[FIC] Ever After (Prologue)
Title: Ever After
Main Pairing: Jeff/Greg, with background Chip/Wayne and Colin/Ryan
Rating: R for language
Total Word Count: 17,890
Chapter Word Count: 1,657
Summary: Jeff’s a directionally challenged actor who can’t seem to catch a break. Chip promises that Jeff’s new GPS will be the solution to all of his problems, but why does it seem to cause more problems than it solves? Will Chip turn out to be right in the end? (Spoiler alert: of course he will. This is, after all, a fairy tale.)
Special Thanks: to sungreen70 for patiently (lol) championing this story from its humble beginnings in 2009, subtly (lol) suggesting I finish it while recovering at home from surgery, and going above and beyond as a beta reader despite all the other demands - including Hurricane Sandy and a presidential election! - on her time. You are amazing! ♥
The tap on the microphone sent a screech of feedback ricocheting around the reception hall. “Is this thing on?”
Wayne winced. “You’d think Drew would know how to use one of those things by now,” he said, his breath hot against Jeff’s ear.
Jeff shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The room was overheated and humid, and the odour of plumeria hung oppressively in the air. Jeff tugged at his cummerbund, which gripped his midsection like a vise. The heavy dinner was not sitting well. The walls of the reception hall, upholstered in a dark green silk, felt like they were closing in on him. He glanced suspiciously at the ceiling, which seemed to be getting closer to the floor with each passing hour.
Reluctantly Jeff turned to acknowledge Wayne, who had seemingly given up on Jeff’s response and was now occupied with grooming himself. Wayne smoothed his hair, then licked his paw. Wait, what? Jeff eyed his wineglass. How much had he had? He risked another glance at Wayne. He took in Wayne’s gleaming white teeth, penetrating eyes, and black... fur. A sinuous movement flickered in Jeff’s peripheral vision. It was a tail. Wayne had black fur, and a tail.
Jeff leaned over to Wayne and said, “Um, Wayne? I hope this isn’t too personal, but how long have you been a panther?”
Wayne tossed his head. “Baby, I was born this way. And what are you doing asking me something like that? You wouldn’t ask Drew how long he’s been a bore, would you?”
“Well, he does ramble on sometimes, but Drew’s not a-” Jeff looked up and stopped. “Oh. You mean a boar.” For there on the podium stood someone who was unmistakably Drew, but at the same time unmistakably a wild pig. Jeff surreptitiously nudged his wineglass in the direction of the table’s centrepiece.
“Anyway, shhh. You’ll miss the speeches.”
“Wouldn’t that be a shame,” Jeff muttered, drawing a glare from Wayne. He made a concerted effort to tune into what Drew was saying, but he’d apparently kept things short, for he saw Drew switch off the microphone, cue the band, and trot down the steps from the podium onto the dance floor.
“Well, that was qui-” Jeff started to speak before realizing he was alone at the table. The band struck up the opening bars of their first number, and Wayne’s voice filled the room. How had he managed to get from their table to the stage so fast? And why was it raining? Jeff put an uncertain hand to his hair, concerned about the damage his pomade would do if it dripped down onto his suit jacket.
Two by two, the wedding guests moved onto the dance floor. Jeff watched the parade of couples: a pair of elephants, a pair of tigers, a pair of monkeys; no two couples exactly alike, but each perfectly matched. In the centre of the dance floor, Jeff saw two lions - whom he knew were Colin and Ryan, though he didn’t know how he knew - dancing the rumba. Jeff remained at his table, one hand at his forehead to prevent the rain from getting into his eyes, alone.
His eyes locked on Wayne, singing with the band, and he gave a little exhale of relief. He wasn’t really alone. He had Wayne. It was just that Wayne wasn’t able to dance with Jeff because he had to sing. Maybe he would go over to the stage and stand near the band so he’d feel less out of place.
Jeff stood up, taking half of the tablecloth, his empty dinner plate, and three dessert spoons with him. As he bent beneath the table to retrieve the china shards and spoons from the carpet, he caught sight of his shoes and noticed that-
“You’re not a panther.”
The voice sounded like it was coming from right inside his own head. Startled, Jeff flung his head up and banged it on the underside of the table. Clutching his head in one hand and the spoons in the other, he backed out from under the table and struggled to his feet.
“I said, you’re not a panther.” That voice again. Maddeningly familiar, and so close.
“Yeah, so?” Jeff said to no one in particular, wine-fueled belligerence shading his voice. He looked behind him. Nothing. He looked behind him again, and there was Chip, standing there with his arms folded across his chest.
