fic: five unusable interviews
Title: Five Unusable Interviews
Fandom: Star Trek RPF
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2K
Summary: Five unusable interviews from the press tour.
Notes: Saw this gif on tumblr this morning and got the sudden urge for some CLASSIC PINTO. And this happened. Pure fluffy banter nonsense. (AO3)
"Oh my God," Zach moaned as he leaned back against the couch he and Chris had been sitting in for three hours straight. "How many more?" he asked as the next minor television or print media personality came in and took the seat across from them.
"You're not gonna like it," the studio minion replied.
Zach and Chris looked at each other and then at the studio minion again, radiating as much pure despair as they could muster.
"Upside: fifteen more and you get lunch!" the studio minion said.
"No," Chris replied. "'Get lunch' implies some kind of reward system or, even more laughably, some kind of autonomy in getting this lunch, and the reality is --"
"You're chewing it up and spitting it into our mouths because we're too fucked out to lift sandwiches into our mouths," Zach finished.
"Wow, that's gross," the interviewer interrupted.
"Wow, your shoes are ugly," Zach snapped.
"He's sorry about that," the studio minion said quickly.
"Then he can apologize, can't he?" the interviewer said.
"I'm sorry your shoes are so fucking ugly they're literally like, tiny turquoise knives stabbing into my eyes," Zach said.
"I'm sorry," Chris interrupted. "Why does it always come down to clothes with you when you can't dress yourself like a non-blind-person?"
"You mean like a seeing person?" Zach laughed. "And -- uh -- oh God, I can't stop laughing, I think I'm hysterical."
"So I'm sorry, we're on a tight schedule," began the studio minion, "and this is going to have to count as part of your time, okay, so let's get started!"
"Like hell it is!" the interviewer replied. "They dick around and insult me and I'm penalized for it?"
"It's really not up to them," the studio minion replied. "And you've only lost about 90 seconds of your six minutes."
The interviewer turned to Zach and Chris and smiled in a strangely sadistic way that had the ability to put some fear into their cold, overworked, flat out dead hearts.
"Hi there, this is Keith from Innovation magazine, where science and pop culture…"
"They need a better tagline," Chris whispered. "Like. I don't know. Innovation: everything the title implies is wrong."
"Innovation: our readers will die virgins," Zach replied.
Chris laughed and added: "Innovation: like Scientific American, without all that shitty science stuff."
"Oh, that's just --"
"And," Keith interrupted, "I'm here with the two hipster faggots rebooting a pair of cultural touchstones: Trish something or other and… guy with the eyebrows who really doesn't have the right to criticize my footwear when he's probably worn worse to East Village drag shows."
Zach and Chris stare at him for a long moment and burst out laughing, but Keith still looks kind of annoyed. They get up and leave the couch, still laughing and ignoring the cries of the studio minion that travel down the hall. A soda and a blowjob in the bathroom should only take about 15 minutes, tops.
*
They're at a premiere for something -- maybe they're in the States since the questions people keep shouting at them make a little more sense than the gibberish they've heard for the past nine thousand years on the press tour.
"So have you seen the movie yet?" someone shouted at Chris. "Think it's good? How's it rank with other Star Trek movies?"
Chris tilted his head and yelled across the five feet of howling noise separating him and Zach, "Hey! You told me we were going to see Star Wars!"
"What?" Zach asked. "There hasn't been a new one for like, five or six years! I told you we were seeing Indiana Jones!"
"Did they get River Phoenix back for that shit?" Chris asked. "I loved that kid. He made me feel things."
"Honey, River's dead," Zach replied sadly. "I thought you should know before you tried to invite him to the gym or something."
"Man, that sucks," Chris said, and he looked back to the people shouting at him and taking his photo. "Wait, where were we?"
The interviewer was weaseling her way to Karl and Chris grinned while giving the cameras his poutiest lips and pretending he couldn't hear their questions.
