Entourage FF: Looking Back at You (Eric/Vince, R)
Reposting from oxoniensis's Porn Battle VI.
Title: Looking Back at You
Fandom: Entourage
Pairing: Eric/Vince
Rating: R
Length: 860 words
Disclaimer: All belongs to Doug Ellin and HBO
Spoilers: Vague spoilers through S3, but nothing very specific
Summary: Prompt was home movies, originally here.
Sixteen, and Eric was laughing and looking at Vince through the frame his hands made. C’mon then, movie star, show me what you got. Vinnie still has traces of make-up from the play creased behind his ear. Eric wipes it away with spit-slick fingers, too much like his mother for comfort. He pulls away. Vince’s expression is serious, and Eric has a few moments of terrible panic before he realises that Vince is just getting ready to show off his monologue again.
Twenty-six, and Eric’s pulling photos from Drama’s new digital camera. In the middle there’s a hundred or so from the ‘Head On’ premiere, group mementos of Vince’s first big starring role. When Eric speeds them through, it’s like watching Vince in an old film: click click click. Eric’s camerawork is predictable. Vince is captured straightening his tie in the mirror, looking uncommonly solemn. The camera drifts only a little, at an angle to Vince’s throat, and then to a much closer shot of his white smile, turned to Eric. He had dropped the camera onto the table, and gone to help Vince with his tie.
Thirty-six, and Vince bursts into Eric’s bedroom with a new video camera.
“So, Mr Murphy, how does it feel to be the executive producer of the most-nominated film in tonight’s Oscar ceremony?”
Eric laughs. “Pretty fucking great, Mr Chase. How does it feel to be our competition for Best Actor?”
Vince grabs him around the shoulders, the camera aiming at the wall now. “Pretty fucking great.”
“Good.”
Eric expects Vince to go bug someone else, but when he comes back out of his bathroom, Vince is on the bed. He waves him away - Vince is only mostly dressed - and tries to find his cufflinks. Vince holds the camera on him when he kneels on the floor in front of his dresser. Eric scowls and stands up. “Vince.”
“E.”
“Go get dressed.”
“I’m recording you.”
“I can see that, asshole, but you need to get some clothes on before we go take the Kodak Theatre by storm.”
“Just a little longer.”
“Vince, what the fuck?”
“I wanna remember this.”
Eric has never been comfortable under the camera’s gaze. He never wanted Vince’s job, even when he pretends he could have. It makes him feel exposed, awkward, and that hardly ever happens these days. He can talk to the biggest goddamn suits in the business and not break a sweat, but Vince looking at him through a lens makes him feel like he’s naked in English class.
Vince pouts at him. “Don’t get pissy, E.”
“I’m not getting- Go put on some clothes!”
“Eric. This is it for us, you know that?”
“You mean that in a good way, right? Cause this isn’t the time for existential bullshit. This is as good as it gets without them opening that envelope and calling out your name.”
“Or your guy’s name.”
“Vince. Come on. I’m rooting for you, you know that.”
“I do.”
“Vince.”
“I want to see you happy.” Eric tries to interrupt but Vince talks over the top of him. “If you get mad at me later, I want to remember this part.”
Eric stays still and lets Vince hold the camera on him, though he is sure he looks anything but happy. Vince’s hand is a little unsteady and he looks at the Eric on the viewfinder screen, not meeting real-Eric’s eyes.
Vince says, “I want...”
“We can get you anything you want.”
“Even if it really does means the end of all this stuff? If this is the last time anyone cares enough to stick a camera in my face and ask me who I’m wearing.”
Eric takes the camera from Vince’s hands. “I’ve been doing this since we were kids, Vince.” He points the camera at Vince’s face, Vince serious like he’s about to give his suicide speech. “Why’d I stop now, just when it’s getting interesting?”
Vince’s hand goes up to cover the camera lens as though it’s an unwanted voyeur. He walks in close and knocks the expensive piece of equipment onto the bed. The camera misses the next shot: Vince taking Eric’s face in his hands and leaning down for a kiss that is clumsier than any he has given on-screen.
It catches the next: Eric pulling Vince back onto the bed with him to kneel over his lap. Eric’s expensive new shirt is thrown over it, now missing two buttons. In this light, the camera accommodates the change, making video memory of their joined silhouettes.
The camera can’t find Vince’s hands, and Eric cries out, “Jesus fucking Christ, Vince.” He throws his arm out and hits the camera.
“Is that thing still-?”
“We’ll record over it later.”
“After the show.”
“We’ve still got a little time.”
“Vince.”
“E.” Vince’s voice is gloriously, blissfully unrepentant. He shoves Eric flat on the bed, raking his eyes up and down his body. Eric reaches up and tugs at Vince’s hip. Vince rests his hand on Eric’s cock, laughing at the noise he makes. Vince doesn’t move, holding the shot in freeze-frame. “Just let me look at you a minute.”