“It means that Wayne’s not the one for you. He’s a panther, and you’re not. Notice how everyone else around here matches?”
Jeff’s wet hair was falling into his eyes, and he pushed it back. “Is that why it’s raining?”
“I don’t follow.”
“You know, the ark thing? Two by two and Noah and all that?”
The water on the floor was now ankle-deep. No one but Jeff seemed to notice, or care. The pairs of animals continued to twirl and dance, and the panther sang on.
“I need to get out of here,” Jeff said eventually, when it was apparent Chip wasn’t going to answer him. “I can’t swim.”
“Yes, you can,” Chip said. “You just don’t know it yet.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
But Chip just smiled enigmatically. “You can stay if you find someone who matches you,” he said. “No, not me,” he added quickly, when he saw Jeff giving him an appraising look. “We’ve been there and done that, remember? Besides, I’m not really here. I’m just playing a role - the voice of your subconscious. Your inner monologue repeats itself so much that I’m going to clean up when the residuals start coming in.” And with that Chip vanished. No snap of the fingers, no clap of the hands - not even a little nose-twitch, Jeff noted. Chip was just gone.
And the water continued to rise.
Jeff splashed his way toward the exit. As he passed the stage, he noticed that Wayne had been joined by a second panther, with whom he was now singing a duet. Wayne caught Jeff’s eye, mouthed “Sorry,” and then returned to his song.
No one else noticed when Jeff ran out the door.
Jeff had the idea that he could return to the reception hall once he found someone to return with. But he found himself running farther and farther away, unable to stop. The landscape was ever-changing: first a desert, then a rainforest, then a busy city street. But the people he passed remained the same. Jeff tried to speak to them, but no one understood what he said. And he couldn’t understand them. There was no one like him left on earth. He was different. He was alone.
Jeff ran to the edge of the earth. He didn’t know why the earth suddenly had an edge, only that it did. Where he was standing was sandy, like a beach. Beyond the edge of the earth was cold black water; above him, cold black sky. A thin seam of hazy light marked the horizon.
Jeff was weary. He’d been running for so long. He felt like he was being pulled toward the earth’s surface, and he lay down on his back, letting the earth cradle him. He looked up at the stars and tried to slow his breathing. They seemed to twinkle in pairs, except for a single lone star just above the western horizon. Jeff knew how that star felt. Cold. Alone, in a sea of blackness.
Jeff became aware of a presence behind him. As he turned, his vision swam out of focus. He rubbed his eyes, but they didn’t clear. Through the haze he saw someone standing in front of him.
I’ve been looking for you, the someone thought, and Jeff was startled to discover that he could hear this thought as if it had been spoken aloud.
The someone seemed amused. Yes, you can hear me. I can hear you, too.
“Who are you?” Jeff said, before realizing he didn’t have to speak. Who are you?
Jeff knew the answer even before the thought had been formed: I’m yours.
Relief and longing flooded through him. He got to his feet and reached out blindly. He felt the warmth of a strong hand grasp his own.
I’ve got you, kitten. Don’t let go.
He didn’t want to, ever.
Jeff felt the presence envelop him, fuse with him into one being.
And in that moment Jeff knew what it was to be truly loved.
* * *
Brrrring! Jeff flinched at the sound of an old-fashioned telephone. He looked around for the source of the ring, and his eyes lit on a yellow object lying in the sand.
It was a banana. Of course it was. Feeling like a fool, Jeff picked up the banana and put it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Time to wake up,” came the voice from the other end.
“Chip? Why are you calling me on a banana?”
“Now that’s a sentence you don’t hear every day. And I’m not Chip, remember? I’m your subconscious, speaking to you in Chip’s voice,” not-Chip explained patiently. “Now wake up. It’s time to go.”
“No,” Jeff pleaded. “I don’t want to leave here!” But even as he spoke, the stars above him seemed to dim. The figure next to him grew shadowy and distant. Even Chip’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.
A series of electronic tones jangled in Jeff’s ear. While everything else was fading out, these tones were becoming louder and more insistent. It sounded like the Mexican hat dance. His ringtone.
Jeff opened his eyes, and the banana in his hand turned into his iPhone. He was sprawled face-down across his bed, still dressed in the tuxedo he’d worn to Colin and Ryan’s wedding the day before. His cummerbund had ridden up around his chest, and his pants were unzipped. His suit jacket was in a crumpled heap on the floor.
