this ain't seaworld, georgie/will p. and implied will/skandar, pg-13
All those other fics I really need to finish, and I randomly churn this out in one night. TYPICAL.
Title: this ain't seaworld
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Georgie/Will P., implied Will/Skandar
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Real person het and implied slash!
Summary: They're on a boat, motherfucker.
A/N: This won't make a lot of sense unless you're familiar with The Lonely Island's I'm On A Boat, and, to a lesser extent, Jizz In My Pants.
"Aw, shit," says Ben, in a voice much unlike his own or Prince Caspian's, "Get your towels ready! It's about to go down!"
Skandar's the first to realise where this is going, and (though he will deny this vehemently later) joins in with a grin. "Everybody in the place, hit the fucking deck!"
"But stay on your motherf-" Georgie starts, but gets Ben's hand clamped over her mouth as a makeshift censor. (Since her 14th birthday he has invented some odd rule that it's okay for her to hear such language, but unacceptable for her to actually use it.)
A bemused smile appears on Will P.'s face and settles into its accustomed position. "What..." he starts.
"You haven't heard 'I'm On A Boat'?"
He shakes his head. "I don't think so..."
"You'd remember," Skandar informs him, nodding firmly. "It's genius."
Ben shakes his head in disappointment. "I bet Will Moseley has heard 'I'm On A Boat'."
He's kidding, but these sorts of comments from Ben are becoming more and more frequent, and Georgie pats Will P. gently on the shoulder in reassurance.
"I'll show it to you on Youtube when we go back to my trailer," she says.
"Oooooh," Skandar teases, and Georgie ignores him. Ignores him, that is, if one doesn't count the blush that spreads brightly across her cheeks.
"We running this, let's go..." Ben murmurs, mostly to himself, gazing off across the water.
And that's how it starts.
Later, Will P. is fully schooled in the ways of The Lonely Island. Georgie, thrilled at how much the video had made him laugh, had instinctively clicked on 'Jizz In My Pants' next because it was right there in the recommended videos panel. She regretted it only a few seconds in, when Will's laughter turned a little uncomfortable and the two of them were shifting rather awkwardly beside each other, squished onto the single seat in Georgie's trailer.
Still, he enjoyed it, and now he gets the joke.
"Please don't show up in your swim trunks on set tomorrow," he says to Ben when they all sit down together at a restaurant that night for dinner.
Ben can't quite hide his glee at the prospect of this becoming a running joke, but he attempts a disappointed face anyway. "But what about my flippy-floppies?"
Will P. cracks up, and Ben decides this definitely has running joke potential.
"I'm on a boat!" Ben bursts out about a minute after they've climbed onto said boat the next day.
"I'm on a boat," Georgie back-up sings, wondering distantly if this makes her the Narnian equivalent of T-Pain.
"I'm on a boat!" Ben repeats, grinning at the puzzled looks the extras are giving them.
"I'm on a boat," Skandar says dutifully, already becoming a little bit sick of this and wishing he could have his phone on set with him. Will insisted on hourly updates, after all.
"Everybody look at me 'cause I'm sailing on a boat!" Ben shouts triumphantly.
"There's no sail," Will P. points out, breaking the flow.
Ben raises his eyebrows at him. "Everybody look at me 'cause I'm rowing in a boat," he amends instantly.
"ACTION," Michael yells from the shore, but Ben is somewhat giddy and after two mess-ups of the scene, they're hearing a loud call of "CUT!"
"You can't stop me, motherfucker, 'cause I'm on a boat," Ben replies, but in a low enough voice for only the people in the boat to hear.
Needless to say, everybody bursts out laughing, and it's several more takes before they manage to get the scene done.
"You didn't pick chicken, did you?" Georgie asks, sitting on a table at craft services with her feet on the chair, and picking at her cheese sandwich unhappily.
Will P. looks down at his own sandwich and then back at her. "No, sorry," he apologises. "I got cheese too. It's not good, is it?"
"Not at all," she replies, wrinkling her nose.
"Don't tell me," he says. "Will Moseley would've picked chicken, and you all miss him and his perfect sandwich-filling choices."
He's speaking in a way that's only partly joking, with some genuine hurt underneath, and Georgie picks up on it immediately. She laughs gently, shaking her head, and kicks out the chair beside her, gesturing at him to sit in it. He does.
"No," she says. "I mean, I do miss him, but he probably wouldn't have picked chicken, 'cause the chicken ones have lettuce in and he's suspicious of leafy green things in his sandwiches."
