Alternate update
Warning: QaF RPS AU
Pairing: G+R
Disclaimer: QaF belongs to CowLip. Gale and Randy belong to each other, er, themselves. This is not real.
Gale hated Brian’s shower. Sure it was roomy and had two showerheads and a niche-thing specifically meant for holding condom packets, but it had piss-poor water pressure. It never really mattered before because it wasn’t like he used it to _wash_ himself or anything, but now that he did, it really sucked. He loved getting his muscles massaged by a strong shower, and that just wasn’t happening here.
He bent, rubbing soap over his calves and feet, and wondered what Randy was doing. Gale guessed Randy was trying to figure out how this shit happened-maybe making a few calls to the studio or his friends in New York, but he wasn’t really sure. Randy was unpredictable and moody and Gale had learned fairly early that trying to put a label on him was pretty useless. The guy could swing from control freak to couldn’t-care-less and did so a lot and without warning. Gale supposed he could have learned to read Randy better but although he’d worked really closely with the guy for four years now and they were friends, they never really hung out much after-hours.
The truth was Gale had always been just a little bit intimidated by the talented younger actor.
Gale moved to wash his genitals and hoped they would continue to work well together even with all this weird crap. Especially since, Gale thought as he fingered a thin scar on his scrotum, it seemed that he only had one ball.
Gale sighed. “Shit.”
When Gale stepped out of the bedroom wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jogging pants, he found Randy sitting in front of Brian’s Mac, head tilted back, and poking an eye. Gale winced and waited until Randy was done and was blinking rapidly before announcing his discovery.
“Oh,” Randy grimaced, looking up at Gale with sympathetic eyes. “Well, it turns out I have twenty-twenty vision and a hole in my tit. Also, according to Google no standard web pages were found for Randy Harrison or Gale Harold.”
The two stared mutely at each other while outside an ambulance wailed past.
“So, I guess this means…”
“Yeah.”
Gale bit back the urge to sigh again and walked over to the kitchen, where that bottle of Beam was looking really, really good right now. “I’m going to mourn the loss of my ball now, hope you don’t mind.”
“That’s okay,” Randy said, getting up. “I’ll join you.”
--
“…and that’s the story behind my tattoo-or my former-tattoo.” Gale took another swing of Beam before handing the almost empty bottle to the other guy lolling around on the cushion. “This sucks. I liked that tattoo. What about yours?”
“College.” Randy shrugged and finished off the liquor.
“Make-up hated that thing.” Gale grinned.
Randy snickered.
“This is fun,” Gale said, poking Randy where his tattoo used to be. “Wonder why we never did this before.”
Randy eyeballed the empty bottle. “No time?”
“Weekends.”
“Too tired?”
Gale hummed.
“Maybe… we just weren’t interested in getting to know each other, you know, personally.”
Gale turned, stared at Randy’s glassy blue eyes, and leaned over for a quick peck. Randy smiled.
“We have to go and figure things out soon,” he said sadly.
“Later,” Gale said and opened his arms. Randy scooted over and tucked himself under Gale’s chin. The two got comfortable. “What does it feel like to have a hole in your tit?”
“I dunno,” Randy yawned. “What does it feel like to have one ball?”
Gale buried his nose in soft blond hair and tried not to think that this was how Randy would smell like if they had real sex. “You know, I don’t think this is what Stanislavski had in mind.”