[FIC] Ever After (Chapter 9/11)
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: 1,159
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! ♥
Chip and Wayne headed down the sidewalk in the direction of Jeff’s Mini Cooper, which was parked half a block away from the theatre. Jeff stared after them. Chip and Wayne turned and looked expectantly at Jeff, who was still standing next to Chip’s Cherokee.
“What, you want to go in my car?” Jeff said finally. “We can’t. My GPS isn’t- uh, it isn’t working right now.” His voice sounded high and false to his ears.
Chip and Wayne exchanged a look - Do you know what he’s talking about? No, do you? - and turned back to Jeff. “What do you mean, your GPS isn’t working?” they said, more or less simultaneously.
Jeff caught up to them. “Knock it off with the Colin and Ryan impersonation,” he said. “It’s creeping me out.”
Wayne glared at him. “Stick to the subject.”
“There’s nothing to stick to,” Jeff said defensively. “I just told you, it’s broken. Or... not charged, or something. Look, let’s just forget this fish bar thing and-”
“It’s not a fish bar!” Chip said vehemently. “It’s an aquatic sensory experience.”
“If it serves drinks, it’s a bar,” Jeff countered, as the three of them reached the Mini Cooper. “And if it gives the drinks ridiculous names, it’s a fish bar.”
Wayne suppressed a smile. “Look, we’re here now, so let’s just go in your car anyway, okay?” He peered in through the passenger side window, his eyes lighting up as he caught sight of the lollipop pile between the two front seats. “Plus I hear it’s got candy.”
Reluctantly Jeff withdrew his key fob from his pocket and clicked the unlock button.
Wayne slid into the backseat. “You can ride shotgun,” he said to Chip. Wayne selected a watermelon lollipop from the centre console, then sat back and started to unwrap it.
In the front passenger seat, Chip leaned forward and unlatched the glove compartment. He stuck his hand in, felt around, and withdrew the soggy remains of a pineapple lollipop. “Eww, sticky,” Chip said, wrinkling his nose. “Why do you keep your trash in the glove compartment?” He grabbed a tissue from the dashboard and wrapped up the white stick, tucking it into the side pocket of the passenger door.
Jeff’s eyes widened. He knew he hadn’t stashed the half-eaten candy in the glove compartment. He hadn’t even touched the lollipop; he hated pineapple. Could it be...? he thought. No, that’s impossible....
“Jeff, what’s wrong with you? You’ve only had this what, a month?”
Jeff turned to see Chip holding out the GPS, the crack in the screen clearly visible, a disapproving look on his face. “Yeah, sorry. I, uh… I dropped it.”
Chip opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. He pressed the power button, and to Jeff’s surprise, the GPS powered on like nothing had ever happened. Chip shot Jeff a suspicious look. “I thought you said this thing wasn’t charged.”
Wayne stuck his head between the two front seats, the tail of his lollipop sticking out of the side of his mouth like an ultraslim cigarette. “It must be,” he said, the candy clicking against his teeth as he talked. “Look at the battery icon, it’s coloured in.”
“I guess I just made a mistake,” Jeff said lightly, trying to disguise his unease. What was going on? He watched the screen come to life, his discomfiture deepening. The welcome screen, normally a riot of bright colours, now displayed the brand logo in muted tones. The main menu, too, looked different, though Jeff couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
“Just touch the Search POI button,” Wayne directed, gesturing with his lollipop. “You should be able to narrow it down to bars and restaurants after that.”
Jeff batted away Wayne’s lollipop hand. “Watch it with that thing, will you?”
“Sorry,” Wayne said, settling back into his seat. He began to sing into the lollipop as if it were a microphone. “Oh-oh doggie… no more soft foo-ood for you-ou-ou… ah-oooooh….”
Jeff glared at Wayne in the rearview mirror. “Like the fish bar isn’t going to be bad enough?”
“Hey, if it was good enough to sing at Colin and Ryan’s wedding, it’s good enough for the Jeffmobile, right?” Wayne started to sing louder.
Jeff closed his eyes and leaned back against the head rest. “Wrong.”
“Found it!” Jeff’s eyes flew open at the sound of Chip’s triumphant voice.
“And it’s in Redondo Beach, right?” Wayne said confidently.
“Nope. Playa del Rey.”
Wayne frowned. “Well, ‘playa’ is Spanish for ‘beach’....”
Jeff snorted and made a shovelling motion with his hands. “Keep digging, man.”