Will P. looks up at her, and doesn't realise quite how long he's doing it for until she starts looking slightly nervous. "Oh," he says hurriedly, looking back down. He takes a bite of his sandwich for something to do, and immediately regrets it. "I quite like leafy green things," he says through forced chewing.
"Me too," she replies, grinning down at him. "That's one point in the Poulter column."
"What?"
"No-oh god, I'm kidding-" she stammers. "We're not actually scoring the two of you against each other-"
"Ben probably is."
Georgie pushes herself off the table and tosses her sandwich into the bin. "Yeah, well, Ben's a weirdo," she says.
Will P. stands up and throws his away too. "He's on a boat," he shrugs.
When they move on from the smaller rowing boats to the actual Dawn Treader, the joke only escalates.
"I'm the King of the World," Ben warbles between scenes, standing at the helm with his arms out, grinning as the wind whips his hair back, "on a boat like Leo."
"If you're on the shore, then you're sure not me-oh," Will P. chimes in, unable to help himself despite sensing that, at this point, it could be dangerous to encourage Ben further.
"Come up here," Ben says, gesturing.
Will P. has the horrible feeling Ben wants him to be the Rose to his Jack, so he hangs back, sitting on the deck and letting his bemused smile return to its usual position.
"Get the fuck up," Ben instructs. "This boat is real."
"Actually," says Will P., scratching behind his ear, "the Dawn Treader's kind of fictional."
Ben sighs, leaning into the wind and gazing off across the horizon. "Will Moseley is always up for a Titanic re-enactment," he mutters.
"I'm On A Boat is like...the new Check The Gate," Georgie says thoughtfully, sitting and eating chicken-and-lettuce sandwiches with Will P. that lunchtime.
Will P. wonders if he should pretend not to have watched the special features of his The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe DVD, but he's never been a good liar, so he just says, "It's less family-friendly."
"True. We could try make a family-friendly version, but that'd be a challenge..."
Will P. suddenly becomes aware of the fact that he's being watched. By Ben and Skandar, who have inexplicably chosen a different table, and are staring at him intently. Now that he's noticed, they abandon their lunches and head over to him.
"We'd like to invite you for a tea break in my trailer," says Skandar like it's some kind of official event.
"I'm having a sandwich break," Will P. says.
"But wouldn't you like some tea?"
He supposes he would. Instinctively, he looks to Georgie. "Tea?"
"It's that tea you don't like, Georgie," Skandar tells her. "You should stay here."
"Besides, you've got two whole sandwiches to eat," Ben adds, taking Will P.'s sandwich from him and placing it on Georgie's plate.
"Wha-" Georgie begins, through a mouthful of food.
"We're planning your surprise birthday party almost a year in advance," Skandar lies. "And/or talking about boy stuff that would gross you out."
Will P. is rather glad when Skandar gets up from the bed to make the tea, because with one of the guys on each side of him, he was beginning to feel like he was undergoing some sort of interrogation. Which, actually, he kind of was. Except that they weren't really demanding to know things, rather claiming that they already knew them. They told him quite firmly that he fancied Georgie, and that he should do something about it.
But he hasn't said anything except "Milk and two sugars, please," since they entered the trailer.
"Will Moseley always asks girls out when he likes them," Ben promises him.
"Who are you kidding?" laughs Skandar from the kitchen as he gets three mugs out of the cupboard.
Ben sighs. "Okay," he says, "that was an incorrect statement for many reasons. But Will Moseley would definitely never wait a whole two months to ask someone out if he liked them."
"Yeah, two years is more his style."
"Two years?" Will P. repeats in disbelief and horror. He can't go on like this for two whole years.
"Yeah, just something that happened once," Skandar says nonchalantly, popping a teabag into each mug. "Or so I hear."
"Okay, you lot, this scene is an important one," Michael's saying, doing his usual pre-scene pep-talk later that day. "It's a vital part of the movie, and-"
"This ain't Seaworld," Ben says, deadly serious, his voice perfectly steady.
"Er-no. Right. Exactly, Ben," Michael agrees, pressing on. "So if we can start from Lucy's line on page fifty-seven, that'd be great."
"This is real as it gets," Ben adds gravely.
"I'm on a boat, motherfucker, don't you ever forget," Georgie whispers to Will P. when Michael walks away, and her smile against the shell of his ear gives him butterflies.
The next day, Michael asks Skandar why Ben decided it'd be a good idea to stand up on the boat in the middle of a scene, spread his arms out, and ask the Greek god of the sea to look at him.
