Protect Me From What I Want
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It starts with Disney.
Word Count: 5,565
A/N: For sarrni_korppi because I was supposed to finish this like six months ago. I fudged the timelines a little too.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen.
;
i.
It doesn’t start with a drunken fuck or even a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend set-up. It starts with Disney, and Chris just wants to crawl under a rock and die because ohmygod he can’t stand the screaming. He shuffles quickly after Anne, plastering a huge happy grin on his face while waving to the nine-year-old girls screeching “Lord Nicholas!”
He tries to blend in with the people who are just kind of here, crowded in the deemed “lesser-known” corner of the room. It’s not hard, really. In fact, he looks just like that one guy from that five seconds of that one episode on that one show. (What channel was that thing on again? NBC. Right, right.) He takes a sip of water.
It turns out most of these people were either a. extras on Princess that he’d never had the chance to meet, or b. guest stars/extras-who-had-two-lines on one Disney show or another.
“Hi,” an extra who had two lines on one Disney show or another says brightly with the friendliness of too much fairies and teeny-boppers. “I’m Zach.”
Chris sighs. He had tried to avoid this premiere as he would the plague, but Disney rules the world so - “Hi. I’m not drunk,” he answers.
The other man quirks his lips into a small smile. “Well, hate to break it to you, buddy, but neither am I.”
Chris smiles charmingly, but he just wants this guy to go away so he can sulk alone and unnoticed.
“You’re not drunk yet.”
“Yet,” this Zach person acquiesces. “And since I am yet to be inebriated, can I get your name?”
“No.”
“C’mon man,” Zach laughs. “I even threw in ‘inebriated.’”
Chris can’t stop the twitch of his lips so he relents. “Okay, fine, I’m Chris.”
Zach grins. “I know. My Lord,” he mock-salutes.
That is how it starts.
ii.
Zach can be charming, Chris will admit that. He’s already half-naked, and it’s only their second meeting.
“Jesus Christ,” Zach groans, ridding himself of his polyester shirt. “What the fuck is wrong with your air conditioner?”
“I don’t know,” Chris flails, hitting the top of the machine with a half-hearted thwack. It merely grumbles and remains loud and more infuriatingly, hot. “This is all your fucking fault,” he said, pointing accusingly at Zach.
“Thanks a fucking lot.”
“Can’t we go to your fucking house?”
“I don’t fucking have cable.”
“Why the fuck are we friends again?”
“Because I, for one, can cook.”
“What-fucking-ever.”
;;
“Have you ever wanted to do theatre?”
“I started as a theatre actor, y’know,” Chris answers, tapping his pen against his newspaper.
“Do you want to go back to it?”
“I don’t know. I liked it, so yeah, maybe. Why?”
“Be over in fifteen minutes?”
“Door’s unlocked.”
“Be right there.”
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
“Seven-letter word for ‘to suffocate’ or ‘to stifle’?”
“Scomfish?”
“That’s eight letters, genius.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“’Kay, bye.”
“Bye.”
Chris stares at his paper, mulling over his choices. Carefully, he writes in ‘smother’.
Ten minutes later, Zach opens the door to his apartment, carrying a stack of papers. “Okay,” he says, sitting down next to Chris on the small sofa. “I like it, but I think you’re better for it.” With that, he drops the papers - er, script - on Chris’ lap, successively concealing the crossword.
“Asshole, I was almost done with that!”
“This is more important,” Zach retorts, waving his hand dismissively. “By the way, the word is-”
“’Smother’, I know,” Chris says, dropping his pen bitterly. He glances at the title of the play. “’Farragut North’?”
Zach shrugs. “You don’t have to do it.”
Chris skims through the first few pages. “Eh, when’s the audition?”
“I don’t know, a year from now maybe?”
“A year?”
“Possibly two?”
“Two years?”
Zach shrugs again. “It’s kind of a rough draft.”
“A rough draft?”
“It’s kind of not finished yet.”
“It’s not finished? Christ, Zach, what did you do? Sleep with the playwright?”
“Of course not,” Zach answers dryly. “My brother did.”
iii.
They kind of fall out of touch because Chris has that new movie, and Zach has his projects and whatnot. Which sucks. Especially when the only other person who currently shares your insane sleeping pattern is Lindsay Lohan. Not that Chris doesn’t like Lindsay. She’s nice enough. You know.
;;
There’s no big press tour for the movie, and for that, Chris is thankful. He gets a few double-takes at Intelligentsia now, but Kelly, the barista, still serves his coffee the same way, just with an added suppressed smirk.
He presses his sunglasses further up his nose and nods a thank-you.
“What kind of obnoxious English Lit major wears sunglasses when they’re inside?” someone comments loudly as he exits the coffee shop.
He turns. “What kind of obnoxious Drama student wears stripes after Labor Day?”
Zach tosses his head back in a miffed sort of way. “I like this shirt,” he declares.
“Well, I don’t.”
Zach rolls his eyes. “Well, I don’t like your glasses,” is his pithy retort.
“Fair enough.”
Zach smiles. “See you later?” he asks uncertainly.
“For realsies, baby,” he grins, pulling his glasses down just enough to wink at Zach. Straightening up, he adds in a slightly more dignified tone, “Text me or something. It’s been forever since I’ve had a good grilled cheese.”
“For realsies,” Zach promises.
;;
iv.
For the record, he didn’t get into Heroes because Zach pimped it out to him. He gets into Heroes because his sister pimps it out to him. (OMG, did you see that new show last night? What show? That Heroes show. On NBC. No. Well, you should watch it. Okay?) So he watches it on Veoh and then forgets about it. That is, until the next week when his sister calls to remind him that a show called Heroes exists and is playing right now, and he should watch it. So he does. He likes seeing Milo Ventimiglia with a Messiah complex.
“So did you watch it?”
Chris cradles his phone between his ear and shoulder as he turns the page on his book. Katie Bell was still in St. Mungo’s Hospital… “Good morning to you, too.”
“Morning. Did you watch it?”
“Watch what?”
“Heroes,” his sister sighs, so loudly and obviously that Chris is surprised that he can’t physically see the exasperation.
“Yes, Mother, I did watch it. I cleaned the house, too. Even took out the trash.”
“And?”
“And what?” If they lost…well, Harry had endured worse mutterings…
“And what did you think?”
Chris sighs. “I think Milo is very much your type. Perfect ass.”
“Shove it, dickhead.”
“Ooh, very classy.” But she’d already hung up.
He shrugs and drops the phone somewhere over by his feet. She’ll probably call back tonight.
;;
“HOLY SHIT, I KNOW THAT GUY.”
“Yes, genius, he’s only the guy who’s been killing everyone.”
Chris rolls his eyes and points at his TV screen, even though he’s well aware his sister can’t see. “No, I mean, I know that guy.”
“Really?” Katherine asks, a tone of interest replacing her usual snark. “Is he single?”
“Aren’t you married?”
“Aren’t you not?”
“Wow, that hurts, Kat. That really does. You know, I thought we had something special going on.”
“Fuck you, baby bro,” she retorts cheerfully. “So is he single?”
Chris sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe. I never asked.”
“You’re useless,” she scoffs and hangs up.
He frowns for a moment before he calls Zach.
“Hello?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Chris?”
“Yeah, hi,” he mutters. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“About what?”
“Heroes!”
A pause, then - “Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.”
“I didn’t think it was relevant.”
Chris rolls his eyes at the ceiling before taking an annoyed bite out of his apple. “I asked you the other day if you had anything new going on!”
“I didn’t,” Zach answers mildly. “We finished filming months ago.”
“You’re being difficult.”
“My apologies.”
“I’ll talk to you later, asshole.”
“Charming.”
“Good-bye.”
“Bye.”
;;
Apparently, Zach’s idea of an apology is to buy Chris coffee because he shows up an hour later, cappuccinos in hand.
“What happened to your soy-chai-non-fat-whatever?”
Zach shrugs. “I’m still in the process of acquiring a taste for it.”
