Rhiannonhero
I sat down this evening to write an RPS story from Randy's point of view. I
got about eight paragraphs into it when this story showed up instead. Who knows
if I'll finish the other one.
Rating: NC-17
Author Notes: Thanks so much to wrenlet
for the super fast beta. *hugs* Any lingering mistakes are mine alone. Now,
on to the story!
Feedback: rhiannonhero@yahoo.com
*******************************************************************************
"There're bottles on the window sill
They've got a tale to tell
And I can't put it any other way." ~ Superdrag
~@~
You know what sucks? Discovering ten years too late that you were in love with your co-star.
You know what sucks even more? Figuring out that you're still in love with him.
I was feeling morbid and old, drunk on whiskey that really wasn't all that good. The strange and familiar longing was so strong that I sat down on the couch, cradling my head in my hands. I could never place it before, could never really find what I missed down to my bones. For years I told myself it was Jessica, or Miria. Then after my mom died, I told myself that I was missing my mother.
But that night, I lifted my head from my hands and locked my eyes on the screen flickering with re-runs of Queer As Folk, the formerly controversial show that I'd starred in--once upon a time, long, long ago.
In a kingdom far, far away.
In the land where Prince Brian found, wooed and was tamed by his princess.
I smiled a little at the thought of Justin being Brian's princess, but, really, he was, so--yeah. Somehow, though, I doubted either character would appreciate the analogy. I blamed the liquor.
And that's when it hit me, hard like a freight train to the gut. It wasn't Jessica or Miria and it sure as hell wasn't my mom. I missed him.
I missed Randy.
With every fiber in my being I missed him. A soul deep yearning that had been blindsiding me for years, breaking up relationships that were meaningless because, oh God, I'd given my heart away years ago and never even knew that it was missing. All those rumors that I was a heartless, twat-seeking bastard weren't too far off the mark. I'd been missing the core of me for a long, long time. Wow, that was pretty damn melodramatic. Again, I blamed the liquor.
And he was with someone now, all settled down in a lovely little villa in the hills above Malibu. It had been, what? Two years since I'd seen him? Ten months since I'd talked to him?
I checked the clock. Two oh eight a.m. Not the best time to call someone, really. He was probably asleep snuggled up next to his partner. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I suddenly recalled the scent of his neck. It was a scent that only a lover would know. But we'd never been lovers, just friends.
Just friends who made out in front of a small group of people while wearing next to nothing at least once a week for six to four months of the year.
I knew things about him that no friend would know. I knew how he tasted, how his breath felt against my stomach, how his soft, firm hands felt tugging at my shoulders, in my hair, pulling me down for fierce kisses that I returned in kind. Friends usually don't know that sort of thing about one another.
So, the phone. I could call. He'd be kind of pissy at first, but he'd get over it.
But what the hell was I going to say? Hey, it's me, Gale. I just realized I'm in love with you? Uh huh.
Well, really, on second thought, that's not a bad opening. It held all of the makings of good drama--surprise, revelation, potential disaster. Yeah, really, why not? Heh. So, yeah, that was the liquor, too.
But I did it. I actually picked up the phone and fucking called him. He sounded disoriented, his voice deep and scratchy, sexy in a way that made me ache.
"Hey, it's me Gale."
"Gale? It's two in the morning. Is everything okay?"
"No. Not really."
I could hear him rustling around and the soft murmur of a masculine voice to which he whispered, "It's Gale. Go back to sleep."
"What's going on? Are you okay?"
He sounded more alert now. So, I took a deep breath and said, "I just figured out that I'm in love with you."
Silence.
More silence.
I downed the rest of my glass of whiskey. Fucking liquor.
"Is this a joke?"
"Uh..." I stared at the screen, Brian and Justin kissing, me and Randy kissing. "Should I say yes?"
Silence.
"Shit. Listen, hold on. I can't talk about this here."
He put me on hold without asking and I imagined him rolling out of bed naked or maybe just in his underwear, saying over his shoulder to the guy he'd shared his life with for the last year, "Gale's having an identity crisis. I'll be back soon."
I snorted at the fantasy. I poured another glass of whiskey and held it up to the light. Okay, so far, so good, man. I'd just told Randy that I was in love with him and now I was waiting for him to come back to the phone.