"What?" is Skandar's baffled response. He puts his phone down, mid-text to Will, and begins to regret the fact that he wasn't involved in the shooting of this scene.
He and Michael look at each other for a moment, and then Michael sighs.
"Poseiiiidon, look at meeeee," he sings, very off-key, raising his arms in the air half-heartedly and looking very confused at his own imitation. "Something like that."
Skandar fights hard against the smile threatening to split his mouth. "It wasn't in the script?" he asks, feigning innocence.
"No..." says Michael, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps it should be, though. It was quite a dramatic moment. That is, until the boat capsized..."
Skandar hurriedly turns a burst of laughter into a coughing fit, and decides to go locate Ben. He finds him sitting with Will P. not far off, smelling faintly of seaweed with a towel around his neck.
"Nice one," he says. "What's going on?"
"I'm trying to get Will to confess his love," Ben says, pointing (not at all subtly) over to where Georgie is talking to a couple of extras by the costume tent. "But he's too much of a wimp." He prods Will P. with his finger. "Go!"
Will P. groans and buries his face in his hands. "I'm not. I can't ever. I want to go home."
"Home? Hey, come on, Will Moseley would never be thousands of miles away from the love of his life," Ben insists.
Skandar snorts rather loudly, but this time says nothing.
It's been quite a while now, and the joke is beginning to wear thin. For everybody but Ben, that is.
"I'm on a boat and-"
Skandar sighs, pulling at loose threads on the hem of his trouser leg and not even caring if he gets into trouble for it.
"-it's going fast and-"
Skandar tears one thread free rather violently, and twists it around his finger.
"-I've got a nautical-themed-"
"No you haven't," Skandar interrupts him, the thread snapping.
Ben attempts to look at his own neck dejectedly. It hurts. He stops. "No," he agrees. "But how good would it be if I did? Do they have afghans in Narnia? Should I talk to the costume department?"
Skandar just stares at him. Ben turns to Will P. instead.
"When we finish this scene," he says, "do you want to come shopping for neckwear?"
Will P. looks at him blankly, and Ben rolls his eyes and sighs a long-suffering sigh.
"Will Moseley would definitely want to come shopping for neckwear," he says. "He's probably shopping for ascots and bowties as we speak."
Georgie snorts. "Yeah, well, you've got the wrong Will, Ben," she says, and pats Will P. sympathetically.
There's been some mix-up with the costumes, meaning that somehow Georgie has ended up one outfit short, and the clothes that are missing are ones needed for a scene they're meant to be shooting in two days. It's not enough time to stitch up a new one so she gets given bits and pieces that the boys have been wearing recently, and has to have it all altered.
So she's standing in the costume tent in her knickers and one of Will P.'s shirts. The shirt still smells like him, she realises, and unrolls a carefully-rolled sleeve just to bring her arm up to her face and inhale.
Will P. walks in at that moment, already in his costume, and he flushes when he sees Georgie standing there in a shirt that skims her bare thighs. "Oh, god, sorry," he stammers, flustered, "I was just-I thought-never mind."
He turns to go, but Georgie just laughs. "It's okay. You can keep me company. Annie's gone to get some more pins."
But Will P. stays facing in the other direction.
"C'mon. Will Moseley wouldn't leave," Georgie teases.
"Well, then," Will P. says, "Will Moseley isn't a gentleman."
"He is where it counts," Skandar assures him in passing, as he wanders past the opening of the tent, and Will P. blinks, turning back to Georgie in confusion.
"You probably don't want to know," is all she says. "Do you want to maybe close that?"
He hesitates, but does as she says, and turns back to her, trying not to look at her long, naked legs. There's a rather awkward silence and then she starts fiddling with her sleeve.
"I probably shouldn't have undone this," she says, trying to roll it back one-handed, and he goes over to help, laughing softly.
His palms are sweaty and his fingers are twitchy and he's not sure when the last time he was this close to her was. And then he gets the sleeve pushed up but it's kind of messy and he wonders if it might fall down again. And then he thinks about how maybe they should make some kind of clasp to keep sleeves bundled up so people wouldn't have to worry about that kind of thing, and he thinks about how he can feel Georgie's breath on his skin, and he wonders if it's possible for one's brain to babble.
His eyes flicker up and he finds that she's looking right at him, so they flicker back down nervously, and then up again when he realises the shirt is unbuttoned rather a lot, and then back down for the exact same reason. And then he gets very flustered indeed.
And then she kisses him.
