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the_deep_magicTitle: Somewhere That’s Green (or, Suddenly Christopher) 2/3
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: underage sexuality (both are 17), past Chris/Beau and Zach/Matt, um… dental roleplay?
Disclaimer: I don’t know these people; this is complete fiction. All lyrics and quotes from Little Shop of Horrors are courtesy of Howard Ashman
Summary: High school drama club AU
Part One
The movie had been a bust, in Zach’s opinion, anyway. It was entertaining enough, he supposed, but the cinematography was mediocre at best and the script was downright awful. But John and Zoe seemed to have loved it, so he kept his thoughts to himself. He’d been making an effort to do more of that lately.
Zach and Karl were the first to get their frozen yogurt, so they found a table near the corner with enough chairs for them all. “I’m surprised Chris agreed to come with us,” Zach said casually as he sat. Karl shot him a nasty look and Zach held up his hands defensively. “No, I mean, I’m fine with him coming. I’m glad he’s here. I just… thought he’d have other things to do on a Friday night.”
“Uh huh,” Karl said, still watching Zach.
“C’mon, man, I’ve been nice to him. You’ve seen it.”
“I’ve seen you two snarking at each other between scenes.”
“But it’s fun-snarky, not mean-snarky. It’s how we communicate. I’m actually starting to warm up to the guy. Ask him!”
“Maybe I will,” Karl announced, swiveling in his seat as Chris walked up to the table. “So Chris, has Zach stopped being a dick to you?”
Chris glanced nervously at Zach for a second, but said “He’s quit putting scorpions down the back of my shirt, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Zach dropped his jaw in faux shock. “Uh, they were de-stingified scorpions, and I totally don’t get what the big deal is.”
Luckily, Chris played along. “They still bite, dickweed!”
“Not with any venom! Toughen up a little, you pus—dammit, Zoe, that hurts!” Zach yelped, clapping a hand over his ear where Zoe had flicked it.
John laughed, the bastard. “Aw, c’mon Zoe. That might’ve been the one and only time we’ll hear Zach talk about pussy.”
Zach’s eyes quickly darted to Chris, but he appeared to be happily shoveling green apple yogurt and butterscotch chips into his mouth. And Zoe had kicked John under the table and moved on. “John, you wouldn’t have even said that word if Rachel were here.”
Karl laughed around a mouthful of chocolate sauce and gummie bears. “C’mon, mate, you don’t still think you have a chance with her?”
“You’ll see,” John said, narrowing his eyes and pointing his spoon threateningly at each of them in turn. “One day she’ll say yes, and you will all have to eat your thorny, bitter words, and I will watch you choke on them, and I will laugh.”
“Anyway,” Zoe said with an eye roll. “So, Chris, did you like the movie?”
Chris shrugged. “It was okay.”
“It’s alright,” said Karl, “Zach didn’t like it either.”
Zach turned on him. “Hey, did I say—?”
“You didn’t have to. You were rolling your eyes and sighing after every line!”
“Eh, the dialogue was pretty bad,” Chris cut in. “Sometimes I wonder if those writers have ever actually heard real people speak to each other.”
Zach dropped his spoon in the cup, his yogurt temporarily forgotten. “I know, right? I mean, I get that it’s an action movie and all, but how many people have to read and hear that dialogue by the time that gets to the editing room? And no one says ‘Wait, hold up, nobody needs to have “RUN RUN RUN” screamed at them when they’re already running?’”
“Nothing’s as bad as the Star Wars prequels, though,” Chris said, shaking his head gravely.
“Oh Anakin,” Zach began, and Chris chimed in for the end of the line. “Hold me like you did by the lake on Naboo!”
“This is embarrassing,” John said, shrinking down in his chair but taking his cup of yogurt with him. “You are embarrassing me.”
“The American film industry is embarrassing you, man,” sighed Zach.
“Hey, isn’t that where you want to work?” Chris asked innocently.
Karl clamped a hand over Zach’s mouth before he could answer. “Zachary here is a purist, committed entirely to the the-ah-tah.”
Zach gave Karl’s palm a good long lick, forcing him to draw back in disgust. “I was going to say,” he began defensively, “yes, my first love is the theatre, but I wouldn’t mind doing movies, too. I’d like to form my own production company someday.”
People usually laughed when Zach mentioned it (“people” largely being “Karl”), but Chris just nodded and said, “Cool.”
Zach contained the grin that threatened to spread across his face by mentally admitting the fact that Chris Pine was now officially off his Shit List.
&&&
The next rehearsal began by Mr. Abrams ushering a small, curly-haired kid into the auditorium. The kid looked like he was about to wet himself with terror, and Chris had a horrible moment where he wondered if that’s what he’d looked like the day of their first read-through.
