Phobosgirl
Try to go with the flow on this one, I wrote it by trying to capture the essence
of Gale's interview style.
Feedback: phobosgirl@hotmail.com
Date: 11/30/05
Rating: R for language
Authors notes: This is a different style for me and as you’ll notice, the scarcity
of punctuation is intentional. This is, as usual, un-beta’d cos I wouldn’t know
a beta if one walked in my front door. Feedback is more than welcome and can
be sent to phobosgirl@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: This is only for fun. None of this is real nor should any implication
be made based on this manuscript that I have any insider info on either of these
two actors.
Warnings: Gale/Randy RPS
POV: Gale
Yeah, so the cool weather rolled into town just like it did each fall and for
the previous four years that had always signaled one thing to Gale- it was time
to get back to his bread and butter, cos the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants work
of one Indy film after another every summer was fun and all, but it didn’t pay
the bills for shit and oh by the way, what was he going to do about that
when Queer As Folk wrapped?
But this year, the fifth year, the final year, the cold weather carried a different
signal, a signal that caused a pain in his chest and a lump in his throat, so
Gale didn’t think too hard on that one cos the reason for the pain and the lump
(Him) didn’t make a whole lot of sense and while he may babble like a
fool in the press, that was only nerves, man, he fucking hated doing interviews,
but he was no fool and he liked when things made sense, so something important
(Him) couldn’t have been going on when the cool weather didn’t signal
bread-and-butter time, and instead signaled Randy time.
Randy was in the city somewhere right now with someone (Simon) walking
around and showing someone (Simon) the sights and probably buying groceries
to make dinners with someone (Simon) and maybe he was even looking for
a place that was bigger than his usual Toronto apartment because maybe he had
someone (Simon) with him this year who’d need space to spread out but
since Randy was probably with someone (Simonsimonsimonfuck) Gale
would play it cool and wait to see him on the set cos after all, it wasn’t like
he wanted Randy or anything, ‘course not, he just liked to hang out with him
and see movies with him and listen to him talk and laugh and breath and stuff,
no big deal.
So Gale worked and he fucking loved his job so he did it really well and if
Randy wasn’t on the set for the first few weeks, well, that was to be expected,
cos Justin was supposed to be in Hollywood filming the Rage thing and of course
Gale didn’t think about missing him, he was too busy doing his job really well
and goofing off with Hal between takes and trying to avoid the fans who would
scream to them from behind the police barriers every time they jumped out of
the van at location shoots and no way was he wondering what Randy was doing
with someone (Simon) cos that would be unprofessional and he was always
professional and that’s what made him so fucking good at his job.
And Gale didn’t call him, didn’t act like he had his cell phone number memorized,
didn’t show any signs of needing and wanting and waiting to talk to him cos
you know, they were just buds and friends don’t cling to their friends like
desperate little school girls and there was no fucking reason to cling anyway,
cos Gale loved his friends but he didn’t expect them to notify him every time
they hit town and if he maybe loved Randy a little more than his other friends,
and he wasn’t saying he did, cos of course he didn’t, but if he did well then
that could only be expected, too, since they spent so much time together naked,
right?
Naturally, Randy didn’t call him either to say, “hey, how you doing?” or “hey,
what’s been up with you?” or “hey, why don’t you come over to my new bigger
place and fuck me into the mattress?” cos wouldn’t that be a stupid thing for
Randy to say since he was with someone (Simon) now and had no reason
to wonder if Gale might be thinking about things he wanted to do to him, warm
things, wet things, things he had no business wanting, things that made him
turn his cell phone on silent vibrate even during filming just in case Randy
decided to leave someone (Simon), telepathically read Gale’s mind, ignore
all that denial crap clogging things up in there, all that crap about not really
wanting to fuck Randy into the mattress and not really wanting to kiss him breathless
cos how could he want that when he was straight and Randy was gay and they were
friends, ignore all that stupid shit in his mind after reading it telepathically
and just, like, give him a call.
And then one day, a week before he was due back to work, Randy did call and
he didn’t ask Gale how he was doing, or what was up or if he wanted to come
over and fuck him into the mattress and instead he asked Gale something that
Gale made him repeat cos he wasn’t sure he’d heard it right- he asked him to
go to (romantic) Paris with him and Gale did his best to stammer and
stutter while he thought about it and really, he didn’t have to actually try
to stammer or stutter, that came pretty naturally when he was caught so far
off guard and made to think about things like (romantic) Paris with Randy
for a whole long weekend, but by the time the stammering and stuttering had
stopped, he’d asked why Randy wasn’t taking (fucking) Simon and Randy
had said, “Simon who?” real disgusted like and Gale didn’t have to ask to know
that (fucking) Simon was history and that thrilled and scared him shitless
both at the same time but before he knew it, he said no to (romantic)
Paris just as if he didn’t really want to be sitting next to Randy for ten hours
on a plane or seeing (romantic) Paris with him for three solid days and
when he hung up the phone he went back to work and fucked up his lines for the
next six hours until the director sent him home with an admonishment to get
his head back in the game by tomorrow morning.