She sort of giggles against his mouth, breathy and hot, and he grins and then their teeth clash, and she mumbles sorry even though that wasn't her fault. And then she throws her arms over his shoulders and pulls him in close, soft lips sliding warm against his. It lasts about four wonderful seconds and then-
"I come bearing pins," Ben announces, swishing back the curtain, "Annie says she'll just be-oh."
They've jumped apart, but the way they're blushing and wiping their mouths sort of gives it all away. Ben seems to consider several possible reactions, and then shakes his head in mock-disappointment. "Will Moseley would never kiss Georgie in the costume tent."
"Shut up, Ben," Georgie says, recovering quickly from her embarrassment. "Go back to being on a boat."
"Yeah," Will P. echoes, his voice unexpectedly wavery, "fuck land, fuck trees, and all that."
"I climb buoys, motherfucker," Ben informs them almost automatically on his way out.
It takes another four seconds for them to pick up where they left off.
He really, really wants to touch her, but the most natural place for his hands to land is on her thighs, and they're naked, and just the thought of that makes his heart race with how inappropriate it probably is and how maybe she'd slap him. He decides it'd be more okay if he touched her thighs on the way to her hips, or something, so he reaches out, palms sliding up hot, bare skin and rumpling her oversized shirt on their way.
He totally forgot about all the pins stuck in that shirt.
"Ow, ow," he whimpers against her mouth, not wanting to pull away despite the trickle of blood running down his wrist making it rather necessary. "Ow."
"What-oh," Georgie says, pulling his hand up and inspecting the rather deep prick the pin has made in his palm. She thinks for a moment, and then raises her voice. "I'M ASSUMING EITHER BEN OR SKANDAR IS OUTSIDE THE TENT EAVESDROPPING. CAN YOU GO TELL ANNIE TO BRING THE FIRST-AID KIT ALONG WITH THE PINS?"
There's a pause, a shuffle, Skandar's laughter, and then Ben calls back.
Georgie has to wonder how alarming the boys made this request sound, because Annie and half the costume department are hurrying into the tent in no time.
"Honestly," sighs Annie, dabbing antiseptic on Will P.'s hand, "how did this happen?"
"They were making out," Skandar tells her-and everybody present-happily. "Apparently it's dangerous these days."
Ben tuts. "Will Moseley would never get injuries just from kissing someone."
"Oh, how little you know," is Skandar's response.
They're hanging out in Ben's trailer just after breakfast a few days later, waiting to be called to set, when there's a knock on the open door and a man pops his head in, a parcel in his hands.
"Awesome! For me?" Ben asks, leaping up from the bed and rushing to take the package.
"It's from Will," Skandar says, recognising the flourish of Will's handwriting.
Ben tears into it, and inside, he finds a dark blue silky shawl, wrapped in bubble-wrap (because William Moseley would wrap fabric in bubble-wrap). He pulls it out, grinning as the other side of the fabric becomes visible, covered in a pattern of small white anchors.
"It's a nautical-themed pashmina afghan," he says, sounding somewhat awed. "How did he know?"
"I may have mentioned your obsession with the song," Skandar explains.
Ben spends the next five minutes trying to actually tie the thing around his neck, and when he finally manages, they're called to costume.
"I guess that's that, then," he says, pulling it loose again a little sadly.
Not long later, they're on the Dawn Treader once again, waiting for the rest of the scene to finish getting set up, and something just doesn't feel right. They've grown so used to the hollers of I'm on a boat, motherfucker! and Ben's proclamations of riding on dolphins and having sexual relations with mermaids, that the silence is a little unnerving.
"Just a couple more minutes, you lot!" Michael shouts into his megaphone, "just having some trouble with a camera."
"Okay!" they all shout back in unison.
A moment more of that unsettling silence, and then-
"Lock eyes," Ben says intensely, his voice low, "from across the room-"
"Oh, God," Skandar groans.
"I've got that song in my head."
"I know. At least it makes a change."
Will P. and Georgie are lying side-by-side in Georgie's trailer. They've spent so long on boats now that even when they lie still, it feels like they're moving, like the gentle ebb and flow of the ocean is ever present beneath the bed. They're just resting, eyes closed, enjoying the odd trick their minds are playing on them, the feeling of swaying.
"I jizz right in my pants, every time you're next to me," Georgie sings quietly, almost under her breath.
Will P reaches out, laces his fingers through hers. "And when we're holding hands, it's like having sex to me..."
Georgie giggles. "It shouldn't be romantic," she says, "it should just be gross. And yet..."
"If I was Will Moseley," Will P. says a little cheekily, "it'd just be gross."
