Habits

Erin

*********

October

“Ah, the ever-changing head of hair that is Randy Harrison.” Gale looks like he always does, freshly fucked and slightly tweaked. Most of the time that is exactly what he is, and Randy should know. There was a period of time when he was responsible for both conditions.

But not anymore. Not on either account. Randy gave up smoking and gave up fucking straight men. Some habits are simply bad for your health.

“Fuck you, Gale.” Randy rolls his eyes and tries to move past without letting their bodies touch. Randy was always cautious of inadvertent sexuality, which makes his current job amusing.

Gale’s hand slides gracefully around Randy’s bicep and holds tight. He takes a swallow of the big-gulp size coffee in his other hand before he leans too close to Randy’s face. His designer for-disguise-purposes-only sunglasses slide down his nose, revealing his blood shot, beautiful hazel eyes.

“Missed you,” he says quietly just for Randy. Then he grazes Randy’s lips and pulls away too quickly. Randy’s gut clenches and he prays Gale can’t feel his heart go triple time like the wings of a fruit fly. Randy hates that this gorgeous idiot still makes him feel this way. It’s been too long and it’s far too late for feelings like these.

Every time he licks his lips the rest of the day he tastes cheap coffee…and Gale.

November

Gale walks into Randy’s trailer without knocking, which he has often done, but not very much anymore. Randy’s found that familiarity fades over time.

“What the fuck?” Randy finishes pulling up Justin’s pants and turns away from Gale as he does it.

Gale chuckles, he finds it funny that Randy can possibly be shy about anything in front of him. “I brought you a coffee.” He puts a Starbucks cup on the counter and then stands there watching Randy. He looks obviously to Randy’s bare chest. Randy’s body is still so impossibly young looking, even after five hard years. He’s still all alabaster and porcelain and innocence on the outside, but Gale knows the truth.

”Are you going home for turkey?” Gale sips his coffee and takes a seat on the only clear surface, the bed.

“I don’t know. What home?” Randy likes to be dramatic around Gale.

“Your parents, New York, wherever.”

Randy lowers his eyes, “I’m staying here.”

“Oh,” Gale shifts his eyes from Randy to the steaming cup in front of him. “I’m not going anywhere either.” Gale hadn’t really been sure what he was going to do, but Randy makes the choice easy. They only have five days off, it’s not quite enough to really go anywhere, but it’s too much to stick around town with no plans. Five days alone can fuck with your head. Five days with Randy can fuck with your head too. But it’s the kind of mind fuck Gale is used to.

Gale clears his throat and stands up; he has to be on set in ten minutes. “We should do something together maybe.”

When he turns to walk out Randy hopes Gale can’t hear him whimper.

December

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Gale’s eyes belie his innocent tone.

“You know I don’t do that shit,” Randy breezes past Gale and starts changing into the wardrobe he needs for his afternoon shoot.

When he leans over to peel off his jeans Gale tackles him to the ground. They hit the dirty floor with an audible thud and Randy immediately starts to struggle and bitch, “What the fuck! Get off me!”

Gale pins him to the ground easily and silences him with a kiss. After a moment Randy becomes slack and pliable and compliant. When Gale is sure the yelling is over he breaks the kiss, “Stay here with me.”

“Fuck you,” Randy’s voice isn’t angry, just defeated.

“That’s the idea,” Gale kisses him again and Randy lets him for a little while. Finally Randy musters the strength to turn his head to the side and break their connection.

“Get off of me. I can’t do this.”

Gale doesn’t move, “We are doing this. We’ve been doing this.”

“Not anymore. We can’t anymore. I keep telling you this shit is over.” Randy refuses to look up at Gale so Gale tugs on his chin and forces the issue.

Randy finally resigns and meets Gale’s eyes. Gale nods approval, “You keep saying it’s over but we keep doing it. You keep coming back. Must be good.” Gale smirks despite his efforts not to.

”It’s not good,” Randy whispers. “It’s killing me.”

January

“Was Santa good to you?” Gale is less cocky that he usually is. Something has shifted between them. Randy did leave Toronto for the holiday season and didn’t return any of Gale’s phone calls.

“No,” Randy’s in full pout mode. Gale woke him up with relentless, loud knocking on the one morning of the week Randy lets himself sleep late.

“Come on,” Gale sits down too close to Randy on the couch. Randy’s thighs shake and he hopes it isn’t noticeable.

“I got a new iPod, you know I broke the other when I threw it at you that time. That’s about it.”

Gale nods and then leans over and kisses Randy. Randy winces and shuts his eyes tight. He resists for only a moment and then he gives in and lets it go on for a minute, maybe two. Then he pushes Gale’s chest half heartedly, “Get out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Gale stands and smiles down at Randy, seems this is some small victory after weeks and weeks of no contact.

Fucker, Randy thinks as he watches Gale walk out the front door.

February

“Are you going to see him for Valentine’s Day?” Gale’s question catches Randy off guard. They’re having their makeup done for a sex scene, both of their tattoos are being shellacked and Randy had been reveling in the symmetry of the event.

“What? Who? No. What are you talking about?” Gale loves it when Randy’s flustered. Only then does Gale feel like he’s the one in control.