Wait a minute.
Fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. I'd just told Randy that I loved him and now I was waiting for him to come back to the phone? Had I gone insane? Fucking liquor! Fucking idiot! What the fuck was I doing?
I pressed the disconnect button and stared at the phone in my hand. I started to shake, my pulse racing in my throat, pounding in my ears. And, shit, the phone was ringing. I stared at it. The phone was ringing. That was Randy, calling me back because I'd called him at two in the fucking morning to announce that I was in love with him.
I buried the phone under the cushions of the sofa and willed it to stop ringing, willed time to reverse and unravel the mess that I'd made of it all. It'd been ten years! What the hell was I thinking? He was with someone! And as for me, I was, ostensibly straight, well, straight-ish. And I was in love with him. Still.
The answering service picked up and I scrambled off the couch to turn off the screening speaker I'd left on earlier. Yes, earlier when I wasn't so drunk, but still too lazy to even look at the caller ID on the phone.
Randy's voice cut through the room, low and worried, "Gale? If you can hear this, pick up the phone." There was a long moment of silence as he waited. "Please, Gale. We should talk about this. Pick up the phone."
I stopped in the middle of the room, my legs quivering and my hands trembling so hard that I pressed them together in an attempt to gain some control. The call disconnected and I sank down to the floor, burying my face in knees.
I rocked back and forth, the dark of the room sinking into me as I shivered alone on the floor.
The phone started ringing again. I shook my head and felt the tears welling in my eyes. I was the biggest fucking idiot ever. Here I was in a nice house in Beverly Hills, living the dream, with the car and the women and the career that wouldn't quit, despite my many short-comings. And what was I doing? Fucking coming out of the closet at this late date? And over a guy who was happily settled down with someone? And who had never, ever come onto me? Well not since said guy was rebuffed early in the first season when he'd made a small pass.
The answering service picked up and again Randy's voice filled the room. "Gale, listen, it's two in the morning. I'm sitting here in my office, shivering and worried. Pick up the goddamn phone." Silence. "Gale, this is pissing me off. You can't do this to me. You can't call me in the middle of the night and shake up my world and then just run the fuck away." Silence. Randy came back, his voice more contrite. "I'm sorry. Gale, come on, don't make me beg."
I lifted my head and turned toward the answering service's speaker as though Randy would be standing right there.
"Because I will beg, Gale. If you make me." A mixture of desperation and seduction in his voice.
A long moment passed and for a second I thought he'd hung up, but then I heard his deep sigh. I shifted on to my hands and knees, crawled over to the couch and dug the phone out of the cushions. I hesitated for another few seconds before I answered. Even so, I didn't have any words, not even a hello. I just waited.
"Gale."
"Yeah."
"Are you drunk?"
I crawled up onto the couch and, still holding the phone to my ear, buried my head beneath a pillow. "Yeah."
"I was afraid of that."
"It doesn't matter. It doesn't change things." I squeezed my eyes closed and bit my lower lip. Really, I tended to make a lot of poor choices when I was drunk. I really might want to give that some thought. Maybe I should swear off drinking forever.
"Actually, it does. Would you have called me if you were sober?"
"No." I could answer that one honestly and without hesitation. I knew that there was no way in hell I would've been this stupid if I'd been sober.
"Then why did you call now?" The rustle of fabric over fabric sifted through the phone lines and I imagined Randy pulling a warm, fuzzy blanket over himself, stretched out on that worn old sofa in his office.
"Because I just figured it out. Just now. I realized." I felt my chest grow tight and I groaned. "I don't feel so good."
"Are you going to throw up?"
"No. It's my chest. Feels like I can't breathe."
"You're freaking out, Gale. You need to relax. It's going to be okay."
"Ha!" I snorted and sat up, throwing the pillow across the room. "Easy for you to say! You're not the one having an emotional breakdown because you realized that you're in love with your best friend, who, by the way, I didn't even know I considered to be my best friend until tonight." I took a tight breath and continued. "You're not the one who is ten years away from when he should have realized that he wasn't as straight as he thought. You're not the one who's sitting alone in an empty house, drunk and scared."