*
Clearly, in a past life, Chris and Zach had done something terrible to some puppies or babies, because there was no other reason for why their chosen professions wanted them to be so, so miserable.
Like the invention of a media breakfast, where the highest bidders got to sit at a table with Chris and Zach and ask them questions throughout their fucking meal (their last goddamn sit-down meal until like, six o'clock, why why why were they doing this to them).
"I've decided that I'm not living with anyone until I'm engaged or flat out married," Chris announced as he sat down next to Zach.
"Take off your sunglasses, shithead," Zach replied. "And pass me the syrup."
"This is going straight to your ass," Chris warned as he held it up for Zach. "I'm holding it here, and I want you to weigh the magnitude because I'm not running an extra three miles so you can --"
"Shut up," Zach said as he grabbed the syrup and drowned his French toast. "What brought on that bullshit about --"
"Make nice for these people," the studio minion said as he walked by and put his hands on their shoulders.
"Bite me," Zach said under his breath.
"Make you into a fucking Halloween costume," Chris grumbled. "Fucking skin him and -- oh, right, living together."
"Is this because you slept over for the fifth night in a row?" Zach asked. "I know it's not legal yet, but if this is a roundabout way -- look, basically --"
"It's too early, it's too early," Chris moaned into his coffee. "What is this fucking sludge?"
"Yes, it's literally sludge made from our fucking -- lovem--"
"Don't you dare use that word," Chris warned. "I will eat your eyes. You think I'm kidding? I will eat your eyes."
"How Hitchcock of you, I love it," Zach said. "Did you -- wait, my point bouncing off your point --"
"Swordfighting?"
"Oh my God, shut up, look, I'm just trying to say that you should marry me, you know, when you have a free minute," Zach said. "Maybe during our bathroom break this morning, or oh! Clubbing tonight, maybe we can do it there."
"You're so needy," Chris sighed. "Hey, so, uh, do you guys want to do questions? Or something?"
"You can't deny our love forever," Zach said to Chris.
"Ten minutes without your love thrusting itself down my throat! It's not much to ask for!"
"Wow, that was dirty," Zach laughed. He looked to the reporters around them and beamed. "So, our breakfast is great! How about yours?"
"Watch me shove this whole sausage in my mouth at once," Chris announced.
"He has so many talents," Zach cooed. "And you'd be surprised at how many involve phallic objects in his mouth."
*
"So, if you weren't actors," the interviewer began. "What would you be doing?"
"Something sensible where I could still have bad skin and eat all the In & Out fries I want," Chris replied. "Like, I don't know. What the fuck was I good at in college?"
"Giving head," Zach said.
"Well, yeah, that's just like, a superpower of mine," Chris said. "I mean. I don't know. Maybe a writer? Or something? No, I think all roads go to being filthy rich and stupidly famous and having an amazing ass."
The interviewer had nothing to say and looked silently to Zach, who stared at Chris adoringly and then looked into the camera. "Princess of Monaco. Number one alternate career."
"You can still do that," Chris said. "Don't let anyone tell you that you can't have what you want."
"Actually," Zach said. "There's a 25-year-old son named Andréa --"
"You sure that's a he?"
"He has a wikipedia page," Zach explained as he dug out his iPhone. "Hold on, I have him saved somewhere."
"You really thought this through!" Chris marveled.
"He's legitimately hot and I think I would actually invite him into my pants if he wasn't always like, doing charitable shit in countries that make me sweat too much."
"Yeah, like, you do realize that you'd have to be --"
"And that's six minutes," the studio minion announced.
"-- arm candy and you'd have to go to all those places," Chris explained.
"Big difference from now, right?" Zach asked. "I'd get to be the goddamn Princess of Monaco, though."
"Well, no, I think you'd have to be like, Princess Consort of Monaco, since Andréa would be the Prince proper," Chris said.
"No, that's fucked up," Zach said. "Princess of Monaco or bust."
"Did you already buy all those scarves? You know, for your hair? Because of all the convertibles you'll drive through Monaco on the eternal summer day that will be the rest of your life, Grace Kelly?"
