Fic: Open Secret (RPS, George/Eric, PG)
Today has been a tragi-comedy of errors and frankly, it's about time to put it out of its misery.
The Sky High fic I mentioned earlier is turning out to be monstrous and without an end in sight (not that I've written much of it yet or anything). Not that that's necessarily bad for anyone who doesn't have to write it. However. I promised myself I would post some fic today, and as I am all about the instant gratification, I bailed on Will and Warren and wrote a quick one-off that I've had rattling around in my head for awhile. It's my first foray into this pairing, so be gentle. Or be brutal, as you see fit. Whichever, I'm going to bed.
Title: Open Secret
Fandom: CSI RPS
Pairing: George Eads/Eric Szmanda
Rating: PG
Summary: Somebody had to do something. Of course they all expected it to be Eric.
A/N: I have this theory about George and Eric's on-again, off-again relationship. Hopefully it's easy enough to follow. The plot is inspired by a quote I read somewhere where George claims to have grown his mustache because he was trying to quit smoking and he was constantly in a 'don't fuck with me' mood. I'm paraphrasing, of course.
George was a tactile guy. Eric knew that; everyone knew that, at least if they'd ever been in George's presence for more than a few minutes. He was the kind of guy who patted your shoulder in greeting or tapped the back of your hand to get your attention, who held your hand a little longer than most people when you met him for the first time. He just…liked to touch.
Nobody minded, because George was the friendliest guy on the set. He made everybody feel welcome with his warm handshakes and his warmer smiles and the way he helped the guest stars through their scenes. Even the press talked about what a nice guy he was, and Eric had teased him about the 'aw, shucks' image more times than he could count.
And George laughed it off every time, because he really was a nice guy and he didn't mind that people knew it. He wasn't as squeaky clean as the press made him out to be - Eric, of all people, knew that - but he genuinely was one of the good guys. It would be kind of weird if it wasn't so fucking cute.
So it was weird to walk through the set and watch the entire crew giving George the widest berth they could manage. Anybody that did accidentally cross his path looked down and walked a little faster, and even George's assistant was avoiding him as much as possible without actually getting fired. Or maybe she was avoiding him so he wouldn't have a chance to fire her, Eric wasn't sure. What he did know was that George was making everybody on set miserable, and somebody had to do something.
He knew everybody was expecting him to do it. He knew why they were expecting him to do it, and yeah, maybe they had a point. But George wasn't being any nicer to him these days than he was to anybody else, and it wasn't like Eric was looking forward to taking a hit for the entire show. So he'd been avoiding it, ignoring it like everybody else and hoping George would snap out of it. Except it had been weeks, and when he heard George snap at yet another extra for being off his mark, he knew it was time.
"Hey," he said when the director called 'cut', stepping in front of George as he passed by on the way to wherever he went now that he wasn't taking smoke breaks between every scene.
"What?" George snarled at him, but he stopped long enough to glance at Eric, and it was now or never.
"You've gotta chill out, man," Eric answered, reaching out as he spoke and resting a hand on George's forearm. "You're making everybody crazy."
Part of him expected George to tell him to go to hell. He'd been in a mood ever since he quit smoking, after all, and it wasn't like a few words from Eric was going to snap him out of it. But George's skin was warm under his fingers, and when Eric stroked his skin George sighed and leaned a little closer.
"I know," he said, glancing over his shoulder like he was expecting the cast and crew to be watching.
Eric wouldn't be surprised if they were, and he followed George's gaze to make sure no one was looking before he gripped George's arm and dragged him further into the shadows at the edge of the room.
"So knock it off," Eric said, fingers still pressed against George's skin and voice low.
Another sigh, heavier this time and Eric felt George's breath against his cheek. And he'd never minded when George smoked, but he smelled a lot better now that he didn't. "Easier said than done, man. You don't know what it's like. I can't stop thinking about it."