"This is true," Georgie agrees, squeezing his hand. "One more point in the Poulter column."
End.
Title: this ain't seaworld
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Georgie/Will P., implied Will/Skandar
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Real person het and implied slash!
Summary: They're on a boat, motherfucker.
A/N: This won't make a lot of sense unless you're familiar with The Lonely Island's I'm On A Boat, and, to a lesser extent, Jizz In My Pants.
"Aw, shit," says Ben, in a voice much unlike his own or Prince Caspian's, "Get your towels ready! It's about to go down!"
Skandar's the first to realise where this is going, and (though he will deny this vehemently later) joins in with a grin. "Everybody in the place, hit the fucking deck!"
"But stay on your motherf-" Georgie starts, but gets Ben's hand clamped over her mouth as a makeshift censor. (Since her 14th birthday he has invented some odd rule that it's okay for her to hear such language, but unacceptable for her to actually use it.)
A bemused smile appears on Will P.'s face and settles into its accustomed position. "What..." he starts.
"You haven't heard 'I'm On A Boat'?"
He shakes his head. "I don't think so..."
"You'd remember," Skandar informs him, nodding firmly. "It's genius."
Ben shakes his head in disappointment. "I bet Will Moseley has heard 'I'm On A Boat'."
He's kidding, but these sorts of comments from Ben are becoming more and more frequent, and Georgie pats Will P. gently on the shoulder in reassurance.
"I'll show it to you on Youtube when we go back to my trailer," she says.
"Oooooh," Skandar teases, and Georgie ignores him. Ignores him, that is, if one doesn't count the blush that spreads brightly across her cheeks.
"We running this, let's go..." Ben murmurs, mostly to himself, gazing off across the water.
And that's how it starts.
Later, Will P. is fully schooled in the ways of The Lonely Island. Georgie, thrilled at how much the video had made him laugh, had instinctively clicked on 'Jizz In My Pants' next because it was right there in the recommended videos panel. She regretted it only a few seconds in, when Will's laughter turned a little uncomfortable and the two of them were shifting rather awkwardly beside each other, squished onto the single seat in Georgie's trailer.
Still, he enjoyed it, and now he gets the joke.
"Please don't show up in your swim trunks on set tomorrow," he says to Ben when they all sit down together at a restaurant that night for dinner.
Ben can't quite hide his glee at the prospect of this becoming a running joke, but he attempts a disappointed face anyway. "But what about my flippy-floppies?"
Will P. cracks up, and Ben decides this definitely has running joke potential.
"I'm on a boat!" Ben bursts out about a minute after they've climbed onto said boat the next day.
"I'm on a boat," Georgie back-up sings, wondering distantly if this makes her the Narnian equivalent of T-Pain.
"I'm on a boat!" Ben repeats, grinning at the puzzled looks the extras are giving them.
"I'm on a boat," Skandar says dutifully, already becoming a little bit sick of this and wishing he could have his phone on set with him. Will insisted on hourly updates, after all.
"Everybody look at me 'cause I'm sailing on a boat!" Ben shouts triumphantly.
"There's no sail," Will P. points out, breaking the flow.
Ben raises his eyebrows at him. "Everybody look at me 'cause I'm rowing in a boat," he amends instantly.
"ACTION," Michael yells from the shore, but Ben is somewhat giddy and after two mess-ups of the scene, they're hearing a loud call of "CUT!"
"You can't stop me, motherfucker, 'cause I'm on a boat," Ben replies, but in a low enough voice for only the people in the boat to hear.
Needless to say, everybody bursts out laughing, and it's several more takes before they manage to get the scene done.
"You didn't pick chicken, did you?" Georgie asks, sitting on a table at craft services with her feet on the chair, and picking at her cheese sandwich unhappily.
Will P. looks down at his own sandwich and then back at her. "No, sorry," he apologises. "I got cheese too. It's not good, is it?"
"Not at all," she replies, wrinkling her nose.
"Don't tell me," he says. "Will Moseley would've picked chicken, and you all miss him and his perfect sandwich-filling choices."
He's speaking in a way that's only partly joking, with some genuine hurt underneath, and Georgie picks up on it immediately. She laughs gently, shaking her head, and kicks out the chair beside her, gesturing at him to sit in it. He does.
"No," she says. "I mean, I do miss him, but he probably wouldn't have picked chicken, 'cause the chicken ones have lettuce in and he's suspicious of leafy green things in his sandwiches."