Randy's voice was quiet. "No, I'm not. But I am the guy who's just received the phone call that he spent eight years of his life waiting for until he finally gave up. I'm the guy who has a lover in the next room waiting for me to return to bed when the only thing I want to do right now is walk out of the house, get in my car and go to you. I'm the guy who just woke up in a totally different world than the one he went to sleep in."
I didn't know what to say. I said the only thing I could think of. "Will you?"
"Will I what?"
"Will you come to me?"
Randy made a small strangling sound. "God. Do you know how long I've waited to hear those words? Do you have any idea? And now of all times. Jesus, you have shit for timing."
"I'm sorry." I glanced over at the television. Emmett and Ted. Scott and Peter. I missed them, too. But there was no yearning, just friendly missing. My heart was no longer racing. It rested in my chest with a heavy sorrow of acknowledged loss. "I should go. I shouldn't have called. I don't know what I was thinking."
Randy asked, "Do you still want me to come over?"
I started to shake all over again. "Yes," I whispered.
"Give me an hour. I'll be there. I promise."
~@~
He smelled just the way I remembered, tasted the same, too.
It was comfort. And the ache of loneliness in my heart that I'd felt for years was gone. I hadn't known what to expect when he arrived. I'd nearly lost my mind in the time between hanging up the phone and the sound of his car on the drive. I can't even imagine what I looked like when I flung the door open, bedraggled and haggard, that's for sure. Wild-eyed and psychotic, possibly.
Randy looked like he had just rolled out of bed, which he had, I suppose. His hair mussed up and misbehaving. He looked amazing.
I stood staring at him, the cool night air drifting into the house. Randy smiled, took my hand, pushed me into the house and closed the door behind us. I think I was still shaking at that point, but I'm not sure.
"You look like hell."
"I know." I scrubbed my free hand over my face, savoring the feel of his fingers in mine. It'd been a long time. "It's been a fucked up night."
And he was in my arms. I pulled him close and held on tight. I don't know how long we stood in the foyer by the front door just holding on like that, but it didn't seem long enough. I nestled my face into the crook of his neck and breathed in his scent, kissed him there and tasted his skin.
Nothing too overt happened that night. After all, Randy was in a committed relationship and my sudden emotional breakdown didn't really inspire confidence in either of us that there was potential for something more than comfort between us. It wasn't enough to jeopardize all that he had when I might wake up the next morning, stone cold sober, and freaking out because Randy was naked in my bed.
~@~
Of course, it didn't happen that way at all.
I woke up and, yeah, I was in shock for minute because he was there, curled up on his side, fully dressed and one hand clenching the front of my t-shirt, as though afraid that I was going to disappear. Probably afraid that he'd wake up and I'd have run away. And I might have if he hadn't been awake, too.
"Hey."
I actually felt myself blush as the prior night rushed over me in a cascade of humiliation. The phone call, the freak out, the tears. God. I'd fucking cried. Shit.
"Hey." My voice sounded like shit, too. So, really, it was just shit all around.
Randy smiled. Well, maybe not so shitty. Randy was gorgeous in the morning with sleep heavy eyes and messy hair. He stretched and sat up, looking around the room.
"I need to make a phone call. I'm sure David's really worried right about now."
"Yeah. Um, here." I reached to the phone beside the bed and handed it over. "I'm going to get in the shower."
Randy frowned a little but took the phone and just said, "Okay."
I didn't want to hear him talking to his boyfriend, because, really this was the worst thing that could have come of last night. Worse even than Randy not wanting to be friends any more. Ending up alone, anyway, after risking so much. So what if I'd been drunk when I risked it. Sometimes people need liquid courage to take that leap of faith. But, Jesus, wasn't there supposed to be something there to catch me?
I'd thought so last night when Randy arrived, but now--
"Gale?" Randy was just outside the door. "I'm coming in."
"Okay." Hell, it's not like he hadn't seen it all before. Many times. Of course that was years ago and I was much younger then--"Uh, wait."
Randy opened the shower door and said, "What?"
"Never mind."
"I've seen it all before, you know."