Gale smirks and they go film the scene seven times before the director is satisfied. Randy bites Gale harder than he has to and Gale has to work to keep the smile off his face.

March

At midnight on a Tuesday Randy shows up on Gale’s doorstep drunker than drunk.

“Why do you never, ever stop? You relentless bastard!” Randy tosses his arms in the air and nearly falls on his face, but Gale is there (though groggy) to catch him.

He drags Randy inside and throws him onto the couch. He takes off Randy’s jacket and his shoes and then sits down next to him.

Randy’s head falls into Gale’s lap and he is immediately asleep. Gale watches him snore for hours, wondering over all of the things he could have done differently.

In the morning Gale’s head is hanging off the edge of the couch and his neck feels broken. Randy is gone, but there is coffee brewing. Randy never was good at apologies.

April

At the wrap party Randy walks around hand-in-hand with some dark haired writer with a brilliant white smile and cheekbones too perfect. Gale figures he acquired these features as part of some Extreme Makeover package.

Gale runs his tongue over his crooked tooth too many times and has seven drinks in roughly an hour. He doesn’t remembering calling the cab or leaving the party. And when the cab pulls up to his door Gale doesn’t notice Randy sitting on the front steps until he trips over him.

Randy stands up abruptly and starts to walk away.

“Wait,” Gale manages, though it’s hard.

Randy turns around, “What the fuck are we doing?” His voice is low and tight and very, very serious.

“I’m so drunk,” Gale stumbles and Randy moves to hold him up. Randy takes the keys from Gale’s pocket and lets them into the house.

“Did he matter?” Gale asks when Randy dumps him in the center of the bed.

“Did he…oh,” Randy stumbles for a reply. “No, not really. No.”

“Do I matter?” Gale’s voice is innocent and open in a way it hasn’t been for as long as Randy can remember. Suddenly Randy feels like someone he used to be.

Randy sits on the bed with a thud and the movement of the mattress makes Gale nauseas. Randy sighs and Gale barters with any god who will listen, he offers to trade his first born or a vital organ if he can just not vomit in this, seemingly pivotal, moment.

Par for the course, Gale gets his head just over the edge of the bed before the whiskies in his stomach start to come up. He tries to remember when he last ate, but all he can pictures is dark brown sweet burning liquid.

Randy helps Gale to the bathroom even as Gale is puking all over Randy’s right leg. Randy stays with Gale until it seems Gale won’t die. Then Randy strips Gale naked, throws him in bed and leaves the house without a word.

In the morning Gale’s mouth tastes like death and he can’t remember when it was his life got so fucked up.

**

May

Randy moves to New York in early May and doesn’t call to say goodbye to Gale. He’s been living in his apartment for two weeks when the knock comes at the door.

Randy’s in boxers and a t-shirt with his glasses on and a page of The Times dangling from his left hand, just like he is any given Sunday morning.

Randy swings the door open and starts to speak, but nothing comes out before Gale’s mouth is covering his.

Randy’s glasses come off and his paper falls to the floor and then his boxers are around his knees and Gale is pulling him down to the ground. Randy’s staring up at his ceiling, which he notes is a nice ceiling, with his pulsing dick down Gale’s throat and he has no idea how he got here.

“Gale, God, fuck, yes,” Randy can’t remember when he’s ever been so loud, so turned on.

When he comes he presses his eyes closed so tight he sees stars. He’s panting and trying to breathe when Gale’s mouth is on his again. He wonders if Gale was always this good of a kisser.

Gale undresses Randy slowly, runs his tongue over every inch of pale, flawless skin. He pushes Randy’s thighs apart and puts his tongue inside him roughly. Gale moans and probes and seems starved for the contact. Randy wonders when Gale last had sex.

After they fuck, once on the floor and once on the bed - Gale insists on moving when he sees how red Randy’s knees get, Gale sits up and stares at Randy for a long time.

“Why did you let me in?” He finally quirks an eyebrow and speaks.

Randy barks out a laugh, “You broke my door down.”

“No, I mean,” Gale’s voice gets quiet. Suddenly Randy realizes what he means. That’s Gale’s polite way of asking why he was finally allowed to fuck Randy. In all of their previous encounters Randy never even seemed to entertain the idea.

Randy shrugs, “Don’t know, just seemed right.”

“Yeah,” Gale smiles and lies down next to Randy again.

“So how long are you here?” Randy digs a pack of cigarettes out of the table by the bed, the pack he swore he was only keeping in case of an emergency.

“Long as you want me to be,” Gale’s voice is steady and honest.

Randy nods and lights a cigarette. Takes a drag and hands it to Gale.

Gale shakes his head and mutters, “Quit.”

“What?” Randy sits up, Gale not smoking is like…well it’s like Randy not being gay. These things are inherently part of their makeup.

Gale smiles and cards his fingers through his hair. “Some habits are bad for your health.”

Randy’s heart thumps in his chest and he leans down to kiss Gale. When he pulls back he puts out the cigarette and replies, “And some are vital to your well being.”

Gale furrows his brow and nearly asks what Randy means, but then Randy’s sliding on top of him and sucking his neck and he figures it doesn’t matter as long as he keeps doing that.

End

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