Will P. looks up at her, and doesn't realise quite how long he's doing it for until she starts looking slightly nervous. "Oh," he says hurriedly, looking back down. He takes a bite of his sandwich for something to do, and immediately regrets it. "I quite like leafy green things," he says through forced chewing.
"Me too," she replies, grinning down at him. "That's one point in the Poulter column."
"What?"
"No-oh god, I'm kidding-" she stammers. "We're not actually scoring the two of you against each other-"
"Ben probably is."
Georgie pushes herself off the table and tosses her sandwich into the bin. "Yeah, well, Ben's a weirdo," she says.
Will P. stands up and throws his away too. "He's on a boat," he shrugs.
When they move on from the smaller rowing boats to the actual Dawn Treader, the joke only escalates.
"I'm the King of the World," Ben warbles between scenes, standing at the helm with his arms out, grinning as the wind whips his hair back, "on a boat like Leo."
"If you're on the shore, then you're sure not me-oh," Will P. chimes in, unable to help himself despite sensing that, at this point, it could be dangerous to encourage Ben further.
"Come up here," Ben says, gesturing.
Will P. has the horrible feeling Ben wants him to be the Rose to his Jack, so he hangs back, sitting on the deck and letting his bemused smile return to its usual position.
"Get the fuck up," Ben instructs. "This boat is real."
"Actually," says Will P., scratching behind his ear, "the Dawn Treader's kind of fictional."
Ben sighs, leaning into the wind and gazing off across the horizon. "Will Moseley is always up for a Titanic re-enactment," he mutters.
"I'm On A Boat is like...the new Check The Gate," Georgie says thoughtfully, sitting and eating chicken-and-lettuce sandwiches with Will P. that lunchtime.
Will P. wonders if he should pretend not to have watched the special features of his The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe DVD, but he's never been a good liar, so he just says, "It's less family-friendly."
"True. We could try make a family-friendly version, but that'd be a challenge..."
Will P. suddenly becomes aware of the fact that he's being watched. By Ben and Skandar, who have inexplicably chosen a different table, and are staring at him intently. Now that he's noticed, they abandon their lunches and head over to him.
"We'd like to invite you for a tea break in my trailer," says Skandar like it's some kind of official event.
"I'm having a sandwich break," Will P. says.
"But wouldn't you like some tea?"
He supposes he would. Instinctively, he looks to Georgie. "Tea?"
"It's that tea you don't like, Georgie," Skandar tells her. "You should stay here."
"Besides, you've got two whole sandwiches to eat," Ben adds, taking Will P.'s sandwich from him and placing it on Georgie's plate.
"Wha-" Georgie begins, through a mouthful of food.
"We're planning your surprise birthday party almost a year in advance," Skandar lies. "And/or talking about boy stuff that would gross you out."
Will P. is rather glad when Skandar gets up from the bed to make the tea, because with one of the guys on each side of him, he was beginning to feel like he was undergoing some sort of interrogation. Which, actually, he kind of was. Except that they weren't really demanding to know things, rather claiming that they already knew them. They told him quite firmly that he fancied Georgie, and that he should do something about it.
But he hasn't said anything except "Milk and two sugars, please," since they entered the trailer.
"Will Moseley always asks girls out when he likes them," Ben promises him.
"Who are you kidding?" laughs Skandar from the kitchen as he gets three mugs out of the cupboard.
Ben sighs. "Okay," he says, "that was an incorrect statement for many reasons. But Will Moseley would definitely never wait a whole two months to ask someone out if he liked them."
"Yeah, two years is more his style."
"Two years?" Will P. repeats in disbelief and horror. He can't go on like this for two whole years.
"Yeah, just something that happened once," Skandar says nonchalantly, popping a teabag into each mug. "Or so I hear."
"Okay, you lot, this scene is an important one," Michael's saying, doing his usual pre-scene pep-talk later that day. "It's a vital part of the movie, and-"
"This ain't Seaworld," Ben says, deadly serious, his voice perfectly steady.
"Er-no. Right. Exactly, Ben," Michael agrees, pressing on. "So if we can start from Lucy's line on page fifty-seven, that'd be great."
"This is real as it gets," Ben adds gravely.
"I'm on a boat, motherfucker, don't you ever forget," Georgie whispers to Will P. when Michael walks away, and her smile against the shell of his ear gives him butterflies.
The next day, Michael asks Skandar why Ben decided it'd be a good idea to stand up on the boat in the middle of a scene, spread his arms out, and ask the Greek god of the sea to look at him.
"What?" is Skandar's baffled response. He puts his phone down, mid-text to Will, and begins to regret the fact that he wasn't involved in the shooting of this scene.