"I know." I lathered and poured shampoo into my hand while Randy watched. I was usually more talkative than this with him, more goofy, but how could I make jokes right now? Maybe later. Maybe sometime in the future this would all seem very funny. We'd be at a Queer As Folk reunion party and he'd laugh and say, "Remember that time you called me in the middle of the night, drunk off your ass, to profess your undying love for me?" And I'd laugh, too, and all the others would chuckle and toast my stupidity.
I could see it all. But right now, it wasn't funny.
"So, are you freaking out?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think so."
"Because it kind of looks like a freak out from where I'm standing."
"Maybe. I don't know."
Randy pulled his t-shirt off and stripped out of his pants, pulling off his socks before stepping into the shower with me.
Hard. Now. Instantly.
God, that was embarrassing. Randy lifted a brow and said, "Well, that's different. But I guess there aren't four people standing around us with cameras."
At that moment, I wasn't sure that would have mattered anyway. "Yeah." I turned my back on him and tried to finish my shower.
"Is this making you uncomfortable?" Randy's voice was gravelly again, like it had been last night when we'd made out and nearly gotten off by humping against one another.
"Yes. I'm hard as a motherfucker and I know you don't plan to do anything about it, so, yeah, I'm a little uncomfortable."
Oh, good. The joking was back online. It appeared that I was going to be okay.
Randy chuckled. "Join the crowd."
A glance over my shoulder showed that he was hard, too. Fuck. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Instinct kicked in--
Wet skin rushed beneath under my hands as I pushed him against the shower wall. He looked a little shocked, but he didn't stop me and when we kissed, it just happened. There was no way to stop it because there had always been something between us, call it chemistry, call it destiny, call it whatever you want. And, no, there was no liquor to blame for that obviously mushy line of thinking.
But how can I be held responsible for my thoughts when my brain had turned to mush. Randy took over somewhere mid-kiss; his dominant side that had always intrigued me, the intensity that peered out from his eyes was now focused on my body and, God, this wasn't going to last long at all. His fist, slick with soap, jerked my cock and I clung to him as I came. He's stronger than he looks and he helped me keep my feet when my knees gave out.
Ten years. Fuck. Too long.
I gripped his cock and his hand covered mine, guiding me to the rhythm that he liked and when he arched his neck back with pleasure I sucked a red mark into the tender curve.
"Oh, fuck!" He trembled in my arms and I felt the slight swell of his cock before it pulsed between us.
It ended with more kissing and a nearly silent washing of one another, Randy soaping my back and me shampooing his hair. Comfortable, for some strange reason. Maybe it was because I wasn't a total guy on guy virgin, like I said, I identified as 'straight-ish', or maybe it was just that it was Randy and I'd always, always been comfortable being naked with him, almost from the beginning.
~@~
It was over a quiet breakfast that I finally asked, "What did you tell your boyfriend?"
Randy shrugged and didn't meet my eyes. "Just told him that I needed to be with you right now." He took another bite of cereal and said around a mouthful. "He's smart, though. He's guessed what happened. Knowing David, he's probably packing right now. He's a princess like that."
I nodded and said, "I was thinking last night, when I was really drunk that Justin was the princess to Brian's prince."
Randy laughed and said, "Justin takes offense to that."
"I thought he might."
"So, I'm expecting to go home to a deserted house and I'm betting that my evening will be spent fielding phone calls from my now ex-boyfriend. What are your plans?"
I didn't know. "Well, I was thinking that maybe, later, after you've gone home, I could call you up, really drunk and tell you that I love you."
Randy put his spoon down and looked at me. "And do you?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes." He looked me in the eye as he said it.
I took a deep breath and told my pounding heart to go to hell. "Then I do. I always have. I think I always will."
"Romantic." Randy smiled almost shyly and then shrugged it off. "So, maybe tonight you could skip the phone call and the drunk part. Maybe you could just come over and tell me in person that you love me."
"I don't know. Maybe you should go home, get really drunk and call me to tell me that you love me."
Randy smiled brilliantly. "I do. I love you."
"Oh. Well, okay then." I took another bite of my eggs. "You know what sucks?"
"What?"
"Figuring out ten years too late that you were in love with your co-star." I frowned. "Ten years. It's a long time to be in denial."
Randy stood up and walked around the table, knelt down by my side and whispered as he pulled me in for a kiss, "I don't know. It seems like maybe it was just in time."
The End
The sequel: Head Trip