“Just admit it, it’s disgusting.”
“It’s an acquired taste, Christopher.”
“You’re supposed to be trying to win my forgiveness. Don’t argue with me.”
“Sorry, it is disgusting.”
“The soy thing or-”
“The soy thing.”
v.
Chris can’t believe his luck. Of all the people his publicist could meet while running errands, she had to run into J.J. Abrams’ wife. Of all people. He makes a mental note to send Pauline the biggest, most expensive bouquet he can afford - which is to say, the nicest, least-wilted two-dozen roses he can find at Costco.
“Chris?”
Chris stands. “Yes?”
“I’m J.J., nice to meet you, come with me.”
For someone so small, Chris has to walk quickly to keep up. “Uh, sir-”
“It’s J.J., and all I want you to do is read this part -” he shoves a sheet of paper into Chris’ chest. “With our Spock. I really don’t care about your experience. I just - I need chemistry. If it doesn’t happen, I’m sorry, but y’know it’s - thanks for coming.”
Chris blinks and stares at the paper. “Um, okay.”
“Through here, and take a seat.”
Chris enters a room where several other people seated. He sits down next to a guy with too-slick hair and raspy breath.
“This is going to be big, you know,” Too-Slick informs him.
Chris nods stiffly and tries to concentrate on the words on the page.
“So you’re auditioning for Kirk?”
The voice is so familiar that all Chris can do is just stare. Zach smiles nervously.
After a moment, he simply groans and covers his face with his hands. “Forget it,” he says, sound muffled. “I learned years ago just not to ask.”
“Good,” Zach replies. “Because according to my contract, I’m not allowed to answer, lest I intend to suffer any legal litigations.”
J.J. clears his throat, eyes dancing with excitement. “Shall we begin?”
;;
It’s 1 am when Zach turns up outside, wearing a huge a grin and carrying a six-pack. “I’m not supposed to say anything,” he admits. “But check in with your agent in the morning.”
He would’ve been pleased, of course, had he not been asleep, but Zach makes him a grilled cheese so it’s all good.
vi.
Just so it’s clear, it’s not like Chris has a big gay freak-out or anything. It isn’t that he’s gay or even bisexual. He was born with eyes that can see, and they see this Zach person as a fucking 30 on scale of one to ten.
He manages to convince himself his curiousity-slash-obsession extends only as far as Sylar. Sylar is everything he isn’t - sly, cunning, manipulative. He’s supposed to be intrigued-bordering-on-psychopathic. Sylar is a cube with eight sides, and Chris has to do everything in his power to figure him out. Even if he has to moan the man’s name in the middle of his morning shower. (We will kindly go temporarily deaf when Chris moans Zach instead of Sylar.) It’s all extremely self-sacrificial really. No, really.
He holds himself together by repeating his mantra of “This is Zach; that is Sylar,” and it works pretty damn well up until Zoe has to get all flirty and charming and say, “Hi. I’m Zoe,” like they’re all in elementary school, not on the back of the movie lot.
“Hi,” Zach answers, with a sort of pained, stoic expression on his face. “My name is Zach.” Those black-rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of Zach’s nose are not helping.
Chris totally doesn’t watch Heroes reruns that night. No, honestly.
;;
Somehow, even with all the secrecy, the bodyguards, and the synchronized watches, it’s just Chris’ luck that he crashes into Zach coming out of the This-Is-Totally-Not-The-Hair-And-Make-Up trailer right after that moment. After mourning the loss of his fresh coffee, Chris gets the full impact of what’s standing in front of him.
“Duuude.”
“Don’t even-” Zach half-groans, half-wails.
“Wow.”
“Shut up.”
“No, dude, I mean - it’s just…Wooow.”
“Shut up, Chris,” and the man flees before Chris can say anything else.
Chris tries really hard not to laugh after he hears Zach’s trailer door slam. Well, you know, not loudly.
He calms down enough to call Zach (because he is a good friend and wants to show support).
“Christopher, I swear to God-”
“It doesn’t look bad!” Chris interjects. “Well, it’s not like, terrible. Wait no, I mean, it’s cute. It’s adorable. It’s-”
“Hanging up now.”
“Aw, come on, sweetheart, don’t be like that.”
“Asshole.” And the line goes dead.
Chris stares at his phone, bemused. He hits redial without thinking.
“Hair grows back, you know.”
“Fuck off.”
Chris tries again, but the call goes straight to voicemail. He chuckles to himself before texting an apology.
I always though bowl cuts were sexy. (:
He gets an answer an hour later and grins.
There are two ‘t’s in ‘thought’, Berkeley.
;;
“What is this shit?”
“I’m sorry, I thought you were trying to win my forgiveness?”
“I am, but I refuse to be subjected to this. I’m gonna throw up.”
“You can’t diss this movie.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s JJ’s movie, so you’ll have to suck it up, or he’ll fire you.”
“Dude, that’s not cool.”
“Neither was dissing my hair.”
“I said it was sexy.”
Zach pulls a face which Chris classifies as the adult version of a pout (which is really just a regular child/puppy pout, but more pathetic).
“No, seriously, man,” Chris says, winking with that All-American-Boy charm. “It’s cute.”
Zach rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude.”
Chris shrugs and settles himself comfortably against the sofa, yawning. “Mmm, s’all good.”
Zach smiles. “Yeah, it’s all good.”
vii.
It’s always Zach Sylar. Sylar with his arm pressing against Chris’ throat - Sylar with his tongue in Chris’ mouth, pulling all the oxygen away - Sylar with his fingers working Chris open. And it’s Sylar’s -
“CHRIS!”
“WHAT?!” he shouts, arms flailing wildly, narrowly missing Anton’s head.
“Christ, you sleep like a fucking rock, man,” Anton huffs. Without pausing for breath, he prattles off a list of things that J.J., Bryan, and that one person who shows up every ten days whose name is Kevin or Frank or something equally generic wanted to get done. “Didjagedallthat?”
“Mmphf.”
“See you later. And don’t go back to sleep!” he adds as he’s halfway out the door.
After he’s gone, Chris groans, rolls over, and buries his head under the covers.
;;
"Christopher."
It's not that this is the first time that Zach's called him something other than Chris (there's fucker, you, and Chris' current favorite sanctimonious little shit), but it's the first time he's heard Zach speak with such contempt. He quickly runs through a check list in his head of Things I Possibly Could've Done, and comes up with zilch.
"What?" he asks, curiously.
"What is this?" Zach says, rather contemptuously as he shoves a large black book in Chris’ face.
Chris takes a step back, blinks, and peers at the font.
"It's, uh, Twilight."
Zach scoffs. "Clearly. What is it, Chris? Stoker no longer up to your standards?"
Chris glares at him. "Just because I have a degree does not mean I can go around reading critically acclaimed works all the fucking time. That's obnoxious."
"Christopher, I swear to God, I am not talking to you until you throw this out."
"Aw, come on, Zach," Chris laughs. "Ultimatums aren't sexy."
Still, it's been a while, and Zach hasn't seen the book anywhere. At least, not until one day when he sleeps over at Chris' after a late-night Anton Yelchin moviefest. (They're trying to watch every movie that any member of the cast's been in. So far, they've done Chris, Zoe, Bruce, and half of J.J.’s repetoire.)
"Christopher, what is this?"
Chris frowns and looks. "A book, Zachary. Do you need to borrow my glasses?"
"You should be comedian," Zach answers dryly. "I thought you got rid of it."
Chris snorts. "Well, I didn't. How did you find it anyway?"
"My head hurt. Turns out it's because this was under my pillow, murdering my brain cells."
"We could do stand-up together."
"Seriously though, I was looking for my phone. I thought it might’ve fallen under the bed so I checked and found-" he waves the book for a moment “-this.”
"I put it in the drawer."
“Chris, I’m holding this shit in my hand. It was under the bed.”
“I meant your phone, asshole.”
"Oh…thanks."
"Sure thing."