"And I sorted them according to the occasion," Zach said. "Hold on, I can pull up the spreadsheet."
The studio minion had to go find a Xanax to deal with their bullshit.
*
"And what are you guys going to do when you get back to the States?" someone on the red carpet asked. "Zach, is it back to Heroes for you? What can you tell us about Sylar this season?"
Zach and Chris looked at each other silently and didn't answer.
"I found some chocolate popcorn," Zach informed him.
"Where?" Chris asked as he looked over Zach's shoulder towards the end of the red carpet.
"Come on," he said, and grabbed Chris's forearm and led him away.
"By the way," Zach added as he stalked down the red carpet, "I'm dragging you into a bathroom to fuck your mouth into another franchise, and I don't jizz chocolate popcorn."
"You lied to me?" Chris asked. "How can we build a life together if you're just -- just -- lying all the time, Zach."
"You're the reason I'm eating myself into a 30-inch waist, you bastard," Zach snapped.
"I'm telling you, an all-semen diet really works!" Chris said. "With Lamill to -- okay I think you dislocated my wrist."
*
"Heroes tomorrow," Zach groaned as they floated along in a pool back in Silver Lake on the double-sized inflatable raft they shared.
"Shut up," Chris replied.
"Did you ever see KBell on Veronica Mars?" Zach asked. "Season one ended just like this -- bitch can act, like, I cried a little."
"Who was the bug-eyed girl who played her friend?" Chris asked. "The girl -- shit, what else is she in?"
"Amanda Seyfried, who -- hey, we should go see Mamma Mia while they're screening it in town. The musical was amazing on Broadway."
"Okay, you and me seeing Mamma Mia on a Sunday afternoon after getting back from a fifty-year world tour where we lived in each other's asses -- that facade of 'questionable heterosexuality' is going to be murdered by the fishnet leotard you keep in your closet as a memento of the Carnegie Mellon drag queen that took your butt virginity."
"I had to think about that for a minute, like, whether you completely made that up," Zach replied. "Anyway, Wynd was beautiful."
"You -- wait, what? You did not fuck someone --"
"Was fucked. Passive. So passive. Passive like a slutty defective verb that --"
"You did not let someone named Wynd --"
"With a Y. W-y-n-d."
"Oh my God," Chris moaned. "I can't even. Wynd was in your ass -- I just can't."
Chris rolled off the raft into the water, and made sure to hold on so that it would flip and dump Zach with him.
It did.
They came back to the surface, Zach flailing angrily and shaking his hair out.
"Goddammit, Chris!" he laughed.
"I was waiting for you to like, find me underwater so we could make out like in the Baz Romeo and Juliet," Chris said.
"Dude, how hot was that underwater kissing?" Zach asked. "Fuck the movie; let's do that instead."
"Already talked to Bob and Alex," Chris laughed. "Next movie will have ten thousand percent more underwater kissing."
"You're the best," Zach said as he heaved himself onto Chris, so Chris went from bobbing happily in the pool to being completely covered in Zach -- Zach's chest wet and pressed against his own, Zach's legs around his waist, Zach's arms around his neck, Zach's mouth on his mouth, Zach's tongue moving across Chris's lips and pushing its way inside his mouth, even Zach's eyelashes brushing against Chris's as he shut his eyes.
They sank together to the bottom and Chris really wondered if Mamma Mia could top this shit -- it had an all-star cast and feel-good music, but lacked Zach's tongue in his mouth.
They rose up to the surface again and gasped for air, Zach still latched on to Chris and pressing his forehead against Chris's.
"So, I'll see Mamma Mia, if you still want to," Chris said as he exhaled and chilled Zach's skin.
"Hold on, we have to kill some more brain cells with oxygen deprivation here," Zach gasped. "We'll get burgers and shakes, too."
"Best," Chris said as he sloppily kissed Zach's mouth, feeling Zach gearing up to shift his weight and sink them to the bottom again. "Just -- best."