FIN.
Title: Looking Back at You
Fandom: Entourage
Pairing: Eric/Vince
Rating: R
Length: 860 words
Disclaimer: All belongs to Doug Ellin and HBO
Spoilers: Vague spoilers through S3, but nothing very specific
Summary: Prompt was home movies, originally here.
Sixteen, and Eric was laughing and looking at Vince through the frame his hands made. C’mon then, movie star, show me what you got. Vinnie still has traces of make-up from the play creased behind his ear. Eric wipes it away with spit-slick fingers, too much like his mother for comfort. He pulls away. Vince’s expression is serious, and Eric has a few moments of terrible panic before he realises that Vince is just getting ready to show off his monologue again.
Twenty-six, and Eric’s pulling photos from Drama’s new digital camera. In the middle there’s a hundred or so from the ‘Head On’ premiere, group mementos of Vince’s first big starring role. When Eric speeds them through, it’s like watching Vince in an old film: click click click. Eric’s camerawork is predictable. Vince is captured straightening his tie in the mirror, looking uncommonly solemn. The camera drifts only a little, at an angle to Vince’s throat, and then to a much closer shot of his white smile, turned to Eric. He had dropped the camera onto the table, and gone to help Vince with his tie.
Thirty-six, and Vince bursts into Eric’s bedroom with a new video camera.
“So, Mr Murphy, how does it feel to be the executive producer of the most-nominated film in tonight’s Oscar ceremony?”
Eric laughs. “Pretty fucking great, Mr Chase. How does it feel to be our competition for Best Actor?”
Vince grabs him around the shoulders, the camera aiming at the wall now. “Pretty fucking great.”
“Good.”
Eric expects Vince to go bug someone else, but when he comes back out of his bathroom, Vince is on the bed. He waves him away - Vince is only mostly dressed - and tries to find his cufflinks. Vince holds the camera on him when he kneels on the floor in front of his dresser. Eric scowls and stands up. “Vince.”
“E.”
“Go get dressed.”
“I’m recording you.”
“I can see that, asshole, but you need to get some clothes on before we go take the Kodak Theatre by storm.”
“Just a little longer.”
“Vince, what the fuck?”
“I wanna remember this.”
Eric has never been comfortable under the camera’s gaze. He never wanted Vince’s job, even when he pretends he could have. It makes him feel exposed, awkward, and that hardly ever happens these days. He can talk to the biggest goddamn suits in the business and not break a sweat, but Vince looking at him through a lens makes him feel like he’s naked in English class.
Vince pouts at him. “Don’t get pissy, E.”
“I’m not getting- Go put on some clothes!”
“Eric. This is it for us, you know that?”
“You mean that in a good way, right? Cause this isn’t the time for existential bullshit. This is as good as it gets without them opening that envelope and calling out your name.”
“Or your guy’s name.”
“Vince. Come on. I’m rooting for you, you know that.”
“I do.”
“Vince.”
“I want to see you happy.” Eric tries to interrupt but Vince talks over the top of him. “If you get mad at me later, I want to remember this part.”
Eric stays still and lets Vince hold the camera on him, though he is sure he looks anything but happy. Vince’s hand is a little unsteady and he looks at the Eric on the viewfinder screen, not meeting real-Eric’s eyes.
Vince says, “I want...”
“We can get you anything you want.”
“Even if it really does means the end of all this stuff? If this is the last time anyone cares enough to stick a camera in my face and ask me who I’m wearing.”
Eric takes the camera from Vince’s hands. “I’ve been doing this since we were kids, Vince.” He points the camera at Vince’s face, Vince serious like he’s about to give his suicide speech. “Why’d I stop now, just when it’s getting interesting?”
Vince’s hand goes up to cover the camera lens as though it’s an unwanted voyeur. He walks in close and knocks the expensive piece of equipment onto the bed. The camera misses the next shot: Vince taking Eric’s face in his hands and leaning down for a kiss that is clumsier than any he has given on-screen.
It catches the next: Eric pulling Vince back onto the bed with him to kneel over his lap. Eric’s expensive new shirt is thrown over it, now missing two buttons. In this light, the camera accommodates the change, making video memory of their joined silhouettes.
The camera can’t find Vince’s hands, and Eric cries out, “Jesus fucking Christ, Vince.” He throws his arm out and hits the camera.
“Is that thing still-?”
“We’ll record over it later.”
“After the show.”
“We’ve still got a little time.”
“Vince.”
“E.” Vince’s voice is gloriously, blissfully unrepentant. He shoves Eric flat on the bed, raking his eyes up and down his body. Eric reaches up and tugs at Vince’s hip. Vince rests his hand on Eric’s cock, laughing at the noise he makes. Vince doesn’t move, holding the shot in freeze-frame. “Just let me look at you a minute.”
FIN.