And he was alone.
Main Pairing: Jeff/Greg, with background Chip/Wayne and Colin/Ryan
Rating: R for language
Total Word Count: 17,890
Chapter Word Count: 1,657
Summary: Jeff’s a directionally challenged actor who can’t seem to catch a break. Chip promises that Jeff’s new GPS will be the solution to all of his problems, but why does it seem to cause more problems than it solves? Will Chip turn out to be right in the end? (Spoiler alert: of course he will. This is, after all, a fairy tale.)
Special Thanks: to sungreen70 for patiently (lol) championing this story from its humble beginnings in 2009, subtly (lol) suggesting I finish it while recovering at home from surgery, and going above and beyond as a beta reader despite all the other demands - including Hurricane Sandy and a presidential election! - on her time. You are amazing! ♥
The tap on the microphone sent a screech of feedback ricocheting around the reception hall. “Is this thing on?”
Wayne winced. “You’d think Drew would know how to use one of those things by now,” he said, his breath hot against Jeff’s ear.
Jeff shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The room was overheated and humid, and the odour of plumeria hung oppressively in the air. Jeff tugged at his cummerbund, which gripped his midsection like a vise. The heavy dinner was not sitting well. The walls of the reception hall, upholstered in a dark green silk, felt like they were closing in on him. He glanced suspiciously at the ceiling, which seemed to be getting closer to the floor with each passing hour.
Reluctantly Jeff turned to acknowledge Wayne, who had seemingly given up on Jeff’s response and was now occupied with grooming himself. Wayne smoothed his hair, then licked his paw. Wait, what? Jeff eyed his wineglass. How much had he had? He risked another glance at Wayne. He took in Wayne’s gleaming white teeth, penetrating eyes, and black... fur. A sinuous movement flickered in Jeff’s peripheral vision. It was a tail. Wayne had black fur, and a tail.
Jeff leaned over to Wayne and said, “Um, Wayne? I hope this isn’t too personal, but how long have you been a panther?”
Wayne tossed his head. “Baby, I was born this way. And what are you doing asking me something like that? You wouldn’t ask Drew how long he’s been a bore, would you?”
“Well, he does ramble on sometimes, but Drew’s not a-” Jeff looked up and stopped. “Oh. You mean a boar.” For there on the podium stood someone who was unmistakably Drew, but at the same time unmistakably a wild pig. Jeff surreptitiously nudged his wineglass in the direction of the table’s centrepiece.
“Anyway, shhh. You’ll miss the speeches.”
“Wouldn’t that be a shame,” Jeff muttered, drawing a glare from Wayne. He made a concerted effort to tune into what Drew was saying, but he’d apparently kept things short, for he saw Drew switch off the microphone, cue the band, and trot down the steps from the podium onto the dance floor.
“Well, that was qui-” Jeff started to speak before realizing he was alone at the table. The band struck up the opening bars of their first number, and Wayne’s voice filled the room. How had he managed to get from their table to the stage so fast? And why was it raining? Jeff put an uncertain hand to his hair, concerned about the damage his pomade would do if it dripped down onto his suit jacket.
Two by two, the wedding guests moved onto the dance floor. Jeff watched the parade of couples: a pair of elephants, a pair of tigers, a pair of monkeys; no two couples exactly alike, but each perfectly matched. In the centre of the dance floor, Jeff saw two lions - whom he knew were Colin and Ryan, though he didn’t know how he knew - dancing the rumba. Jeff remained at his table, one hand at his forehead to prevent the rain from getting into his eyes, alone.
His eyes locked on Wayne, singing with the band, and he gave a little exhale of relief. He wasn’t really alone. He had Wayne. It was just that Wayne wasn’t able to dance with Jeff because he had to sing. Maybe he would go over to the stage and stand near the band so he’d feel less out of place.
Jeff stood up, taking half of the tablecloth, his empty dinner plate, and three dessert spoons with him. As he bent beneath the table to retrieve the china shards and spoons from the carpet, he caught sight of his shoes and noticed that-
“You’re not a panther.”
The voice sounded like it was coming from right inside his own head. Startled, Jeff flung his head up and banged it on the underside of the table. Clutching his head in one hand and the spoons in the other, he backed out from under the table and struggled to his feet.
“I said, you’re not a panther.” That voice again. Maddeningly familiar, and so close.
“Yeah, so?” Jeff said to no one in particular, wine-fueled belligerence shading his voice. He looked behind him. Nothing. He looked behind him again, and there was Chip, standing there with his arms folded across his chest.