Fandom: Star Trek RPF
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2K
Summary: Five unusable interviews from the press tour.
Notes: Saw this gif on tumblr this morning and got the sudden urge for some CLASSIC PINTO. And this happened. Pure fluffy banter nonsense. (AO3)
"Oh my God," Zach moaned as he leaned back against the couch he and Chris had been sitting in for three hours straight. "How many more?" he asked as the next minor television or print media personality came in and took the seat across from them.
"You're not gonna like it," the studio minion replied.
Zach and Chris looked at each other and then at the studio minion again, radiating as much pure despair as they could muster.
"Upside: fifteen more and you get lunch!" the studio minion said.
"No," Chris replied. "'Get lunch' implies some kind of reward system or, even more laughably, some kind of autonomy in getting this lunch, and the reality is --"
"You're chewing it up and spitting it into our mouths because we're too fucked out to lift sandwiches into our mouths," Zach finished.
"Wow, that's gross," the interviewer interrupted.
"Wow, your shoes are ugly," Zach snapped.
"He's sorry about that," the studio minion said quickly.
"Then he can apologize, can't he?" the interviewer said.
"I'm sorry your shoes are so fucking ugly they're literally like, tiny turquoise knives stabbing into my eyes," Zach said.
"I'm sorry," Chris interrupted. "Why does it always come down to clothes with you when you can't dress yourself like a non-blind-person?"
"You mean like a seeing person?" Zach laughed. "And -- uh -- oh God, I can't stop laughing, I think I'm hysterical."
"So I'm sorry, we're on a tight schedule," began the studio minion, "and this is going to have to count as part of your time, okay, so let's get started!"
"Like hell it is!" the interviewer replied. "They dick around and insult me and I'm penalized for it?"
"It's really not up to them," the studio minion replied. "And you've only lost about 90 seconds of your six minutes."
The interviewer turned to Zach and Chris and smiled in a strangely sadistic way that had the ability to put some fear into their cold, overworked, flat out dead hearts.
"Hi there, this is Keith from Innovation magazine, where science and pop culture…"
"They need a better tagline," Chris whispered. "Like. I don't know. Innovation: everything the title implies is wrong."
"Innovation: our readers will die virgins," Zach replied.
Chris laughed and added: "Innovation: like Scientific American, without all that shitty science stuff."
"Oh, that's just --"
"And," Keith interrupted, "I'm here with the two hipster faggots rebooting a pair of cultural touchstones: Trish something or other and… guy with the eyebrows who really doesn't have the right to criticize my footwear when he's probably worn worse to East Village drag shows."
Zach and Chris stare at him for a long moment and burst out laughing, but Keith still looks kind of annoyed. They get up and leave the couch, still laughing and ignoring the cries of the studio minion that travel down the hall. A soda and a blowjob in the bathroom should only take about 15 minutes, tops.
*
They're at a premiere for something -- maybe they're in the States since the questions people keep shouting at them make a little more sense than the gibberish they've heard for the past nine thousand years on the press tour.
"So have you seen the movie yet?" someone shouted at Chris. "Think it's good? How's it rank with other Star Trek movies?"
Chris tilted his head and yelled across the five feet of howling noise separating him and Zach, "Hey! You told me we were going to see Star Wars!"
"What?" Zach asked. "There hasn't been a new one for like, five or six years! I told you we were seeing Indiana Jones!"
"Did they get River Phoenix back for that shit?" Chris asked. "I loved that kid. He made me feel things."
"Honey, River's dead," Zach replied sadly. "I thought you should know before you tried to invite him to the gym or something."
"Man, that sucks," Chris said, and he looked back to the people shouting at him and taking his photo. "Wait, where were we?"
The interviewer was weaseling her way to Karl and Chris grinned while giving the cameras his poutiest lips and pretending he couldn't hear their questions.
*
Clearly, in a past life, Chris and Zach had done something terrible to some puppies or babies, because there was no other reason for why their chosen professions wanted them to be so, so miserable.