Zach makes sure to place the book in the exact place under the mattress that he found it in so when Chris picks up the book next, there's writing on the first page. They break up in the second one.
;;
He only has one scene today so he wanders the set aimlessly. There’s nothing fun to do, really. He decides to hide out in Zach’s trailer until the other actor finishes up.
“Hey, Chris!”
“What’s up, wunderkind?” he asks, pausing at the front of Zach’s door.
“Tell Zach I want my books back.”
Chris frowns. “What books?”
“My Potter books. I want them back before the new one drops,” Anton says before flouncing off to do whatever it is he does to stay all flouncy and shit.
Chris pushes the door open and finds Anton’s books lying on a tiny sofa. He feels like barging onto set with the incriminating evidence and accuse Zach of being a hypocrite, but he picks up Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, flips it to the page that Zach has so carefully bookmarked, and writes lightly in pencil (so it can be erased and Anton won’t come find him in the middle of the night and pour sulfuric acid on his face) Snape kills Dumbledore.
He walks out and goes back to wandering the set, feeling rather pleased with himself when Zach looks over and gives him a weird look as he slaps John on the ass.
“’Sup, babycakes,” John grins. “Miss me?”
“Every second of every day, honey-bun.”
;;
“Did you write that shit in my book?”
“I wrote shit in Anton’s book.”
“Real mature, Chris.”
“Oh, and writing shit in my books isn’t? Real mature, Zach.”
“You were reading Twilight.”
“So I deserved it then? You were reading Harry Potter! And it wasn’t even your copy!”
“Potter is a best-seller.”
“So is Twilight!”
“Potter is a legitimate bestseller.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that the New York Times had a list of legitimate bestsellers.”
“C’mon, Chris, you can’t possibly like that shit.”
“That’s not the point.”
“You don’t!” Zach exclaims gleefully. “You don’t even like it!”
“You’re deviating, Zachary,” Chris harrumphs.
Zach ignores him. “Why would you subject yourself to that? What could possibly be in it for you?”
“Because it’s tradition!”
“It’s tradition to read about glittering vampires?”
Chris scoffs. “At least give me some credit, Zach.”
“What then?”
“Reading every bestseller.”
Zach blinks. “Dude, there’s like, a hundred.”
“I think it’s twenty, actually. Besides, I only read the top ten.”
“Of every week?”
“Well, it’s not like it changes by much.”
“How do you do that? I’ve barely had the time to finish those Potter books in six months.”
Chris smirks. “I guess I’m just more talented.”
viii.
When Zach shows up late to set, Chris is ready and waiting.
“Late night?” he asks, grinning.
Zach exerts a noise somewhere between a groan and miffed scoff. “Drop it.”
“Where did you go?”
“Nowhere."
“Ah, cooked then did you? And did she fall for the suave Italian move?”
“Shut up, Chris,” Zach says warningly.
“Okay, did he fall for the suave Italian move?”
The corner of Zach’s mouth twitches, as if unable to decide between smirking mysteriously or grinning triumphantly. It settles somewhere on a forced grimace. Chris grins. “Is it someone I know?”
Zach snorts.
“Is it Anton? ‘Cause he’s been a little funny these days.”
“Leave it alone, Chris,” Zach groans.
“Oh my God, is it Eric? I never would’ve guessed. I figured you were more a Karl guy.”
“Chris.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to be concerned, but I know, I know, you’re a big boy, you can take care of yourself.”
“Go away, Christopher.”
“I’m just making sure you’re being safe, Zachary. I know that people tend to get caught up in the moment and not think of the consequences.”
He has to duck to avoid being fatally injured by a hardback version of War and Peace.
“It’s okay!” he calls over his shoulder as he scrambles out the door. “I’m guilty of it, too!”
;;
“I’m coming over,” Zach says before hanging up.
Chris blinks. “Okay?” he answers uncertainly to silence before he gets up and unlocks the door.
A few minutes later, Zach walks in, looking rather angry. “They surrounded my house,” he announces before going into the kitchen.
Chris lets him slam a few cabinets before saying, “That sucks, man.”
“I don’t have any privacy, anymore. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t expect it, but it’s still fucking ridiculous because it’s like I’m some fucking exotic zoo animal that’s on display for the public to ogle at freely.”
“You could try charging an appearance fee.”
Slam. “I’m serious, Chris.”
“Yeah, okay, sorry.”
He hears Zach sigh. “I shouldn’t be taking this out on you.”
Chris nods. “No, you shouldn’t. Especially since you’re not the only one this is happening to.”
There’s a small pause, then Zach sits down on Chris’ sofa and sets two bottled waters on the table.
“I’m sorry.”
Chris waves him off. “It’s fine, man. It’s not like I deal much better than you.”
“Still-”
“Besides, we haven’t punched anyone yet.”
Zach laughs. “Yeah, I guess we are good, then.”
They lapse into a short silence.
“Chris?”
“Hm?”
“I’m gay.”
“Okay.”
“That’s all?”
“What? Do you want me to throw you out or should we get drunk and have sex?”
Zach laughs quietly. “I don’t want to leave yet, so I guess I pick the latter.”
“Yeah, well, I’m exhausted so I think I can only manage getting drunk part.”
“Oh, how will I live?”
“Sorry, sweetheart. Maybe next time.”
“Yeah,” Zach says, giving him an odd look. “Next time.”
ix.
There’s something different about the way they interact in life after Trek. Something about this movie has knocked something off-balance. It’s not the easy, smooth flow they once had. It also doesn’t help that he’s fallen in love with the entire cast, from Anton’s yippiness to Bruce’s weird tone of snark that Chris can never quite distinguish between funny and vicious.
“It feels like I stole his cat, and he knows but he didn’t like the cat much anyway so he doesn’t care. But I still stole his cat.” he finishes lamely.
Anton smiles, but doesn’t laugh, and for that, Chris is grateful.
“He loves his cat, by the way. It’s just - you know - an analogy.”
“I know.”
“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this anyway. Why would you care?”
“It’s probably because I wouldn’t.”
“You don’t care?”
“About you propositioning Zach? No, not really.”
“That was stupid, wasn’t it.”
“You don’t need a shiny college degree to know that.”
“Touché, kid. Touché.”
“But is that really the problem? I mean, you guys make sex jokes all the time.”
“I don’t know,” Chris groans. “I didn’t think it meant anything, but it’s been kind of awkward ever since. I mean, what do you say when someone comes out to you? ‘Thanks for telling me, I love you unconditionally.’? God, how the fuck can this be more difficult than decoding girlspeak?”
Anton laughs. “Because you didn’t spend all your life learning gayspeak?”
“Point taken.”
“Anyway, you’ll figure it out,” Anton says, nodding wisely.
“’Course I will, wunderkind,” Chris yawns. “I’m James fucking Kirk.”
;;
They’re in a press junket when Chris figures it out (sort of) and decides to set things straight (sort of).
“It was uh, very odd because you know, having not been a fan, it’s not as sacrosanct to me as it would be to anybody else.”
Zach furrows his brow and looks over. “Wow.”
“I know, I had to pull that word out,” Chris continues, suppressing the desire to laugh.
“Alright, he’s waiting for the end of the day for the ten-dollar words,” Zach states, seemingly impressed.
Chris rewards himself with an enthusiastic Cha-Ching! because he knows that now, everything has somehow magically gone back to normal. Sort of, anyway. (And they do, really, because Zach starts slipping their inside jokes into interviews, and that, in any speak, means they’re good. At least, Chris hopes so.)
;;
“Hey man,” Chris sighs, running a hand through his hair as he flops onto the open seat.
“Tired?”
“Exhausted.”
“Ready to go home?”
“Dude, you have no idea,” he says, sighing exasperatedly. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in we-oh shit!”
Zach looks up, startled. “What?”
“Presents!” Chris half-screeches, jumping out of his seat. He looks around, searching for the nearest Duty-Free shop.
“Wait, for who?”
“Whom,” Chris says without thinking.
“Sorry?”
“For whom. Not who.”