He and Michael look at each other for a moment, and then Michael sighs.
"Poseiiiidon, look at meeeee," he sings, very off-key, raising his arms in the air half-heartedly and looking very confused at his own imitation. "Something like that."
Skandar fights hard against the smile threatening to split his mouth. "It wasn't in the script?" he asks, feigning innocence.
"No..." says Michael, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps it should be, though. It was quite a dramatic moment. That is, until the boat capsized..."
Skandar hurriedly turns a burst of laughter into a coughing fit, and decides to go locate Ben. He finds him sitting with Will P. not far off, smelling faintly of seaweed with a towel around his neck.
"Nice one," he says. "What's going on?"
"I'm trying to get Will to confess his love," Ben says, pointing (not at all subtly) over to where Georgie is talking to a couple of extras by the costume tent. "But he's too much of a wimp." He prods Will P. with his finger. "Go!"
Will P. groans and buries his face in his hands. "I'm not. I can't ever. I want to go home."
"Home? Hey, come on, Will Moseley would never be thousands of miles away from the love of his life," Ben insists.
Skandar snorts rather loudly, but this time says nothing.
It's been quite a while now, and the joke is beginning to wear thin. For everybody but Ben, that is.
"I'm on a boat and-"
Skandar sighs, pulling at loose threads on the hem of his trouser leg and not even caring if he gets into trouble for it.
"-it's going fast and-"
Skandar tears one thread free rather violently, and twists it around his finger.
"-I've got a nautical-themed-"
"No you haven't," Skandar interrupts him, the thread snapping.
Ben attempts to look at his own neck dejectedly. It hurts. He stops. "No," he agrees. "But how good would it be if I did? Do they have afghans in Narnia? Should I talk to the costume department?"
Skandar just stares at him. Ben turns to Will P. instead.
"When we finish this scene," he says, "do you want to come shopping for neckwear?"
Will P. looks at him blankly, and Ben rolls his eyes and sighs a long-suffering sigh.
"Will Moseley would definitely want to come shopping for neckwear," he says. "He's probably shopping for ascots and bowties as we speak."
Georgie snorts. "Yeah, well, you've got the wrong Will, Ben," she says, and pats Will P. sympathetically.
There's been some mix-up with the costumes, meaning that somehow Georgie has ended up one outfit short, and the clothes that are missing are ones needed for a scene they're meant to be shooting in two days. It's not enough time to stitch up a new one so she gets given bits and pieces that the boys have been wearing recently, and has to have it all altered.
So she's standing in the costume tent in her knickers and one of Will P.'s shirts. The shirt still smells like him, she realises, and unrolls a carefully-rolled sleeve just to bring her arm up to her face and inhale.
Will P. walks in at that moment, already in his costume, and he flushes when he sees Georgie standing there in a shirt that skims her bare thighs. "Oh, god, sorry," he stammers, flustered, "I was just-I thought-never mind."
He turns to go, but Georgie just laughs. "It's okay. You can keep me company. Annie's gone to get some more pins."
But Will P. stays facing in the other direction.
"C'mon. Will Moseley wouldn't leave," Georgie teases.
"Well, then," Will P. says, "Will Moseley isn't a gentleman."
"He is where it counts," Skandar assures him in passing, as he wanders past the opening of the tent, and Will P. blinks, turning back to Georgie in confusion.
"You probably don't want to know," is all she says. "Do you want to maybe close that?"
He hesitates, but does as she says, and turns back to her, trying not to look at her long, naked legs. There's a rather awkward silence and then she starts fiddling with her sleeve.
"I probably shouldn't have undone this," she says, trying to roll it back one-handed, and he goes over to help, laughing softly.
His palms are sweaty and his fingers are twitchy and he's not sure when the last time he was this close to her was. And then he gets the sleeve pushed up but it's kind of messy and he wonders if it might fall down again. And then he thinks about how maybe they should make some kind of clasp to keep sleeves bundled up so people wouldn't have to worry about that kind of thing, and he thinks about how he can feel Georgie's breath on his skin, and he wonders if it's possible for one's brain to babble.
His eyes flicker up and he finds that she's looking right at him, so they flicker back down nervously, and then up again when he realises the shirt is unbuttoned rather a lot, and then back down for the exact same reason. And then he gets very flustered indeed.
And then she kisses him.
She sort of giggles against his mouth, breathy and hot, and he grins and then their teeth clash, and she mumbles sorry even though that wasn't her fault. And then she throws her arms over his shoulders and pulls him in close, soft lips sliding warm against his. It lasts about four wonderful seconds and then-
"I come bearing pins," Ben announces, swishing back the curtain, "Annie says she'll just be-oh."