Mr. Abrams called Zach over. “Zach, this is Anton. He’s a freshman, and he’s volunteered to run lights and sound for us.”
As Zach shook Anton’s hand, Chris moved closer. He was a little curious about the technical aspects of theatre and a lot curious about how Zach was going to treat another newcomer.
“I want to work with the chorus girls today,” Mr. Abrams was saying, “so I’d like you to show Anton our technical equipment.”
Zach’s eyebrows shot up. “Now? Is it set up?”
“Yep. Hop to it.”
Zach chuckled. “Alright, come on, Anton. It’s a very sophisticated system we have, but with a few weeks’ practice, you should be able to master it.”
Chris followed them to the back of the auditorium, trying to look casual. When Zach turned back around to face Anton and saw Chris standing behind him, he quirked an eyebrow at Chris, but didn’t comment. Zach pointed to a switch on the wall. “Okay, here we have our state-of-the-art lighting system. It functions in two main modes: ‘on’ and… you might want to write this down, Anton… ‘off.’ We’re hoping to invest in a dimmer switch when the price of the technology finally comes down.”
Anton’s mouth hung open. “I… what?”
“He’s messing with you,” Chris said, staring Zach down.
Zach stared back for a few moments, but then his face broke into a grin and he looked back at Anton. “I totally am. But not by much. We have separate controls for house lights and stage lights, but that’s about it.” He led them over to the folding table set up at the back of the room, upon which sat an ancient-looking mixing board. “Okay, we do have a few more options when it comes to sound…”
As Zach led Anton through the various switches on the soundboard, Chris tried to listen, but most things were labeled or somewhat self-explanatory anyway. He ended up mostly just observing Zach’s interaction with Anton, the way he patiently explained everything, then smiled when the younger boy finally got up the nerve to ask a question.
So maybe that’s how it would be if I hadn’t introduced myself to him by taking his part, Chris thought. It was a bit pointless to imagine, but Chris wished he’d gotten off to a better start with Zach. He obviously knew his way around the theatre, and he could be a really nice guy when he wanted to be. Despite rolling their eyes at his ego, Zach’s friends seemed to genuinely like spending time with him, outside rehearsal even. And more and more, so did Chris.
“I don’t know if Mr. Abrams is planning on giving Karl one of the lapel mikes or what,” Zach was saying when Chris finally started to tune back in. “That’s something you’ll need to ask him.”
“What, like, now?” Anton asked, his eyes wide.
Zach chuckled and glanced over at the stage, where Zoe was leading Rachel, Jen, and Winona through some basic choreography. “No, not now. Why don’t you hang out for a while and watch them rehearse? And stop being so nervous – you’ve got weeks to figure this all out, and none of us actually bite.”
Anton nodded and scampered back down the aisle to find a seat, and Chris turned back to Zach. “So all I have to do to get you to be nice to me is act like a terrified little puppy?”
Zach regarded him for a moment. “Couldn’t hurt. Let’s see it.”
Chris turned his feet pigeon-toed and hunched until he seemed to shrink down a few inches, wringing his hands and pitching his voice up an octave. “M-m-mr. Quinto, sir? C-could you please, please teach me how to act? You’re ever so good at it.”
Zach laughed aloud, looking a little surprised that he’d done it. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting the full-on Dickensian wretch. Nice job.”
Straightening up, Chris grinned. “Did I overdo it?”
“Oh, no. You could even stand to throw some more groveling in there. You can never have too much groveling.”
“Oh my god, how do you even fit your ego through the doorway?” Chris groaned.
“I have to use the double doors,” Zach quipped, clasping his hands behind his back to stretch his shoulders. His shirt pulled tight over his chest and Chris was surprised to see that despite his thinness, Zach wasn’t all skin and bones – he appeared to have some muscle on him. Chris was even more surprised that he’d noticed, but fortunately, Zach didn’t appear to have caught him staring.
&&&
Home Depot had the hinges that Simon and Karl were looking for to build Audrey II’s working mouth, but not the lightweight plastic tubing for her vines and roots, so Chris and Zach were headed to Lowe’s to look for it. Neither one complained that it was across town.
After a few moments of lull in the conversation, Zach couldn’t resist. “So why’d you really quit the baseball team?”
Chris sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Is it that important?”
“I guess not,” Zach said. “But I’m curious.”
Chris was silent for a long time, staring hard out the window as if trying to work up the courage to speak. “So, you know the Punch-Buggy-No-Punch-Back thing?”
Zach was startled into laughing. “Uh, yeah, I have an older brother.”
“Well, we did that on the bus to away games. But not just punch buggies – the guys expanded it to other cars. You had to fart if you saw a Ford Fiesta, and then there was, uh… PT Cruiser Nut Crunch. Which is pretty much just what it sounds like.”
He went quiet like that was supposed to mean something. “Okay, you’ve lost me,” Zach said.