Zach looks at him oddly, like he can’t quite believe they really are having that conversation. Chris shrugs sheepishly. “For Kat. I’ll be right back!”
Zach stares after him. “Whatever, Berkeley.”
;;
“Everything work out, okay?”
Chris puts Anton on speakerphone as he begins to unpack his suitcase.
“I think so. He’s not giving me that ‘I know what you did’ look anymore, anyway.”
“That’s good. What did you say?”
“Huh?”
“What did you tell him?”
“What? Oh, I just upped my vocabulary.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, I was answering some question and threw in something like ‘sacrosanct.’”
“Wait, you guys made up because you indulged his logophilia?”
“I guess so?”
“…God, you two are so gay for each other.”
“I am not gay for him.”
“Dude, come on, I was your trailer-neighbor, and I had the wonderful job of waking you up when need be. You talk in your sleep.”
“What do you mean?” Chris says, a little too quickly, a little too high-pitched…ly.
“For one, I have kept your Sylar fetish a secret, and I expect a favor in return for such chivalry, and two, you always say Zach’s name when I’m trying to wake you up.”
“Anton, are you blackmailing me?” Chris asks incredulously.
“Hey, someone has to tell Zach you’re into breathplay.”
“I feel violated.”
“My ears were violated.”
“Don’t you have something you need to do?”
Anton laughs. “Bye, Chris.” The little fucker doesn’t even give Chris the satisfaction of hanging up first.
x.
“Dude!” Zach singsongs over the phone with the ‘u’ coming out much longer than he intended.
“Zach?”
“You have to come out tonight,” Zach drawls happily.
Chris pauses, trying to figure out why the fuck Zach is speaking like that. “Are you okay, man?”
“Ah, Chris,” Zach says. “I believe I may be legally drunk.”
Chris feels like replying with “Uh, no shit?” but he saves the snark for a time when his gay bff isn’t drunk-dialing him at 5 in the afternoon on a Wednesday. “Should I come over?”
“…It might help,” Zach admits.
;;
“I thought you hated clichés,” Chris asked as he hands Zach a glass of water.
“What?”
“C’mon man, breaking up with your boyfriend and getting drunk?”
“He was not my boyfriend,” Zach says, but he forgets there’s water in his mouth and ends up spluttering out boyfriend.
Chris thumps him on the back. “Your fuck buddy then.”
“We weren’t-”
“Yeah, you were.”
“Okay, we were,” Zach concedes. “Is that a bad thing?”
“What free sex? Of course not.”
Zach laughs a little. “Thanks, man.”
“Sure thing.”
;;
“So, you never explained what happened.”
Zach cradles the phone between shoulder and ear as he pours more milk into the saucepan. “It’s not hardly worth sharing.”
“Oh, but you know how nosy I am.”
“It was Anton.”
There’s a sound that sounds a lot like something heavy hitting a counter. “What?”
“Oh my god, I don’t even know, Chris. I was just really desperate-”
“What?”
“It wasn’t like I went up to him and said ‘Hey Anton, I know you’re almost young enough to be jailbait. Wanna fuck?’ I just-”
“Zach, he’s a kid!”
“It just happened!” he groans.
“It always just happens.”
“Chris,” Zach says warningly.
“Zach.”
“Why do you care so much?”
“Zach!” Chris half-screeches in such a voice that makes Zach jump a little. “He’s a fucking kid!”
“You think I don’t know this?” Zach retorts. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”
“Did I not make it clear enough? He’s a fucking-”
“Kid. I know, Chris.”
“I don’t know what to say. I need a minute.” And he hangs up before Zach can say good-bye. He seriously can’t think of anything to say, but he calls Anton anyway.
“Hello?”
“You - I can’t even - Why - I mean -”
“You talked to Zach?” Anton guesses.
“You’re - You - Jailbait!” Chris splutters.
“Actually,” Anton answers. “I’m two years over that line.”
“How can you be some calm about this?” Chris doesn’t intend for it to sound as accusing as it does, but it does, and frankly, he doesn’t care.
“Because it didn’t mean anything? Because it wasn’t serious? Look, why do you care so much?”
“Anton, you listened to me whine and bitch about him all this time while you were secretly fucking him! And why shouldn’t I care?” he adds as an afterthought.
“Okay, A. it’s not like you needed to know, and B. it’s not like you don’t know anyone who has a friend-with-benefits. I’m surprised you don’t have one.”
“Why does everyone think I’m a manwhore?”
Anton laughs. “Because you’re seemingly straight?”
“Kid, I don’t even know why I care about you so much.”
“It’s okay, we’ll work on that after we fix you and Zach.”
;;
So Anton’s idea of ‘fix’ turns out to be a fucking party. Fuck twenty-year-old actors very much, and fuck Anton for convincing him it was a good idea.
“I thought we agreed no more parties until the next century?” Zach asks as he claps Chris around the shoulder in bro-hug-friendly sort of way.
“Call it my mid-life crisis,” Chris mutters as he takes a swig of…well, something.
“Dude,” Zach laughs. “Are you still mad about the Anton thing?”
“No,” he lies.
“Chris, you’re acting like I stole your girlfriend,” Zach snorts.
Chris eyes him carefully. “Now I know that didn’t happen.”
“Dude, seriously, it didn’t mean anything.”
Chris sighs. “I know.”
“Now will you stop?” Zach laughs. “People will think I cheated on you or something.”
“Because you totally did,” Chris huffs.
“Would it make you feel better if we had make-up sex?”
“A little,” Chris grumbles, his lip twitching into a smile.
Zach grins. “You’d let me fuck you over the kitchen counter?”
“If you cleaned it first, sure.”
xi.
So it turns out that this may be the most unromantic way he’s ever gotten together with someone. It goes something like this:
“Wanna fuck?”
Chris chokes on his coffee and ends up sloshing half the cup all over his shirt. “What?”
“I figured I might as well ask you since you’d flip out if I asked anyone else.”
“Uh, thanks?”
Zach smirks. “So is that a yes?”
Chris blinks, looks down at his shirt, then up at Zach. “Is that supposed to be a pick-up line?”
;;
Of course, Chris soon realizes that dating a guy is way harder than dating a girl. Actually, dating a guy shouldn’t be this hard, but dating Zach is. For one, Zach really isn’t able to make a best-dressed list without copious amounts of help - help that Chris is simply too nice of a boyfriend to give. Luckily, he’s got help.
“Zach, that is atrocious.”
“It’s my best suit!”
“Honey, I’m talking about your shoes.”
“They’re my favorite pair!”
Zoe frowns. “Doesn’t make them any less atrocious.”
“Chris like them!”
Zoe raises an eyebrow as Chris nods obediently.
“Zach, they’re orange.”
“I like them,” Zach argues stubbornly.
Finally, she says in all seriousness, “Sweetie, are you colorblind?”
Zach glares at her, before stalking off to his room. Chris does his best to bite back a smile as he discreetly slips Zoe a twenty-dollar bill.
;;
“Wait, you’re going to buy that?”
“What’s wrong with this?” Zach cries indignantly.
“Oh Zachary,” Kristen sighs as she gently pulls him away from the counter. “Leave the boyfriend Christmas shopping to the big girls.”
“But Chris would like those!”
Kristen snorts. “Yeah, he’d like those in his trash. C’mon, let’s go look at hats.”
;;
“Morning,” Chris yawns, bending down to kiss Zach’s cheek.
“Afternoon,” Zach answers absently as he flips the page on his newspaper.
“You’re kinda scratchy.”
“It’s called a five-o’clock shadow, Christopher.”
“I call it, ‘You need to shave’.”
“Christopher-”
“I’m serious, man. I like my men clean-shaven with a hint of Calvin Klein.”
Zach frowns. “Calvin Klein? Why Calvin Klein?”
Chris grins. “Because it’s Obsession,” he states dramatically.
Zach snorts. “I can’t believe that I ever thought, even for a moment, that you were straight.”
“What can I say?” Chris grins as he pours himself a cup of coffee. “I’m a fucking good actor.”