Like the invention of a media breakfast, where the highest bidders got to sit at a table with Chris and Zach and ask them questions throughout their fucking meal (their last goddamn sit-down meal until like, six o'clock, why why why were they doing this to them).
"I've decided that I'm not living with anyone until I'm engaged or flat out married," Chris announced as he sat down next to Zach.
"Take off your sunglasses, shithead," Zach replied. "And pass me the syrup."
"This is going straight to your ass," Chris warned as he held it up for Zach. "I'm holding it here, and I want you to weigh the magnitude because I'm not running an extra three miles so you can --"
"Shut up," Zach said as he grabbed the syrup and drowned his French toast. "What brought on that bullshit about --"
"Make nice for these people," the studio minion said as he walked by and put his hands on their shoulders.
"Bite me," Zach said under his breath.
"Make you into a fucking Halloween costume," Chris grumbled. "Fucking skin him and -- oh, right, living together."
"Is this because you slept over for the fifth night in a row?" Zach asked. "I know it's not legal yet, but if this is a roundabout way -- look, basically --"
"It's too early, it's too early," Chris moaned into his coffee. "What is this fucking sludge?"
"Yes, it's literally sludge made from our fucking -- lovem--"
"Don't you dare use that word," Chris warned. "I will eat your eyes. You think I'm kidding? I will eat your eyes."
"How Hitchcock of you, I love it," Zach said. "Did you -- wait, my point bouncing off your point --"
"Swordfighting?"
"Oh my God, shut up, look, I'm just trying to say that you should marry me, you know, when you have a free minute," Zach said. "Maybe during our bathroom break this morning, or oh! Clubbing tonight, maybe we can do it there."
"You're so needy," Chris sighed. "Hey, so, uh, do you guys want to do questions? Or something?"
"You can't deny our love forever," Zach said to Chris.
"Ten minutes without your love thrusting itself down my throat! It's not much to ask for!"
"Wow, that was dirty," Zach laughed. He looked to the reporters around them and beamed. "So, our breakfast is great! How about yours?"
"Watch me shove this whole sausage in my mouth at once," Chris announced.
"He has so many talents," Zach cooed. "And you'd be surprised at how many involve phallic objects in his mouth."
*
"So, if you weren't actors," the interviewer began. "What would you be doing?"
"Something sensible where I could still have bad skin and eat all the In & Out fries I want," Chris replied. "Like, I don't know. What the fuck was I good at in college?"
"Giving head," Zach said.
"Well, yeah, that's just like, a superpower of mine," Chris said. "I mean. I don't know. Maybe a writer? Or something? No, I think all roads go to being filthy rich and stupidly famous and having an amazing ass."
The interviewer had nothing to say and looked silently to Zach, who stared at Chris adoringly and then looked into the camera. "Princess of Monaco. Number one alternate career."
"You can still do that," Chris said. "Don't let anyone tell you that you can't have what you want."
"Actually," Zach said. "There's a 25-year-old son named Andréa --"
"You sure that's a he?"
"He has a wikipedia page," Zach explained as he dug out his iPhone. "Hold on, I have him saved somewhere."
"You really thought this through!" Chris marveled.
"He's legitimately hot and I think I would actually invite him into my pants if he wasn't always like, doing charitable shit in countries that make me sweat too much."
"Yeah, like, you do realize that you'd have to be --"
"And that's six minutes," the studio minion announced.
"-- arm candy and you'd have to go to all those places," Chris explained.
"Big difference from now, right?" Zach asked. "I'd get to be the goddamn Princess of Monaco, though."
"Well, no, I think you'd have to be like, Princess Consort of Monaco, since Andréa would be the Prince proper," Chris said.
"No, that's fucked up," Zach said. "Princess of Monaco or bust."
"Did you already buy all those scarves? You know, for your hair? Because of all the convertibles you'll drive through Monaco on the eternal summer day that will be the rest of your life, Grace Kelly?"