Chip passed the GPS to Jeff. As soon as the plastic touched his skin, he yanked his hand back as if he’d been scalded. “What’s the matter with you?” Chip yelped, scrabbling to catch the GPS before it fell to the floor. “No wonder this thing has a crack in it. Here, you need to put it up on your side. You’re the one who’s driving.”
Reluctantly Jeff accepted the proffered GPS. Keeping his gaze averted from the screen, he busied himself with attaching the GPS to its holder. As he turned the key in the ignition, Jeff heard a digitized voice say, “In two miles, turn left.”
The voice was indisputably Greg’s, but it was colder and flatter than Jeff remembered. Unexpected tears stung his eyes. Jeff fiddled with the side mirror controls, wishing he could control his emotions as easily.
Wayne leaned forward again. “Hey, are we going, or are we just gonna sit here all night?”
Jeff put the Mini Cooper in gear. In a flat voice he said, “We’re going.”
Chip turned to shoot a worried look at Wayne, who shrugged in response.
Conversation dwindled. Jeff concentrated on the road. He drove south on the 405, the journey punctuated by the occasional crunch of a lollipop wrapper and Greg’s impersonal voice announcing the next exit.
Chip leaned over to study the GPS screen. “Are we almost there?”
Jeff flinched, and Chip put a steadying hand on his arm. “Are you sure you’re all right?” Chip asked, frowning.
“I’m fine,” Jeff said, removing Chip’s hand from his arm. “I’m just a little....”
“Flinchy,” Wayne supplied from the back seat.
“Yeah.”
Jeff flicked on his turn signal just as Greg said, “Turn left.” Jeff turned the Mini Cooper onto Culver Boulevard and began to slow down, scanning both sides of the street for the cantina.
“There it is,” Chip said, pointing out a sign about half a block away that pulsed with green and blue neon.
“You have reached your destination,” Greg announced.
“No, we haven’t,” Wayne said, puzzled.
Without thinking, Jeff said casually, “Oh, don’t mind Greg. He just suffers from premature destination.”
“Hey!”
Jeff jerked his head to the right. But Chip hadn’t spoken. Jeff’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror. Neither had Wayne. Instead, both of them were staring, speechless, at the GPS.
Main Pairing: Jeff/Greg, with background Chip/Wayne and Colin/Ryan
Rating: R for language
Total Word Count: 17,890
Chapter Word Count: 1,159
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! ♥
Chip and Wayne headed down the sidewalk in the direction of Jeff’s Mini Cooper, which was parked half a block away from the theatre. Jeff stared after them. Chip and Wayne turned and looked expectantly at Jeff, who was still standing next to Chip’s Cherokee.
“What, you want to go in my car?” Jeff said finally. “We can’t. My GPS isn’t- uh, it isn’t working right now.” His voice sounded high and false to his ears.
Chip and Wayne exchanged a look - Do you know what he’s talking about? No, do you? - and turned back to Jeff. “What do you mean, your GPS isn’t working?” they said, more or less simultaneously.
Jeff caught up to them. “Knock it off with the Colin and Ryan impersonation,” he said. “It’s creeping me out.”
Wayne glared at him. “Stick to the subject.”
“There’s nothing to stick to,” Jeff said defensively. “I just told you, it’s broken. Or... not charged, or something. Look, let’s just forget this fish bar thing and-”
“It’s not a fish bar!” Chip said vehemently. “It’s an aquatic sensory experience.”
“If it serves drinks, it’s a bar,” Jeff countered, as the three of them reached the Mini Cooper. “And if it gives the drinks ridiculous names, it’s a fish bar.”
Wayne suppressed a smile. “Look, we’re here now, so let’s just go in your car anyway, okay?” He peered in through the passenger side window, his eyes lighting up as he caught sight of the lollipop pile between the two front seats. “Plus I hear it’s got candy.”
Reluctantly Jeff withdrew his key fob from his pocket and clicked the unlock button.
Wayne slid into the backseat. “You can ride shotgun,” he said to Chip. Wayne selected a watermelon lollipop from the centre console, then sat back and started to unwrap it.
In the front passenger seat, Chip leaned forward and unlatched the glove compartment. He stuck his hand in, felt around, and withdrew the soggy remains of a pineapple lollipop. “Eww, sticky,” Chip said, wrinkling his nose. “Why do you keep your trash in the glove compartment?” He grabbed a tissue from the dashboard and wrapped up the white stick, tucking it into the side pocket of the passenger door.