Summary: It starts with Disney.
Word Count: 5,565
A/N: For sarrni_korppi because I was supposed to finish this like six months ago. I fudged the timelines a little too.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen.
;
i.
It doesn’t start with a drunken fuck or even a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend set-up. It starts with Disney, and Chris just wants to crawl under a rock and die because ohmygod he can’t stand the screaming. He shuffles quickly after Anne, plastering a huge happy grin on his face while waving to the nine-year-old girls screeching “Lord Nicholas!”
He tries to blend in with the people who are just kind of here, crowded in the deemed “lesser-known” corner of the room. It’s not hard, really. In fact, he looks just like that one guy from that five seconds of that one episode on that one show. (What channel was that thing on again? NBC. Right, right.) He takes a sip of water.
It turns out most of these people were either a. extras on Princess that he’d never had the chance to meet, or b. guest stars/extras-who-had-two-lines on one Disney show or another.
“Hi,” an extra who had two lines on one Disney show or another says brightly with the friendliness of too much fairies and teeny-boppers. “I’m Zach.”
Chris sighs. He had tried to avoid this premiere as he would the plague, but Disney rules the world so - “Hi. I’m not drunk,” he answers.
The other man quirks his lips into a small smile. “Well, hate to break it to you, buddy, but neither am I.”
Chris smiles charmingly, but he just wants this guy to go away so he can sulk alone and unnoticed.
“You’re not drunk yet.”
“Yet,” this Zach person acquiesces. “And since I am yet to be inebriated, can I get your name?”
“No.”
“C’mon man,” Zach laughs. “I even threw in ‘inebriated.’”
Chris can’t stop the twitch of his lips so he relents. “Okay, fine, I’m Chris.”
Zach grins. “I know. My Lord,” he mock-salutes.
That is how it starts.
ii.
Zach can be charming, Chris will admit that. He’s already half-naked, and it’s only their second meeting.
“Jesus Christ,” Zach groans, ridding himself of his polyester shirt. “What the fuck is wrong with your air conditioner?”
“I don’t know,” Chris flails, hitting the top of the machine with a half-hearted thwack. It merely grumbles and remains loud and more infuriatingly, hot. “This is all your fucking fault,” he said, pointing accusingly at Zach.
“Thanks a fucking lot.”
“Can’t we go to your fucking house?”
“I don’t fucking have cable.”
“Why the fuck are we friends again?”
“Because I, for one, can cook.”
“What-fucking-ever.”
;;
“Have you ever wanted to do theatre?”
“I started as a theatre actor, y’know,” Chris answers, tapping his pen against his newspaper.
“Do you want to go back to it?”
“I don’t know. I liked it, so yeah, maybe. Why?”
“Be over in fifteen minutes?”
“Door’s unlocked.”
“Be right there.”
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
“Seven-letter word for ‘to suffocate’ or ‘to stifle’?”
“Scomfish?”
“That’s eight letters, genius.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“’Kay, bye.”
“Bye.”
Chris stares at his paper, mulling over his choices. Carefully, he writes in ‘smother’.
Ten minutes later, Zach opens the door to his apartment, carrying a stack of papers. “Okay,” he says, sitting down next to Chris on the small sofa. “I like it, but I think you’re better for it.” With that, he drops the papers - er, script - on Chris’ lap, successively concealing the crossword.
“Asshole, I was almost done with that!”
“This is more important,” Zach retorts, waving his hand dismissively. “By the way, the word is-”
“’Smother’, I know,” Chris says, dropping his pen bitterly. He glances at the title of the play. “’Farragut North’?”
Zach shrugs. “You don’t have to do it.”
Chris skims through the first few pages. “Eh, when’s the audition?”
“I don’t know, a year from now maybe?”
“A year?”
“Possibly two?”
“Two years?”
Zach shrugs again. “It’s kind of a rough draft.”
“A rough draft?”
“It’s kind of not finished yet.”
“It’s not finished? Christ, Zach, what did you do? Sleep with the playwright?”
“Of course not,” Zach answers dryly. “My brother did.”
iii.
They kind of fall out of touch because Chris has that new movie, and Zach has his projects and whatnot. Which sucks. Especially when the only other person who currently shares your insane sleeping pattern is Lindsay Lohan. Not that Chris doesn’t like Lindsay. She’s nice enough. You know.
;;
There’s no big press tour for the movie, and for that, Chris is thankful. He gets a few double-takes at Intelligentsia now, but Kelly, the barista, still serves his coffee the same way, just with an added suppressed smirk.
He presses his sunglasses further up his nose and nods a thank-you.
“What kind of obnoxious English Lit major wears sunglasses when they’re inside?” someone comments loudly as he exits the coffee shop.
He turns. “What kind of obnoxious Drama student wears stripes after Labor Day?”
Zach tosses his head back in a miffed sort of way. “I like this shirt,” he declares.
“Well, I don’t.”
Zach rolls his eyes. “Well, I don’t like your glasses,” is his pithy retort.
“Fair enough.”
Zach smiles. “See you later?” he asks uncertainly.
“For realsies, baby,” he grins, pulling his glasses down just enough to wink at Zach. Straightening up, he adds in a slightly more dignified tone, “Text me or something. It’s been forever since I’ve had a good grilled cheese.”
“For realsies,” Zach promises.
;;
iv.
For the record, he didn’t get into Heroes because Zach pimped it out to him. He gets into Heroes because his sister pimps it out to him. (OMG, did you see that new show last night? What show? That Heroes show. On NBC. No. Well, you should watch it. Okay?) So he watches it on Veoh and then forgets about it. That is, until the next week when his sister calls to remind him that a show called Heroes exists and is playing right now, and he should watch it. So he does. He likes seeing Milo Ventimiglia with a Messiah complex.
“So did you watch it?”
Chris cradles his phone between his ear and shoulder as he turns the page on his book. Katie Bell was still in St. Mungo’s Hospital… “Good morning to you, too.”
“Morning. Did you watch it?”
“Watch what?”
“Heroes,” his sister sighs, so loudly and obviously that Chris is surprised that he can’t physically see the exasperation.
“Yes, Mother, I did watch it. I cleaned the house, too. Even took out the trash.”
“And?”
“And what?” If they lost…well, Harry had endured worse mutterings…
“And what did you think?”
Chris sighs. “I think Milo is very much your type. Perfect ass.”
“Shove it, dickhead.”
“Ooh, very classy.” But she’d already hung up.
He shrugs and drops the phone somewhere over by his feet. She’ll probably call back tonight.
;;
“HOLY SHIT, I KNOW THAT GUY.”
“Yes, genius, he’s only the guy who’s been killing everyone.”
Chris rolls his eyes and points at his TV screen, even though he’s well aware his sister can’t see. “No, I mean, I know that guy.”
“Really?” Katherine asks, a tone of interest replacing her usual snark. “Is he single?”
“Aren’t you married?”
“Aren’t you not?”
“Wow, that hurts, Kat. That really does. You know, I thought we had something special going on.”
“Fuck you, baby bro,” she retorts cheerfully. “So is he single?”
Chris sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe. I never asked.”
“You’re useless,” she scoffs and hangs up.
He frowns for a moment before he calls Zach.
“Hello?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Chris?”
“Yeah, hi,” he mutters. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“About what?”
“Heroes!”
A pause, then - “Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.”
“I didn’t think it was relevant.”
Chris rolls his eyes at the ceiling before taking an annoyed bite out of his apple. “I asked you the other day if you had anything new going on!”
“I didn’t,” Zach answers mildly. “We finished filming months ago.”
“You’re being difficult.”
“My apologies.”
“I’ll talk to you later, asshole.”
“Charming.”
“Good-bye.”
“Bye.”
;;
Apparently, Zach’s idea of an apology is to buy Chris coffee because he shows up an hour later, cappuccinos in hand.
“What happened to your soy-chai-non-fat-whatever?”
Zach shrugs. “I’m still in the process of acquiring a taste for it.”