“Well, there are a lot of PT Cruisers on the road, right? So everybody’s balls are getting grabbed all over the place. And that’s, you know, whatever. Sounds really stupid when you try to describe it, but kinda fun when everybody’s goofing around.”
“And so you’re… shy about your testicles?”
“What?” Chris’ face flushed darkly. “No, it’s not just that. There’s the usual ass-slapping, like a ‘good job’ kind of thing. And some of the guys actually do compare dicks in the locker room. It’s… well, I’ve never actually seen a gay porno, but I can’t imagine it’s too far off.”
Chris looked frustrated, on the verge of angry, and Zach’s heart sank in his chest. Fuck, he’d been starting to think that Chris was a pretty good guy, that he wasn’t just some dumb homophobic jock.
But then Chris continued, “So that’s just normal, right? Nobody questions it. But this one sophomore, some rumor started going around that he’d gotten drunk and kissed another guy at a party, and it got brutal. They wouldn’t even call him by his name, just ‘faggot’ and ‘cocksucker’ all the time. Somebody plastered his locker with pictures – some real nasty shit, animals and stuff. The guy got really defensive at first, but that just made it worse, so finally he had to play along and pretend like he thought it was funny. The coach sort of stepped in, but everyone was all ‘Oh, we’re just kidding, it’s just a joke,’ and so he backed off.”
Chris shook his head in disgust. “It was… god. Like, I’m not the nicest person ever, I know. I’ve said some nasty stuff without thinking about what it really meant. But to do that to someone? Which is bad enough as it is, but all the while grabbing each other’s junk? How fucking ignorant do you have to be? But god help anyone who actually says that. And I can’t believe I’m telling you all of this.”
By the time Chris finished, his hands were balled up into fists and his breath was huffing out in angry gusts. It was obviously a subject he took very personally, and before Zach could think better of it, he asked, “It’s none of my business and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but are you…?”
“No,” Chris said quickly. “But if I were…”
“Yeah,” Zach said, feeling his stomach drop. Not like he thought Chris actually was. Not really. It would be too perfect, too easy. That kind of thing didn’t happen to Zach.
“So, yeah. I mean, not all the guys were like that. My friend Eric, he refused to take part in it, even though he’s not, like, the most enlightened guy ever. But he didn’t try to stop it, either. I was too much of a coward to do anything about it, but it was disgusting and I just couldn’t be around that anymore.”
“So, what, you thought you’d go polar opposite? Find a place where the gays are revered as gods?” Zach asked, managing to crack a smile.
“I guess,” Chris said through a soft laugh. “Plus, my parents have always been… I guess pushing isn’t quite the right word. They never made me do anything I didn’t want to do. But they’re both actors – well, my mom used to be – and they’re forever telling me that I’d just be, like, the best actor ever.”
“They’re both actors?” Zach asked, his jaw dropping.
“Yeah.”
“Anything I’d know?”
“Um, TV stuff mostly. Do you know the show CHiPS?”
“I’ve heard of it. My mom watches reruns of it sometimes.”
“Yeah, well,” Chris mumbled, blushing even harder than he had before. “My dad was on that. For a couple of years. But mostly now it’s just occasional guest spots in things.”
“Chris!” Zach gasped, letting go of the wheel with his right hand to grab Chris by the shoulder. It seemed to startle him, but Zach couldn’t find it in him to care. “That is. So cool. How awesome is it to have actors as parents?”
“Uh, it’s okay, I guess. I mean, we’re not, like, rich or anything. Could you maybe watch the road?”
“But just being in that world, getting to go on the set of a show. Did you ever do that?”
“Sometimes,” Chris said, starting to squirm a little but with the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips. “When I was a kid. I don’t remember the CHiPS set, though. I was too young.”
Zach was legitimately worried that he might squeal. “Do they just sit you down and tell you all kind of acting secrets?”
“Uh, no? I’ve actually been trying to keep them off my case about this whole thing. My dad keeps getting all wistful about me going into the family business. It’s kind of embarrassing.”
Zach tried to keep from looking scandalized. How could Chris not realize how awesome this was? “Well, still. Do you think I could talk to them sometime? I’ll be cool about it, I swear, I won’t ask for an autograph or anything stupid like that. I just want to talk to someone who’s actually been in the business. Did they start out doing theatre?”
“I think so. I mean, I know my mom was pretty big into drama club in high school. My dad didn’t get into acting until college.”
“No wonder you’re so—” Zach started, barely catching himself in time. “I mean, no wonder you decided to do theatre. How come you never mentioned this before? Oh my god, if my mom was an actor, I would totally tell everybody. You wouldn’t be able to shut me up about it.”