They've jumped apart, but the way they're blushing and wiping their mouths sort of gives it all away. Ben seems to consider several possible reactions, and then shakes his head in mock-disappointment. "Will Moseley would never kiss Georgie in the costume tent."
"Shut up, Ben," Georgie says, recovering quickly from her embarrassment. "Go back to being on a boat."
"Yeah," Will P. echoes, his voice unexpectedly wavery, "fuck land, fuck trees, and all that."
"I climb buoys, motherfucker," Ben informs them almost automatically on his way out.
It takes another four seconds for them to pick up where they left off.
He really, really wants to touch her, but the most natural place for his hands to land is on her thighs, and they're naked, and just the thought of that makes his heart race with how inappropriate it probably is and how maybe she'd slap him. He decides it'd be more okay if he touched her thighs on the way to her hips, or something, so he reaches out, palms sliding up hot, bare skin and rumpling her oversized shirt on their way.
He totally forgot about all the pins stuck in that shirt.
"Ow, ow," he whimpers against her mouth, not wanting to pull away despite the trickle of blood running down his wrist making it rather necessary. "Ow."
"What-oh," Georgie says, pulling his hand up and inspecting the rather deep prick the pin has made in his palm. She thinks for a moment, and then raises her voice. "I'M ASSUMING EITHER BEN OR SKANDAR IS OUTSIDE THE TENT EAVESDROPPING. CAN YOU GO TELL ANNIE TO BRING THE FIRST-AID KIT ALONG WITH THE PINS?"
There's a pause, a shuffle, Skandar's laughter, and then Ben calls back.
Georgie has to wonder how alarming the boys made this request sound, because Annie and half the costume department are hurrying into the tent in no time.
"Honestly," sighs Annie, dabbing antiseptic on Will P.'s hand, "how did this happen?"
"They were making out," Skandar tells her-and everybody present-happily. "Apparently it's dangerous these days."
Ben tuts. "Will Moseley would never get injuries just from kissing someone."
"Oh, how little you know," is Skandar's response.
They're hanging out in Ben's trailer just after breakfast a few days later, waiting to be called to set, when there's a knock on the open door and a man pops his head in, a parcel in his hands.
"Awesome! For me?" Ben asks, leaping up from the bed and rushing to take the package.
"It's from Will," Skandar says, recognising the flourish of Will's handwriting.
Ben tears into it, and inside, he finds a dark blue silky shawl, wrapped in bubble-wrap (because William Moseley would wrap fabric in bubble-wrap). He pulls it out, grinning as the other side of the fabric becomes visible, covered in a pattern of small white anchors.
"It's a nautical-themed pashmina afghan," he says, sounding somewhat awed. "How did he know?"
"I may have mentioned your obsession with the song," Skandar explains.
Ben spends the next five minutes trying to actually tie the thing around his neck, and when he finally manages, they're called to costume.
"I guess that's that, then," he says, pulling it loose again a little sadly.
Not long later, they're on the Dawn Treader once again, waiting for the rest of the scene to finish getting set up, and something just doesn't feel right. They've grown so used to the hollers of I'm on a boat, motherfucker! and Ben's proclamations of riding on dolphins and having sexual relations with mermaids, that the silence is a little unnerving.
"Just a couple more minutes, you lot!" Michael shouts into his megaphone, "just having some trouble with a camera."
"Okay!" they all shout back in unison.
A moment more of that unsettling silence, and then-
"Lock eyes," Ben says intensely, his voice low, "from across the room-"
"Oh, God," Skandar groans.
"I've got that song in my head."
"I know. At least it makes a change."
Will P. and Georgie are lying side-by-side in Georgie's trailer. They've spent so long on boats now that even when they lie still, it feels like they're moving, like the gentle ebb and flow of the ocean is ever present beneath the bed. They're just resting, eyes closed, enjoying the odd trick their minds are playing on them, the feeling of swaying.
"I jizz right in my pants, every time you're next to me," Georgie sings quietly, almost under her breath.
Will P reaches out, laces his fingers through hers. "And when we're holding hands, it's like having sex to me..."
Georgie giggles. "It shouldn't be romantic," she says, "it should just be gross. And yet..."
"If I was Will Moseley," Will P. says a little cheekily, "it'd just be gross."
"This is true," Georgie agrees, squeezing his hand. "One more point in the Poulter column."
End.