“Just admit it, it’s disgusting.”
“It’s an acquired taste, Christopher.”
“You’re supposed to be trying to win my forgiveness. Don’t argue with me.”
“Sorry, it is disgusting.”
“The soy thing or-”
“The soy thing.”
v.
Chris can’t believe his luck. Of all the people his publicist could meet while running errands, she had to run into J.J. Abrams’ wife. Of all people. He makes a mental note to send Pauline the biggest, most expensive bouquet he can afford - which is to say, the nicest, least-wilted two-dozen roses he can find at Costco.
“Chris?”
Chris stands. “Yes?”
“I’m J.J., nice to meet you, come with me.”
For someone so small, Chris has to walk quickly to keep up. “Uh, sir-”
“It’s J.J., and all I want you to do is read this part -” he shoves a sheet of paper into Chris’ chest. “With our Spock. I really don’t care about your experience. I just - I need chemistry. If it doesn’t happen, I’m sorry, but y’know it’s - thanks for coming.”
Chris blinks and stares at the paper. “Um, okay.”
“Through here, and take a seat.”
Chris enters a room where several other people seated. He sits down next to a guy with too-slick hair and raspy breath.
“This is going to be big, you know,” Too-Slick informs him.
Chris nods stiffly and tries to concentrate on the words on the page.
“So you’re auditioning for Kirk?”
The voice is so familiar that all Chris can do is just stare. Zach smiles nervously.
After a moment, he simply groans and covers his face with his hands. “Forget it,” he says, sound muffled. “I learned years ago just not to ask.”
“Good,” Zach replies. “Because according to my contract, I’m not allowed to answer, lest I intend to suffer any legal litigations.”
J.J. clears his throat, eyes dancing with excitement. “Shall we begin?”
;;
It’s 1 am when Zach turns up outside, wearing a huge a grin and carrying a six-pack. “I’m not supposed to say anything,” he admits. “But check in with your agent in the morning.”
He would’ve been pleased, of course, had he not been asleep, but Zach makes him a grilled cheese so it’s all good.
vi.
Just so it’s clear, it’s not like Chris has a big gay freak-out or anything. It isn’t that he’s gay or even bisexual. He was born with eyes that can see, and they see this Zach person as a fucking 30 on scale of one to ten.
He manages to convince himself his curiousity-slash-obsession extends only as far as Sylar. Sylar is everything he isn’t - sly, cunning, manipulative. He’s supposed to be intrigued-bordering-on-psychopathic. Sylar is a cube with eight sides, and Chris has to do everything in his power to figure him out. Even if he has to moan the man’s name in the middle of his morning shower. (We will kindly go temporarily deaf when Chris moans Zach instead of Sylar.) It’s all extremely self-sacrificial really. No, really.
He holds himself together by repeating his mantra of “This is Zach; that is Sylar,” and it works pretty damn well up until Zoe has to get all flirty and charming and say, “Hi. I’m Zoe,” like they’re all in elementary school, not on the back of the movie lot.
“Hi,” Zach answers, with a sort of pained, stoic expression on his face. “My name is Zach.” Those black-rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of Zach’s nose are not helping.
Chris totally doesn’t watch Heroes reruns that night. No, honestly.
;;
Somehow, even with all the secrecy, the bodyguards, and the synchronized watches, it’s just Chris’ luck that he crashes into Zach coming out of the This-Is-Totally-Not-The-Hair-And-Make-Up trailer right after that moment. After mourning the loss of his fresh coffee, Chris gets the full impact of what’s standing in front of him.
“Duuude.”
“Don’t even-” Zach half-groans, half-wails.
“Wow.”
“Shut up.”
“No, dude, I mean - it’s just…Wooow.”
“Shut up, Chris,” and the man flees before Chris can say anything else.
Chris tries really hard not to laugh after he hears Zach’s trailer door slam. Well, you know, not loudly.
He calms down enough to call Zach (because he is a good friend and wants to show support).
“Christopher, I swear to God-”
“It doesn’t look bad!” Chris interjects. “Well, it’s not like, terrible. Wait no, I mean, it’s cute. It’s adorable. It’s-”
“Hanging up now.”
“Aw, come on, sweetheart, don’t be like that.”
“Asshole.” And the line goes dead.
Chris stares at his phone, bemused. He hits redial without thinking.
“Hair grows back, you know.”
“Fuck off.”
Chris tries again, but the call goes straight to voicemail. He chuckles to himself before texting an apology.
I always though bowl cuts were sexy. (:
He gets an answer an hour later and grins.
There are two ‘t’s in ‘thought’, Berkeley.
;;
“What is this shit?”
“I’m sorry, I thought you were trying to win my forgiveness?”
“I am, but I refuse to be subjected to this. I’m gonna throw up.”
“You can’t diss this movie.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s JJ’s movie, so you’ll have to suck it up, or he’ll fire you.”
“Dude, that’s not cool.”
“Neither was dissing my hair.”
“I said it was sexy.”
Zach pulls a face which Chris classifies as the adult version of a pout (which is really just a regular child/puppy pout, but more pathetic).
“No, seriously, man,” Chris says, winking with that All-American-Boy charm. “It’s cute.”
Zach rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude.”
Chris shrugs and settles himself comfortably against the sofa, yawning. “Mmm, s’all good.”
Zach smiles. “Yeah, it’s all good.”
vii.
It’s always Zach Sylar. Sylar with his arm pressing against Chris’ throat - Sylar with his tongue in Chris’ mouth, pulling all the oxygen away - Sylar with his fingers working Chris open. And it’s Sylar’s -
“CHRIS!”
“WHAT?!” he shouts, arms flailing wildly, narrowly missing Anton’s head.
“Christ, you sleep like a fucking rock, man,” Anton huffs. Without pausing for breath, he prattles off a list of things that J.J., Bryan, and that one person who shows up every ten days whose name is Kevin or Frank or something equally generic wanted to get done. “Didjagedallthat?”
“Mmphf.”
“See you later. And don’t go back to sleep!” he adds as he’s halfway out the door.
After he’s gone, Chris groans, rolls over, and buries his head under the covers.
;;
"Christopher."
It's not that this is the first time that Zach's called him something other than Chris (there's fucker, you, and Chris' current favorite sanctimonious little shit), but it's the first time he's heard Zach speak with such contempt. He quickly runs through a check list in his head of Things I Possibly Could've Done, and comes up with zilch.
"What?" he asks, curiously.
"What is this?" Zach says, rather contemptuously as he shoves a large black book in Chris’ face.
Chris takes a step back, blinks, and peers at the font.
"It's, uh, Twilight."
Zach scoffs. "Clearly. What is it, Chris? Stoker no longer up to your standards?"
Chris glares at him. "Just because I have a degree does not mean I can go around reading critically acclaimed works all the fucking time. That's obnoxious."
"Christopher, I swear to God, I am not talking to you until you throw this out."
"Aw, come on, Zach," Chris laughs. "Ultimatums aren't sexy."
Still, it's been a while, and Zach hasn't seen the book anywhere. At least, not until one day when he sleeps over at Chris' after a late-night Anton Yelchin moviefest. (They're trying to watch every movie that any member of the cast's been in. So far, they've done Chris, Zoe, Bruce, and half of J.J.’s repetoire.)
"Christopher, what is this?"
Chris frowns and looks. "A book, Zachary. Do you need to borrow my glasses?"
"You should be comedian," Zach answers dryly. "I thought you got rid of it."
Chris snorts. "Well, I didn't. How did you find it anyway?"
"My head hurt. Turns out it's because this was under my pillow, murdering my brain cells."
"We could do stand-up together."
"Seriously though, I was looking for my phone. I thought it might’ve fallen under the bed so I checked and found-" he waves the book for a moment “-this.”
"I put it in the drawer."
“Chris, I’m holding this shit in my hand. It was under the bed.”
“I meant your phone, asshole.”
"Oh…thanks."
"Sure thing."
Zach makes sure to place the book in the exact place under the mattress that he found it in so when Chris picks up the book next, there's writing on the first page. They break up in the second one.