"Sure you can. Just think about something else." Eric leaned a little closer, fingers sliding further up George's arm until they reached the sleeve of his t-shirt. And he knew this was a bad idea - especially while they were on set - but it felt right, and so far George wasn't complaining. In fact, he was leaning even closer, reaching out with his other hand to grip Eric's hip and pull him forward.
"I thought we weren't doing this until the suits stopped breathing down our necks."
"That was your idea," Eric said, regretting it the second the words were out of his mouth, but if George heard him he didn't react. Didn't flinch away or scowl or tell Eric to go to hell, and that was definitely a good sign. His hand slid up Eric's back, warm through the fabric of his shirt and solid and God, he'd missed this. He tried not to, pretended even to himself that he didn't really care. He had his music and his friends and his career and that should have been enough, but when George leaned in close and brushed their lips together he remembered all the reasons why it wasn't.
Eric's hand left George's arm to slide into his hair, gripping tight and pulling him impossibly closer and if they didn't stop right now someone was going to catch them.
When George was kissing him he wasn't sure he cared.
Way too soon George pulled back, chest rising and falling heavily and Eric couldn't resist pressing a hand to it. "Better?"
"Yeah," George answered, smiling his first real smile in what felt like forever and Eric didn't even try to stop himself from grinning back. "It's even worse at night, though."
"Guess I better come over for some more distraction tonight, then," Eric said, and when George laughed he couldn't resist leaning in to press another kiss against his mouth. "On one condition."
"What?" George asked, tensing under Eric's fingers and he almost wished he hadn't said anything. It was important, though, and there was no way he was taking it back.
"You've gotta lose the 'stache, man. You look like an extra from Starsky and Hutch."
He expected George to be mad, or at least defensive. He'd taken a lot of ribbing for his mustache over the past few weeks, at least until he started growling at anybody who looked at him. So he was surprised when George laughed and shook his head, letting go of Eric to run a hand through too-long hair.
"Done." George leaned in for one last kiss before he backed away from Eric, still grinning as he headed back to the set for the next scene.
The Sky High fic I mentioned earlier is turning out to be monstrous and without an end in sight (not that I've written much of it yet or anything). Not that that's necessarily bad for anyone who doesn't have to write it. However. I promised myself I would post some fic today, and as I am all about the instant gratification, I bailed on Will and Warren and wrote a quick one-off that I've had rattling around in my head for awhile. It's my first foray into this pairing, so be gentle. Or be brutal, as you see fit. Whichever, I'm going to bed.
Title: Open Secret
Fandom: CSI RPS
Pairing: George Eads/Eric Szmanda
Rating: PG
Summary: Somebody had to do something. Of course they all expected it to be Eric.
A/N: I have this theory about George and Eric's on-again, off-again relationship. Hopefully it's easy enough to follow. The plot is inspired by a quote I read somewhere where George claims to have grown his mustache because he was trying to quit smoking and he was constantly in a 'don't fuck with me' mood. I'm paraphrasing, of course.
George was a tactile guy. Eric knew that; everyone knew that, at least if they'd ever been in George's presence for more than a few minutes. He was the kind of guy who patted your shoulder in greeting or tapped the back of your hand to get your attention, who held your hand a little longer than most people when you met him for the first time. He just…liked to touch.
Nobody minded, because George was the friendliest guy on the set. He made everybody feel welcome with his warm handshakes and his warmer smiles and the way he helped the guest stars through their scenes. Even the press talked about what a nice guy he was, and Eric had teased him about the 'aw, shucks' image more times than he could count.
And George laughed it off every time, because he really was a nice guy and he didn't mind that people knew it. He wasn't as squeaky clean as the press made him out to be - Eric, of all people, knew that - but he genuinely was one of the good guys. It would be kind of weird if it wasn't so fucking cute.