Jeff’s eyes widened. He knew he hadn’t stashed the half-eaten candy in the glove compartment. He hadn’t even touched the lollipop; he hated pineapple. Could it be...? he thought. No, that’s impossible....
“Jeff, what’s wrong with you? You’ve only had this what, a month?”
Jeff turned to see Chip holding out the GPS, the crack in the screen clearly visible, a disapproving look on his face. “Yeah, sorry. I, uh… I dropped it.”
Chip opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. He pressed the power button, and to Jeff’s surprise, the GPS powered on like nothing had ever happened. Chip shot Jeff a suspicious look. “I thought you said this thing wasn’t charged.”
Wayne stuck his head between the two front seats, the tail of his lollipop sticking out of the side of his mouth like an ultraslim cigarette. “It must be,” he said, the candy clicking against his teeth as he talked. “Look at the battery icon, it’s coloured in.”
“I guess I just made a mistake,” Jeff said lightly, trying to disguise his unease. What was going on? He watched the screen come to life, his discomfiture deepening. The welcome screen, normally a riot of bright colours, now displayed the brand logo in muted tones. The main menu, too, looked different, though Jeff couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
“Just touch the Search POI button,” Wayne directed, gesturing with his lollipop. “You should be able to narrow it down to bars and restaurants after that.”
Jeff batted away Wayne’s lollipop hand. “Watch it with that thing, will you?”
“Sorry,” Wayne said, settling back into his seat. He began to sing into the lollipop as if it were a microphone. “Oh-oh doggie… no more soft foo-ood for you-ou-ou… ah-oooooh….”
Jeff glared at Wayne in the rearview mirror. “Like the fish bar isn’t going to be bad enough?”
“Hey, if it was good enough to sing at Colin and Ryan’s wedding, it’s good enough for the Jeffmobile, right?” Wayne started to sing louder.
Jeff closed his eyes and leaned back against the head rest. “Wrong.”
“Found it!” Jeff’s eyes flew open at the sound of Chip’s triumphant voice.
“And it’s in Redondo Beach, right?” Wayne said confidently.
“Nope. Playa del Rey.”
Wayne frowned. “Well, ‘playa’ is Spanish for ‘beach’....”
Jeff snorted and made a shovelling motion with his hands. “Keep digging, man.”
Chip passed the GPS to Jeff. As soon as the plastic touched his skin, he yanked his hand back as if he’d been scalded. “What’s the matter with you?” Chip yelped, scrabbling to catch the GPS before it fell to the floor. “No wonder this thing has a crack in it. Here, you need to put it up on your side. You’re the one who’s driving.”
Reluctantly Jeff accepted the proffered GPS. Keeping his gaze averted from the screen, he busied himself with attaching the GPS to its holder. As he turned the key in the ignition, Jeff heard a digitized voice say, “In two miles, turn left.”
The voice was indisputably Greg’s, but it was colder and flatter than Jeff remembered. Unexpected tears stung his eyes. Jeff fiddled with the side mirror controls, wishing he could control his emotions as easily.
Wayne leaned forward again. “Hey, are we going, or are we just gonna sit here all night?”
Jeff put the Mini Cooper in gear. In a flat voice he said, “We’re going.”
Chip turned to shoot a worried look at Wayne, who shrugged in response.
Conversation dwindled. Jeff concentrated on the road. He drove south on the 405, the journey punctuated by the occasional crunch of a lollipop wrapper and Greg’s impersonal voice announcing the next exit.
Chip leaned over to study the GPS screen. “Are we almost there?”
Jeff flinched, and Chip put a steadying hand on his arm. “Are you sure you’re all right?” Chip asked, frowning.
“I’m fine,” Jeff said, removing Chip’s hand from his arm. “I’m just a little....”
“Flinchy,” Wayne supplied from the back seat.
“Yeah.”
Jeff flicked on his turn signal just as Greg said, “Turn left.” Jeff turned the Mini Cooper onto Culver Boulevard and began to slow down, scanning both sides of the street for the cantina.
“There it is,” Chip said, pointing out a sign about half a block away that pulsed with green and blue neon.
“You have reached your destination,” Greg announced.
“No, we haven’t,” Wayne said, puzzled.
Without thinking, Jeff said casually, “Oh, don’t mind Greg. He just suffers from premature destination.”
“Hey!”
Jeff jerked his head to the right. But Chip hadn’t spoken. Jeff’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror. Neither had Wayne. Instead, both of them were staring, speechless, at the GPS.