;;
He only has one scene today so he wanders the set aimlessly. There’s nothing fun to do, really. He decides to hide out in Zach’s trailer until the other actor finishes up.
“Hey, Chris!”
“What’s up, wunderkind?” he asks, pausing at the front of Zach’s door.
“Tell Zach I want my books back.”
Chris frowns. “What books?”
“My Potter books. I want them back before the new one drops,” Anton says before flouncing off to do whatever it is he does to stay all flouncy and shit.
Chris pushes the door open and finds Anton’s books lying on a tiny sofa. He feels like barging onto set with the incriminating evidence and accuse Zach of being a hypocrite, but he picks up Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, flips it to the page that Zach has so carefully bookmarked, and writes lightly in pencil (so it can be erased and Anton won’t come find him in the middle of the night and pour sulfuric acid on his face) Snape kills Dumbledore.
He walks out and goes back to wandering the set, feeling rather pleased with himself when Zach looks over and gives him a weird look as he slaps John on the ass.
“’Sup, babycakes,” John grins. “Miss me?”
“Every second of every day, honey-bun.”
;;
“Did you write that shit in my book?”
“I wrote shit in Anton’s book.”
“Real mature, Chris.”
“Oh, and writing shit in my books isn’t? Real mature, Zach.”
“You were reading Twilight.”
“So I deserved it then? You were reading Harry Potter! And it wasn’t even your copy!”
“Potter is a best-seller.”
“So is Twilight!”
“Potter is a legitimate bestseller.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that the New York Times had a list of legitimate bestsellers.”
“C’mon, Chris, you can’t possibly like that shit.”
“That’s not the point.”
“You don’t!” Zach exclaims gleefully. “You don’t even like it!”
“You’re deviating, Zachary,” Chris harrumphs.
Zach ignores him. “Why would you subject yourself to that? What could possibly be in it for you?”
“Because it’s tradition!”
“It’s tradition to read about glittering vampires?”
Chris scoffs. “At least give me some credit, Zach.”
“What then?”
“Reading every bestseller.”
Zach blinks. “Dude, there’s like, a hundred.”
“I think it’s twenty, actually. Besides, I only read the top ten.”
“Of every week?”
“Well, it’s not like it changes by much.”
“How do you do that? I’ve barely had the time to finish those Potter books in six months.”
Chris smirks. “I guess I’m just more talented.”
viii.
When Zach shows up late to set, Chris is ready and waiting.
“Late night?” he asks, grinning.
Zach exerts a noise somewhere between a groan and miffed scoff. “Drop it.”
“Where did you go?”
“Nowhere."
“Ah, cooked then did you? And did she fall for the suave Italian move?”
“Shut up, Chris,” Zach says warningly.
“Okay, did he fall for the suave Italian move?”
The corner of Zach’s mouth twitches, as if unable to decide between smirking mysteriously or grinning triumphantly. It settles somewhere on a forced grimace. Chris grins. “Is it someone I know?”
Zach snorts.
“Is it Anton? ‘Cause he’s been a little funny these days.”
“Leave it alone, Chris,” Zach groans.
“Oh my God, is it Eric? I never would’ve guessed. I figured you were more a Karl guy.”
“Chris.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to be concerned, but I know, I know, you’re a big boy, you can take care of yourself.”
“Go away, Christopher.”
“I’m just making sure you’re being safe, Zachary. I know that people tend to get caught up in the moment and not think of the consequences.”
He has to duck to avoid being fatally injured by a hardback version of War and Peace.
“It’s okay!” he calls over his shoulder as he scrambles out the door. “I’m guilty of it, too!”
;;
“I’m coming over,” Zach says before hanging up.
Chris blinks. “Okay?” he answers uncertainly to silence before he gets up and unlocks the door.
A few minutes later, Zach walks in, looking rather angry. “They surrounded my house,” he announces before going into the kitchen.
Chris lets him slam a few cabinets before saying, “That sucks, man.”
“I don’t have any privacy, anymore. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t expect it, but it’s still fucking ridiculous because it’s like I’m some fucking exotic zoo animal that’s on display for the public to ogle at freely.”
“You could try charging an appearance fee.”
Slam. “I’m serious, Chris.”
“Yeah, okay, sorry.”
He hears Zach sigh. “I shouldn’t be taking this out on you.”
Chris nods. “No, you shouldn’t. Especially since you’re not the only one this is happening to.”
There’s a small pause, then Zach sits down on Chris’ sofa and sets two bottled waters on the table.
“I’m sorry.”
Chris waves him off. “It’s fine, man. It’s not like I deal much better than you.”
“Still-”
“Besides, we haven’t punched anyone yet.”
Zach laughs. “Yeah, I guess we are good, then.”
They lapse into a short silence.
“Chris?”
“Hm?”
“I’m gay.”
“Okay.”
“That’s all?”
“What? Do you want me to throw you out or should we get drunk and have sex?”
Zach laughs quietly. “I don’t want to leave yet, so I guess I pick the latter.”
“Yeah, well, I’m exhausted so I think I can only manage getting drunk part.”
“Oh, how will I live?”
“Sorry, sweetheart. Maybe next time.”
“Yeah,” Zach says, giving him an odd look. “Next time.”
ix.
There’s something different about the way they interact in life after Trek. Something about this movie has knocked something off-balance. It’s not the easy, smooth flow they once had. It also doesn’t help that he’s fallen in love with the entire cast, from Anton’s yippiness to Bruce’s weird tone of snark that Chris can never quite distinguish between funny and vicious.
“It feels like I stole his cat, and he knows but he didn’t like the cat much anyway so he doesn’t care. But I still stole his cat.” he finishes lamely.
Anton smiles, but doesn’t laugh, and for that, Chris is grateful.
“He loves his cat, by the way. It’s just - you know - an analogy.”
“I know.”
“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this anyway. Why would you care?”
“It’s probably because I wouldn’t.”
“You don’t care?”
“About you propositioning Zach? No, not really.”
“That was stupid, wasn’t it.”
“You don’t need a shiny college degree to know that.”
“Touché, kid. Touché.”
“But is that really the problem? I mean, you guys make sex jokes all the time.”
“I don’t know,” Chris groans. “I didn’t think it meant anything, but it’s been kind of awkward ever since. I mean, what do you say when someone comes out to you? ‘Thanks for telling me, I love you unconditionally.’? God, how the fuck can this be more difficult than decoding girlspeak?”
Anton laughs. “Because you didn’t spend all your life learning gayspeak?”
“Point taken.”
“Anyway, you’ll figure it out,” Anton says, nodding wisely.
“’Course I will, wunderkind,” Chris yawns. “I’m James fucking Kirk.”
;;
They’re in a press junket when Chris figures it out (sort of) and decides to set things straight (sort of).
“It was uh, very odd because you know, having not been a fan, it’s not as sacrosanct to me as it would be to anybody else.”
Zach furrows his brow and looks over. “Wow.”
“I know, I had to pull that word out,” Chris continues, suppressing the desire to laugh.
“Alright, he’s waiting for the end of the day for the ten-dollar words,” Zach states, seemingly impressed.
Chris rewards himself with an enthusiastic Cha-Ching! because he knows that now, everything has somehow magically gone back to normal. Sort of, anyway. (And they do, really, because Zach starts slipping their inside jokes into interviews, and that, in any speak, means they’re good. At least, Chris hopes so.)
;;
“Hey man,” Chris sighs, running a hand through his hair as he flops onto the open seat.
“Tired?”
“Exhausted.”
“Ready to go home?”
“Dude, you have no idea,” he says, sighing exasperatedly. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in we-oh shit!”
Zach looks up, startled. “What?”
“Presents!” Chris half-screeches, jumping out of his seat. He looks around, searching for the nearest Duty-Free shop.
“Wait, for who?”
“Whom,” Chris says without thinking.
“Sorry?”
“For whom. Not who.”