So it was weird to walk through the set and watch the entire crew giving George the widest berth they could manage. Anybody that did accidentally cross his path looked down and walked a little faster, and even George's assistant was avoiding him as much as possible without actually getting fired. Or maybe she was avoiding him so he wouldn't have a chance to fire her, Eric wasn't sure. What he did know was that George was making everybody on set miserable, and somebody had to do something.
He knew everybody was expecting him to do it. He knew why they were expecting him to do it, and yeah, maybe they had a point. But George wasn't being any nicer to him these days than he was to anybody else, and it wasn't like Eric was looking forward to taking a hit for the entire show. So he'd been avoiding it, ignoring it like everybody else and hoping George would snap out of it. Except it had been weeks, and when he heard George snap at yet another extra for being off his mark, he knew it was time.
"Hey," he said when the director called 'cut', stepping in front of George as he passed by on the way to wherever he went now that he wasn't taking smoke breaks between every scene.
"What?" George snarled at him, but he stopped long enough to glance at Eric, and it was now or never.
"You've gotta chill out, man," Eric answered, reaching out as he spoke and resting a hand on George's forearm. "You're making everybody crazy."
Part of him expected George to tell him to go to hell. He'd been in a mood ever since he quit smoking, after all, and it wasn't like a few words from Eric was going to snap him out of it. But George's skin was warm under his fingers, and when Eric stroked his skin George sighed and leaned a little closer.
"I know," he said, glancing over his shoulder like he was expecting the cast and crew to be watching.
Eric wouldn't be surprised if they were, and he followed George's gaze to make sure no one was looking before he gripped George's arm and dragged him further into the shadows at the edge of the room.
"So knock it off," Eric said, fingers still pressed against George's skin and voice low.
Another sigh, heavier this time and Eric felt George's breath against his cheek. And he'd never minded when George smoked, but he smelled a lot better now that he didn't. "Easier said than done, man. You don't know what it's like. I can't stop thinking about it."
"Sure you can. Just think about something else." Eric leaned a little closer, fingers sliding further up George's arm until they reached the sleeve of his t-shirt. And he knew this was a bad idea - especially while they were on set - but it felt right, and so far George wasn't complaining. In fact, he was leaning even closer, reaching out with his other hand to grip Eric's hip and pull him forward.
"I thought we weren't doing this until the suits stopped breathing down our necks."
"That was your idea," Eric said, regretting it the second the words were out of his mouth, but if George heard him he didn't react. Didn't flinch away or scowl or tell Eric to go to hell, and that was definitely a good sign. His hand slid up Eric's back, warm through the fabric of his shirt and solid and God, he'd missed this. He tried not to, pretended even to himself that he didn't really care. He had his music and his friends and his career and that should have been enough, but when George leaned in close and brushed their lips together he remembered all the reasons why it wasn't.
Eric's hand left George's arm to slide into his hair, gripping tight and pulling him impossibly closer and if they didn't stop right now someone was going to catch them.
When George was kissing him he wasn't sure he cared.
Way too soon George pulled back, chest rising and falling heavily and Eric couldn't resist pressing a hand to it. "Better?"
"Yeah," George answered, smiling his first real smile in what felt like forever and Eric didn't even try to stop himself from grinning back. "It's even worse at night, though."
"Guess I better come over for some more distraction tonight, then," Eric said, and when George laughed he couldn't resist leaning in to press another kiss against his mouth. "On one condition."
"What?" George asked, tensing under Eric's fingers and he almost wished he hadn't said anything. It was important, though, and there was no way he was taking it back.
"You've gotta lose the 'stache, man. You look like an extra from Starsky and Hutch."
He expected George to be mad, or at least defensive. He'd taken a lot of ribbing for his mustache over the past few weeks, at least until he started growling at anybody who looked at him. So he was surprised when George laughed and shook his head, letting go of Eric to run a hand through too-long hair.
"Done." George leaned in for one last kiss before he backed away from Eric, still grinning as he headed back to the set for the next scene.