God, this is amazing."
"This is your life, by the way," Corey says from across the table. "Leonard Nimoy is on Twitter and you're the second person to know."
Because even with three thousand miles and fifty years' difference in their ages and a trillion universes of experience between a handful of random young actors at a bar and a pair of octogenarian sci-fi legends, everyone still knows that Shatner is first.
It's early still (in his career, in his life, not the night), but Zach thinks he has too many best friends for people to do that about him.
"So ridiculous," Zach says, half out loud and half to himself. He finishes his e-mail and slides the phone back in his pocket.
*
He gets a call the next morning -- it's obscenely early but he was already up to head off to yoga.
It's Jesse, and that's weird. They haven't really been the calling type, just the, 'oh hey, we're both here, having been invited by other people, that's cool' type of friends. (Acquaintances? Yes, that's the word.)
"Hey, you're up, right? Didn't wake you? You said you're usually up this early."
"No, no, I was just headed out," Zach says, trying to button his jeans one handed before giving up and cradling the phone against his shoulder. "What's up?"
"Oh, well, you said something about being a, and I quote, 'lazy loaf of lazy' last night and I -- well, I run in Central Park most mornings and -- so, do you want to?"
Zach looks at his hips in the mirror and raises his eyebrow at his mirror image when Jesse says that.
"Oh. Uh. Thanks, that's so sweet -- but I'm actually on my way out to yoga --?"
"Right, okay, that's cool. Anyway, just thought I'd ask. I'll see you around."
"'kay, bye."
Zach really forgot he could... fluster someone besides Sylar and Spock fangirls. He considers it for another minute and then his phone rings again.
"Hey again," Zach says.
"I forgot to ask: breakfast? I could run over to you."
And he could, because it's New York and even if people do run in Los Angeles, there's no… running over. Is there? He's kind of too taken aback to remember.
"Uh, I have meetings in Midtown today and there's a little diner, the Skylight?"
"Yeah, the Skylight, in like two hours?"
"Perfect. See you."
*
Jesse's career has also been made recently by the double act. He's inextricably linked to someone who he thinks is much funnier and charming and all around amazing than he is -- and somehow, he's not in love with him.
Not that Zach is in love.
"He's one of my best friends," Jesse says as he picks at his toast. "It just -- it was never a question -- I mean that's the worst kind of straight guy fear, isn't it? That gay guys will pounce on anything with a dick so it's best to keep your distance? I mean, not that all straight guys are like that, but I think I've met too many who are." He stares out the window for a moment and then looks back at the toast and at Zach. "Anyway, yeah, you know what that's like, don't you? You're close with Captain Kirk, I hear."
"Ha, you hear, that's not ominous," Zach laughs.
"Who hasn't heard about Kirk and Spock and the bromance of ages?"
"Ugh, oh my God, if I never hear that word again it'll be too soon."
"Honestly, how does one enter a bromance?" Jesse muses. "Here I thought going to basketball games and telling everyone how much I love my TV husband was enough --"
"Hold on, mentally checking out of this conversation and checking in somewhere else -- anywhere else."
They laugh and it's cute like in a movie: the awkward kid and the -- honestly, Zach thinks he's the cool kid, but he becomes a little more awkward and spastic the longer he knows someone, and Jesse gets cooler and more comfortable. It's not fair (for him.)
But it's cute like a movie -- Zach leaning on his right hand while his left hand idly taps on the table and Jesse's across from him, his right hand just centimeters away. Their space has that tension before something happens, electric with the possibility of touching or not touching. It's not like they're going to maul each other on the table if they touch, or never speak again if they don't, but -- Zach's brain is broken, and he can only think of saccharine words like cute or sweet.
"Well," Jesse exhales. "I have to get to rehearsal."
"Oh?" Zach asks when he sees Jesse's hand withdraw and move under the table. "For…"
"Shakespeare in the Park, gosh, where have you been? I'm kind of a big deal."
He isn't, not really, and that makes him all the bigger.
"Yeah, I have to meet up with everyone. Yay, work."
"Yeah, work is fun," Jesse says.
"Let me get this," Zach says as he grabs the neglected check. "I'm not sure the staff needs to know where you keep your wallet when you're running."
"That's third date material right there," Jesse says, and he quickly rubs his face and groans a little. "Not that this --"
"No it's --"
"Is it more or less awkward in your 30s or 20s?" Jesse asks once he stops trying to sand his beard off with his hands. "This whole. Thing."
Zach slides out of the booth and adjusts his bag. "I'd like to do this again. Can I call you?"
"You're good," Jesse replies with what seems like genuine amazement. He slides out of the booth, too, looks down at his shoes and Jesus, he really has the oh-shucks blushing virgin thing down fucking pat. "And: please do."
Zach grins and gives Jesse's elbow a squeeze before he steps out of the diner, and he can't help but keep grinning because damn, he's still got it.