Zach looks at him oddly, like he can’t quite believe they really are having that conversation. Chris shrugs sheepishly. “For Kat. I’ll be right back!”
Zach stares after him. “Whatever, Berkeley.”
;;
“Everything work out, okay?”
Chris puts Anton on speakerphone as he begins to unpack his suitcase.
“I think so. He’s not giving me that ‘I know what you did’ look anymore, anyway.”
“That’s good. What did you say?”
“Huh?”
“What did you tell him?”
“What? Oh, I just upped my vocabulary.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, I was answering some question and threw in something like ‘sacrosanct.’”
“Wait, you guys made up because you indulged his logophilia?”
“I guess so?”
“…God, you two are so gay for each other.”
“I am not gay for him.”
“Dude, come on, I was your trailer-neighbor, and I had the wonderful job of waking you up when need be. You talk in your sleep.”
“What do you mean?” Chris says, a little too quickly, a little too high-pitched…ly.
“For one, I have kept your Sylar fetish a secret, and I expect a favor in return for such chivalry, and two, you always say Zach’s name when I’m trying to wake you up.”
“Anton, are you blackmailing me?” Chris asks incredulously.
“Hey, someone has to tell Zach you’re into breathplay.”
“I feel violated.”
“My ears were violated.”
“Don’t you have something you need to do?”
Anton laughs. “Bye, Chris.” The little fucker doesn’t even give Chris the satisfaction of hanging up first.
x.
“Dude!” Zach singsongs over the phone with the ‘u’ coming out much longer than he intended.
“Zach?”
“You have to come out tonight,” Zach drawls happily.
Chris pauses, trying to figure out why the fuck Zach is speaking like that. “Are you okay, man?”
“Ah, Chris,” Zach says. “I believe I may be legally drunk.”
Chris feels like replying with “Uh, no shit?” but he saves the snark for a time when his gay bff isn’t drunk-dialing him at 5 in the afternoon on a Wednesday. “Should I come over?”
“…It might help,” Zach admits.
;;
“I thought you hated clichés,” Chris asked as he hands Zach a glass of water.
“What?”
“C’mon man, breaking up with your boyfriend and getting drunk?”
“He was not my boyfriend,” Zach says, but he forgets there’s water in his mouth and ends up spluttering out boyfriend.
Chris thumps him on the back. “Your fuck buddy then.”
“We weren’t-”
“Yeah, you were.”
“Okay, we were,” Zach concedes. “Is that a bad thing?”
“What free sex? Of course not.”
Zach laughs a little. “Thanks, man.”
“Sure thing.”
;;
“So, you never explained what happened.”
Zach cradles the phone between shoulder and ear as he pours more milk into the saucepan. “It’s not hardly worth sharing.”
“Oh, but you know how nosy I am.”
“It was Anton.”
There’s a sound that sounds a lot like something heavy hitting a counter. “What?”
“Oh my god, I don’t even know, Chris. I was just really desperate-”
“What?”
“It wasn’t like I went up to him and said ‘Hey Anton, I know you’re almost young enough to be jailbait. Wanna fuck?’ I just-”
“Zach, he’s a kid!”
“It just happened!” he groans.
“It always just happens.”
“Chris,” Zach says warningly.
“Zach.”
“Why do you care so much?”
“Zach!” Chris half-screeches in such a voice that makes Zach jump a little. “He’s a fucking kid!”
“You think I don’t know this?” Zach retorts. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”
“Did I not make it clear enough? He’s a fucking-”
“Kid. I know, Chris.”
“I don’t know what to say. I need a minute.” And he hangs up before Zach can say good-bye. He seriously can’t think of anything to say, but he calls Anton anyway.
“Hello?”
“You - I can’t even - Why - I mean -”
“You talked to Zach?” Anton guesses.
“You’re - You - Jailbait!” Chris splutters.
“Actually,” Anton answers. “I’m two years over that line.”
“How can you be some calm about this?” Chris doesn’t intend for it to sound as accusing as it does, but it does, and frankly, he doesn’t care.
“Because it didn’t mean anything? Because it wasn’t serious? Look, why do you care so much?”
“Anton, you listened to me whine and bitch about him all this time while you were secretly fucking him! And why shouldn’t I care?” he adds as an afterthought.
“Okay, A. it’s not like you needed to know, and B. it’s not like you don’t know anyone who has a friend-with-benefits. I’m surprised you don’t have one.”
“Why does everyone think I’m a manwhore?”
Anton laughs. “Because you’re seemingly straight?”
“Kid, I don’t even know why I care about you so much.”
“It’s okay, we’ll work on that after we fix you and Zach.”
;;
So Anton’s idea of ‘fix’ turns out to be a fucking party. Fuck twenty-year-old actors very much, and fuck Anton for convincing him it was a good idea.
“I thought we agreed no more parties until the next century?” Zach asks as he claps Chris around the shoulder in bro-hug-friendly sort of way.
“Call it my mid-life crisis,” Chris mutters as he takes a swig of…well, something.
“Dude,” Zach laughs. “Are you still mad about the Anton thing?”
“No,” he lies.
“Chris, you’re acting like I stole your girlfriend,” Zach snorts.
Chris eyes him carefully. “Now I know that didn’t happen.”
“Dude, seriously, it didn’t mean anything.”
Chris sighs. “I know.”
“Now will you stop?” Zach laughs. “People will think I cheated on you or something.”
“Because you totally did,” Chris huffs.
“Would it make you feel better if we had make-up sex?”
“A little,” Chris grumbles, his lip twitching into a smile.
Zach grins. “You’d let me fuck you over the kitchen counter?”
“If you cleaned it first, sure.”
xi.
So it turns out that this may be the most unromantic way he’s ever gotten together with someone. It goes something like this:
“Wanna fuck?”
Chris chokes on his coffee and ends up sloshing half the cup all over his shirt. “What?”
“I figured I might as well ask you since you’d flip out if I asked anyone else.”
“Uh, thanks?”
Zach smirks. “So is that a yes?”
Chris blinks, looks down at his shirt, then up at Zach. “Is that supposed to be a pick-up line?”
;;
Of course, Chris soon realizes that dating a guy is way harder than dating a girl. Actually, dating a guy shouldn’t be this hard, but dating Zach is. For one, Zach really isn’t able to make a best-dressed list without copious amounts of help - help that Chris is simply too nice of a boyfriend to give. Luckily, he’s got help.
“Zach, that is atrocious.”
“It’s my best suit!”
“Honey, I’m talking about your shoes.”
“They’re my favorite pair!”
Zoe frowns. “Doesn’t make them any less atrocious.”
“Chris like them!”
Zoe raises an eyebrow as Chris nods obediently.
“Zach, they’re orange.”
“I like them,” Zach argues stubbornly.
Finally, she says in all seriousness, “Sweetie, are you colorblind?”
Zach glares at her, before stalking off to his room. Chris does his best to bite back a smile as he discreetly slips Zoe a twenty-dollar bill.
;;
“Wait, you’re going to buy that?”
“What’s wrong with this?” Zach cries indignantly.
“Oh Zachary,” Kristen sighs as she gently pulls him away from the counter. “Leave the boyfriend Christmas shopping to the big girls.”
“But Chris would like those!”
Kristen snorts. “Yeah, he’d like those in his trash. C’mon, let’s go look at hats.”
;;
“Morning,” Chris yawns, bending down to kiss Zach’s cheek.
“Afternoon,” Zach answers absently as he flips the page on his newspaper.
“You’re kinda scratchy.”
“It’s called a five-o’clock shadow, Christopher.”
“I call it, ‘You need to shave’.”
“Christopher-”
“I’m serious, man. I like my men clean-shaven with a hint of Calvin Klein.”
Zach frowns. “Calvin Klein? Why Calvin Klein?”
Chris grins. “Because it’s Obsession,” he states dramatically.
Zach snorts. “I can’t believe that I ever thought, even for a moment, that you were straight.”
“What can I say?” Chris grins as he pours himself a cup of coffee. “I’m a fucking good actor.”