"And I sorted them according to the occasion," Zach said. "Hold on, I can pull up the spreadsheet."
The studio minion had to go find a Xanax to deal with their bullshit.
*
"And what are you guys going to do when you get back to the States?" someone on the red carpet asked. "Zach, is it back to Heroes for you? What can you tell us about Sylar this season?"
Zach and Chris looked at each other silently and didn't answer.
"I found some chocolate popcorn," Zach informed him.
"Where?" Chris asked as he looked over Zach's shoulder towards the end of the red carpet.
"Come on," he said, and grabbed Chris's forearm and led him away.
"By the way," Zach added as he stalked down the red carpet, "I'm dragging you into a bathroom to fuck your mouth into another franchise, and I don't jizz chocolate popcorn."
"You lied to me?" Chris asked. "How can we build a life together if you're just -- just -- lying all the time, Zach."
"You're the reason I'm eating myself into a 30-inch waist, you bastard," Zach snapped.
"I'm telling you, an all-semen diet really works!" Chris said. "With Lamill to -- okay I think you dislocated my wrist."
*
"Heroes tomorrow," Zach groaned as they floated along in a pool back in Silver Lake on the double-sized inflatable raft they shared.
"Shut up," Chris replied.
"Did you ever see KBell on Veronica Mars?" Zach asked. "Season one ended just like this -- bitch can act, like, I cried a little."
"Who was the bug-eyed girl who played her friend?" Chris asked. "The girl -- shit, what else is she in?"
"Amanda Seyfried, who -- hey, we should go see Mamma Mia while they're screening it in town. The musical was amazing on Broadway."
"Okay, you and me seeing Mamma Mia on a Sunday afternoon after getting back from a fifty-year world tour where we lived in each other's asses -- that facade of 'questionable heterosexuality' is going to be murdered by the fishnet leotard you keep in your closet as a memento of the Carnegie Mellon drag queen that took your butt virginity."
"I had to think about that for a minute, like, whether you completely made that up," Zach replied. "Anyway, Wynd was beautiful."
"You -- wait, what? You did not fuck someone --"
"Was fucked. Passive. So passive. Passive like a slutty defective verb that --"
"You did not let someone named Wynd --"
"With a Y. W-y-n-d."
"Oh my God," Chris moaned. "I can't even. Wynd was in your ass -- I just can't."
Chris rolled off the raft into the water, and made sure to hold on so that it would flip and dump Zach with him.
It did.
They came back to the surface, Zach flailing angrily and shaking his hair out.
"Goddammit, Chris!" he laughed.
"I was waiting for you to like, find me underwater so we could make out like in the Baz Romeo and Juliet," Chris said.
"Dude, how hot was that underwater kissing?" Zach asked. "Fuck the movie; let's do that instead."
"Already talked to Bob and Alex," Chris laughed. "Next movie will have ten thousand percent more underwater kissing."
"You're the best," Zach said as he heaved himself onto Chris, so Chris went from bobbing happily in the pool to being completely covered in Zach -- Zach's chest wet and pressed against his own, Zach's legs around his waist, Zach's arms around his neck, Zach's mouth on his mouth, Zach's tongue moving across Chris's lips and pushing its way inside his mouth, even Zach's eyelashes brushing against Chris's as he shut his eyes.
They sank together to the bottom and Chris really wondered if Mamma Mia could top this shit -- it had an all-star cast and feel-good music, but lacked Zach's tongue in his mouth.
They rose up to the surface again and gasped for air, Zach still latched on to Chris and pressing his forehead against Chris's.
"So, I'll see Mamma Mia, if you still want to," Chris said as he exhaled and chilled Zach's skin.
"Hold on, we have to kill some more brain cells with oxygen deprivation here," Zach gasped. "We'll get burgers and shakes, too."
"Best," Chris said as he sloppily kissed Zach's mouth, feeling Zach gearing up to shift his weight and sink them to the bottom again. "Just -- best."