(It occurred to me that one year after Our Thing would be pretty much... now!)
“Zach, what time zone am I in? I’m not even sure anymore.”
“Hopefully, you’re back in LA, in which case it is… 7:32 pm. You might want to double check – does the air smell more pretentious there?”
“Who even came up with time zones? Fucking ri—” Chris had to stop speaking to yawn, long and loud. “—ridiculous, is what it is.”
“Have you gotten your bag yet?”
“Nope. Still waiting at the conveyor belt thingy. I swear I’ve seen this one avocado green suitcase go around fifty times. Maybe the owner’s embarrassed to claim it.”
“Yet another reason why you should—”
“Take carry-on luggage only. Thanks, mom.”
“Forgive me for trying to save you twenty minutes of your life.”
“And have the TSA guys open up my bag and inspect my vibrating cock ring? No, thank you.”
“You didn’t have to bring that with you.”
“If you had one, I wouldn’t have to.”
Zach was silent for a moment, and if Chris had had the energy, he would’ve engaged in a celebratory fist pump for his superior logic. When Zach spoke again, he sounded tired, too. “This is so much harder than I thought it would be.”
Chris bit back on a that’s what she said retort – Zach didn’t sound like he was in the mood for it. “Shakes up the routine, though,” Chris said, trying to keep his tone light. “Keeps things fresh. That hotel room was a good idea. Felt like old times, didn’t it?”
Zach laughed softly. “Yeah, it did. Well, except you begging me to stick my cock in you. I don’t remember that from the tour.”
“What can I say? My tastes have grown much more… sophisticated? Yes, sophisticated.” They both chuckled a little, then the line went silent again. Eventually, Chris said, “It’s not forever. I mean, even if you stay out there, you’ll have to come back sometimes. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”
“When did you turn into an optimist on me?”
“Oh, please. I’ve always been the optimistic one. Compared to you, at least.”
“What am I, Oscar the Grouch?”
Chris burst out laughing, startling the elderly couple next to him. “The day you sit in an old trash can is the day I chug a wheatgrass smoothie and do the Congress of the Cow or whatever.”
“That’s the Kama Sutra, not yoga, and we’ve done that at least twice a week since we started fucking.”
“Oh. What is it?”
“Doggy-style.”
“Ah. Redacted, then. Consider my cow enthusiastically in Congress. Or something.”
Zach laughed for a long time. “Goddamnit, Chris, I miss you. And fuck it all, I swore I wasn’t going to say that for at least another two weeks.”
Chris smiled. “Well, you know you’re going to have to visit me soon.”
“Why?”
“Unstoppable. Probably going to be doing loads of interviews before the premiere. Unless, of course, you’d rather me ask Denzel if—”
“Do not ask Denzel anything.”
“Well then, you’ll just have to get your skinny little ass back to LA.”
“Guess I will,” Zach said, and Chris could practically hear his smile. “Shit, I’ve got to go. Gotta get ready for this thing tonight. Get some sleep tonight, okay?”
“I will.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Chris said quietly, unable to wipe the grin from his face.
He’d just stowed his phone back in his pocket when a baggage attendant came up to him. “Excuse me, are you Chris Pine?”
Chris tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, I am, but I’m really not—”
“Sir, your checked luggage seems to have suffered some… damage on your flight from New York.”
“Damage?”
“Yes, sir. Apparently it was left beside the tire of one of our motorized baggage carts, and when the operator started it up…”
Our Thing, one year later, PG-13
“Zach, what time zone am I in? I’m not even sure anymore.”
“Hopefully, you’re back in LA, in which case it is… 7:32 pm. You might want to double check – does the air smell more pretentious there?”
“Who even came up with time zones? Fucking ri—” Chris had to stop speaking to yawn, long and loud. “—ridiculous, is what it is.”
“Have you gotten your bag yet?”
“Nope. Still waiting at the conveyor belt thingy. I swear I’ve seen this one avocado green suitcase go around fifty times. Maybe the owner’s embarrassed to claim it.”
“Yet another reason why you should—”
“Take carry-on luggage only. Thanks, mom.”
“Forgive me for trying to save you twenty minutes of your life.”
“And have the TSA guys open up my bag and inspect my vibrating cock ring? No, thank you.”
“You didn’t have to bring that with you.”
“If you had one, I wouldn’t have to.”
Zach was silent for a moment, and if Chris had had the energy, he would’ve engaged in a celebratory fist pump for his superior logic. When Zach spoke again, he sounded tired, too. “This is so much harder than I thought it would be.”
Chris bit back on a that’s what she said retort – Zach didn’t sound like he was in the mood for it. “Shakes up the routine, though,” Chris said, trying to keep his tone light. “Keeps things fresh. That hotel room was a good idea. Felt like old times, didn’t it?”
Zach laughed softly. “Yeah, it did. Well, except you begging me to stick my cock in you. I don’t remember that from the tour.”
“What can I say? My tastes have grown much more… sophisticated? Yes, sophisticated.” They both chuckled a little, then the line went silent again. Eventually, Chris said, “It’s not forever. I mean, even if you stay out there, you’ll have to come back sometimes. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”
“When did you turn into an optimist on me?”
“Oh, please. I’ve always been the optimistic one. Compared to you, at least.”
“What am I, Oscar the Grouch?”
Chris burst out laughing, startling the elderly couple next to him. “The day you sit in an old trash can is the day I chug a wheatgrass smoothie and do the Congress of the Cow or whatever.”
“That’s the Kama Sutra, not yoga, and we’ve done that at least twice a week since we started fucking.”
“Oh. What is it?”
“Doggy-style.”
“Ah. Redacted, then. Consider my cow enthusiastically in Congress. Or something.”
Zach laughed for a long time. “Goddamnit, Chris, I miss you. And fuck it all, I swore I wasn’t going to say that for at least another two weeks.”
Chris smiled. “Well, you know you’re going to have to visit me soon.”
“Why?”
“Unstoppable. Probably going to be doing loads of interviews before the premiere. Unless, of course, you’d rather me ask Denzel if—”
“Do not ask Denzel anything.”
“Well then, you’ll just have to get your skinny little ass back to LA.”
“Guess I will,” Zach said, and Chris could practically hear his smile. “Shit, I’ve got to go. Gotta get ready for this thing tonight. Get some sleep tonight, okay?”
“I will.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Chris said quietly, unable to wipe the grin from his face.
He’d just stowed his phone back in his pocket when a baggage attendant came up to him. “Excuse me, are you Chris Pine?”
Chris tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, I am, but I’m really not—”
“Sir, your checked luggage seems to have suffered some… damage on your flight from New York.”
“Damage?”
“Yes, sir. Apparently it was left beside the tire of one of our motorized baggage carts, and when the operator started it up…”
Dammit, he was not telling Zach about this.