“It means that Wayne’s not the one for you. He’s a panther, and you’re not. Notice how everyone else around here matches?”
Jeff’s wet hair was falling into his eyes, and he pushed it back. “Is that why it’s raining?”
“I don’t follow.”
“You know, the ark thing? Two by two and Noah and all that?”
The water on the floor was now ankle-deep. No one but Jeff seemed to notice, or care. The pairs of animals continued to twirl and dance, and the panther sang on.
“I need to get out of here,” Jeff said eventually, when it was apparent Chip wasn’t going to answer him. “I can’t swim.”
“Yes, you can,” Chip said. “You just don’t know it yet.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
But Chip just smiled enigmatically. “You can stay if you find someone who matches you,” he said. “No, not me,” he added quickly, when he saw Jeff giving him an appraising look. “We’ve been there and done that, remember? Besides, I’m not really here. I’m just playing a role - the voice of your subconscious. Your inner monologue repeats itself so much that I’m going to clean up when the residuals start coming in.” And with that Chip vanished. No snap of the fingers, no clap of the hands - not even a little nose-twitch, Jeff noted. Chip was just gone.
And the water continued to rise.
Jeff splashed his way toward the exit. As he passed the stage, he noticed that Wayne had been joined by a second panther, with whom he was now singing a duet. Wayne caught Jeff’s eye, mouthed “Sorry,” and then returned to his song.
No one else noticed when Jeff ran out the door.
Jeff had the idea that he could return to the reception hall once he found someone to return with. But he found himself running farther and farther away, unable to stop. The landscape was ever-changing: first a desert, then a rainforest, then a busy city street. But the people he passed remained the same. Jeff tried to speak to them, but no one understood what he said. And he couldn’t understand them. There was no one like him left on earth. He was different. He was alone.
Jeff ran to the edge of the earth. He didn’t know why the earth suddenly had an edge, only that it did. Where he was standing was sandy, like a beach. Beyond the edge of the earth was cold black water; above him, cold black sky. A thin seam of hazy light marked the horizon.
Jeff was weary. He’d been running for so long. He felt like he was being pulled toward the earth’s surface, and he lay down on his back, letting the earth cradle him. He looked up at the stars and tried to slow his breathing. They seemed to twinkle in pairs, except for a single lone star just above the western horizon. Jeff knew how that star felt. Cold. Alone, in a sea of blackness.
Jeff became aware of a presence behind him. As he turned, his vision swam out of focus. He rubbed his eyes, but they didn’t clear. Through the haze he saw someone standing in front of him.
I’ve been looking for you, the someone thought, and Jeff was startled to discover that he could hear this thought as if it had been spoken aloud.
The someone seemed amused. Yes, you can hear me. I can hear you, too.
“Who are you?” Jeff said, before realizing he didn’t have to speak. Who are you?
Jeff knew the answer even before the thought had been formed: I’m yours.
Relief and longing flooded through him. He got to his feet and reached out blindly. He felt the warmth of a strong hand grasp his own.
I’ve got you, kitten. Don’t let go.
He didn’t want to, ever.
Jeff felt the presence envelop him, fuse with him into one being.
And in that moment Jeff knew what it was to be truly loved.
* * *
Brrrring! Jeff flinched at the sound of an old-fashioned telephone. He looked around for the source of the ring, and his eyes lit on a yellow object lying in the sand.
It was a banana. Of course it was. Feeling like a fool, Jeff picked up the banana and put it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Time to wake up,” came the voice from the other end.
“Chip? Why are you calling me on a banana?”
“Now that’s a sentence you don’t hear every day. And I’m not Chip, remember? I’m your subconscious, speaking to you in Chip’s voice,” not-Chip explained patiently. “Now wake up. It’s time to go.”
“No,” Jeff pleaded. “I don’t want to leave here!” But even as he spoke, the stars above him seemed to dim. The figure next to him grew shadowy and distant. Even Chip’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.
A series of electronic tones jangled in Jeff’s ear. While everything else was fading out, these tones were becoming louder and more insistent. It sounded like the Mexican hat dance. His ringtone.
Jeff opened his eyes, and the banana in his hand turned into his iPhone. He was sprawled face-down across his bed, still dressed in the tuxedo he’d worn to Colin and Ryan’s wedding the day before. His cummerbund had ridden up around his chest, and his pants were unzipped. His suit jacket was in a crumpled heap on the floor.
And he was alone.