So Gale spent a week getting his head back in the game while Randy flew off
alone to (romantic) Paris and when Randy got back and came in to work
a few days later he was filled with stories about art and food and wine and
Gale ached inside and wasn’t sure why except that all he could see in his mind’s
eye was him standing by Randy’s side sharing all the great art, food and wine
and the two of them laughing and (kissing) seeing the sights and (holding
hands) using the French they’d both learned after five years in Toronto
and (making love 'till dawn) walking down some Rue ‘D Something talking
and talking and talking like the old friends they were and Gale was pretty sure
that his head was in the game now but he didn’t know exactly what game anymore
and it made his mouth dry with fear and need and one day he’d have to say something
to Randy about it cos otherwise it was gonna come out during a drinking binge
or a drugged haze and that could really be bad, that could be fucking horrible,
that could possibly destroy everything.
And really, when he thought about it, which was pretty much all of the fucking
time now, he couldn’t figure out why this year was so different from all the
other years when he hadn’t been watching Randy out of the corner of his eye
all the time or wondering what he was doing every weekend or wishing Randy would
just walk up to him and put his tongue down his throat but he thought maybe
it might have something to do with the fact that every other year after the
season wrapped he always knew he’d see Randy again and this year he had no such
guarantee and that was starting to suck so badly that Gale hurt nearly all the
time now except when he was doing a scene with Randy or eating lunch with him
or watching him laugh with Michelle.
Then Gale knew a crisis point was being reached, critical mass, baby, and he
was quietly freaking out pretty much 24/7 so he told Randy that he needed to
talk to him privately and invited him to come over to the house that weekend
for a few beers and when Randy said “ok,” Gale almost backed out right then
and there and told him to forget it but he couldn’t cos really, he had to admit
to himself now that he was in love down to his fucking toes and he had to get
it out, had to tell the truth once and for all or he would cry like a
baby or keel over from a stroke or some other embarrassing thing like that.
And the night he asked Randy to come over and Randy said yes, Gale went home
alone to his house and slept heavily until he woke sometime before dawn from
a dream that left him panting and sweating and clutching the sheets in his fists
and he was hard, so fucking hard, absolutely goddamned rigid and he knew whose
fault that was, he remembered the dream in dizzying, vivid detail and holding
those images in his mind he let his hand wander to his dick, his fucking absolutely
rigidly hard dick and it only took a couple of quick pulls before he was writhing
and gasping and saying a name in a voice he’d never heard come out of his own
throat before and then he knew it was the Right Thing, that telling Randy was
the Right Thing, even if it did ruin everything because he couldn’t fucking
go on like this, his life had become something unrecognizable and a thing filled
only with choking pain and unrequited want.
So Gale waited for the week to end so he could spill his guts and hear Randy’s
response, and it took so fucking long, like when you’re seven years old and
waiting for Christmas morning so you can wake your parents and go downstairs
to see what Santa brought and Gale yearned for Santa to grant him this one last
wish, this one last Christmas miracle even though Christmas was months away
and he asked, Dear Santa, all I want for Christmas and the rest of my life is
a man, this man, this one smart funny quirky beautiful sexy breath-taking man
and I’ll be a good boy for the whole rest of the year, Santa, I promise, for
the whole rest of my life, please enjoy the cookies, thank you, your friend,
Gale.
And finally Saturday night arrived and with it, a smart funny quirky beautiful
sexy breath-taking man carrying a six-pack, half of which Gale demolished before
he could even say more than “Hi, come in,” (I love you forever) and then
he started talking and he paced while he talked and he gestured dramatically
and he couldn’t look at Randy, even though he knew Randy was staring at him
like he was a bug under glass and he could imagine the shock that must have
been on Randy’s face when he said all the words he needed to say, when he choked
them out haltingly, and it felt like he talked for hours when it was probably
only thirty minutes or so and when he was done and words like love and
need and always and please had been said, he fell silent
and still and stood by the window, waiting, God, just waiting and listening
to Randy’s rapid breathing and praying like he hadn’t done since he was a child,
Please Santa, I pray you’ll give me this one last gift and if you do I won’t
ever ask for anything else, I promise, your friend, Gale.
Then there was movement behind him and Randy was standing, he was walking, and
Gale didn’t know if he was walking to the door, walking out of Gale’s life,
but then there was breathing behind him, hands on his waist, gently turning
him, nudging him around and when he turned and looked at Randy, it was all there,
like a mirror of his own face and he thinks he might have cried then, just a
little, but he can’t be sure because suddenly there were lips and mummers and
teeth and fingers and grasping and his hair was soft, so fucking soft and Gale
couldn’t stop touching it and they were tumbling to the floor and there was
Randy, God, there was Randy and he was everywhere and his taste and his smell
and his smiles and laughter and kisses and then his tongue, ohmygod his tongue,
it was everywhere, too and Gale arched and moaned and said his name again and
again in that voice he’d never heard come from his own throat before but knew
he would become accustomed to and there was coming, Godgodgod, was there coming,
his and Randy’s and then his again and it was frantic and filled with too many
years of waiting and the culmination of love denied, but no longer.
Then the peace surprised him, shocked him because he’d never realized how conflicted
he’d really been, month after month, year after year and the peace in him, now,
the harmony of spirit and heart, the wash of comfort across his life, left him
sagging into the arms, the curved body, the tangled legs and tangled fingers
of his old friend, his new lover, his Randy- his, finally and now he could just.
Stop. Thinking.
And start loving.