Chris grimaced. “When I was little, other kids in my class, kids I barely knew, would come over to play. They would come over maybe once or twice, then never again. I didn’t realize it for a long time, but it was because their parents just wanted to meet mine – usually my dad. It’s not like we’re celebrities or anything, but things change once people learn who my parents are.”
“Oh,” said Zach, crestfallen. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s okay. Most people only care because they’re sort of famous. You care because they do what you want to do.” A slow smile spread across Chris’ face. “Besides, I’d imagine that this isn’t going to keep you from being a dick to me.”
With an internal sigh, Zach grinned. “Not at all. In fact, I might be more of a dick just to compensate for all those people that were fake-nice to you.”
“Just what I need.” Chris finally seemed to relax, leaning back against the wall and stretching his legs out. “Hey, what were you going to say earlier?”
“What?”
“You know, you said, ‘no wonder you’re so…’ Talented? Hot?”
It was going to be the first one, but the second wasn’t any less true. Zach didn’t let his smile falter. “Humble. I was going to say ‘humble,’ but I guess you’ve shot that all to hell. Now whose ego won’t fit through the door?”
&&&
“It’s not a real dentist’s chair, obviously,” Simon said. “Those things weigh an effin’ ton. But it’s a pretty good replica, right?”
The smile on Zach’s face was just shy of terrifying. “Simon, it’s perfect.”
“Uh, how sturdy is it?” Chris asked, trying and failing to keep the anxiety out of his voice. “The way the scene’s blocked, it has to hold both of us.”
“Oh, she’ll hold alright,” Simon said, looking inordinately proud.
Even Mr. Abrams looked impressed. “Simon, where did you even… You know what? No. I’m not even going to ask. As long as you didn’t steal it.” He paused, the smile dropping from his face. “Simon, you didn’t steal it...”
“No! Found! I found it!” Simon exclaimed, his eyes going wide and puppyish. “This friend of mine, Nick, he likes to go looking for—”
“Okay!” Mr. Abrams said brightly, clapping his hands with finality. “Excellent! We can finally run this scene properly. Chris, let’s take it from your entrance.”
Chris nodded and breathed deeply. This was one of two scenes he shared with Zach as Orin – just the two of them on stage. It still varied pretty wildly depending on how Zach was feeling at the time; Chris admired him for trying new things with it, seeing what worked, but he was never sure how Zach would play it on any given day. That was probably just how Zach wanted it.
When everything was set up and ready to go, Chris stumbled on from stage right. Zach swung immediately around to look at him, a terrifying dental torture instrument in his hand, his face darkly menacing. “Would you like it if I took this and made straight for your goddamn incisors?”
“We’re going with ‘damn incisors,’ Zach,” Mr. Abrams interrupted.
“Right, sorry,” Zach said quickly before getting back into character and rapidly advancing on Chris. “It’d hurt, right? You’d scream?”
Okay, so it’s less Steve Martin today and more Dennis Hopper, Chris thought. Fuck. He opened his mouth as if to stammer, but Zach grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him toward the chair.
“Get your ass in here.” Zach said, then paused to stare into Chris’ eyes. Chris didn’t have to fake the way he shrank down under that glare. “Don’t I know you?
“S-Seymour Krelborn,” he stuttered. “We met yesterday.”
Zach usually waited until the middle of his next line to throw Chris down into the chair, but he caught Chris completely off guard and did it before he began speaking. Luckily, the chair had some cushion to it – actually more comfortable than the metal folding chairs they’d been using – but it also forced Chris to lie back nearly flat. That made it much easier for Zach to grab him by the jaw and wrench his mouth open. He leaned down so close that Chris could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Your mouth’s a mess, kid. That wisdom tooth. We’ll rip that bugger right out of there. What do you say?”
Chris could only breath again once Zach had pulled away to grab a prop off the tray of tools behind him. The chair made an enormous difference – before, Chris had managed to get to his feet before Zach could swing back around with the drill, but now he struggled to even sit up. He realized what a horribly vulnerable position he was in and his heart began to slam in his chest.
Zach rounded on him, easily pushing him back down by the shoulder. “There’s always time for dental hygiene.”
“What’s that?” Chris gasped, staring wide-eyed at the object in Zach’s left hand.
“The drill,” Zach said with an evil-looking smirk.
It was actually just a large electric toothbrush with the bristles sawn off, not yet painted to look sinister, but Zach was already wielding it like a weapon. “It’s rusty!”
“It’s an antique! They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.” Zach bounced the thing up and down like he was hefting its weight. “Sturdy. Heavy. Dull.” He rolled each word around in his mouth like he was getting off on them, and Chris felt the horrible lightheadedness that preceded the rush of his blood down to his crotch.
Suddenly Zach stopped, blinking for a second, and then grinned widely. “I’m gonna want some gas for this.”
“Thank god,” Chris sighed, actually grateful for the space between them when Zach crossed in front of him to pick up the tank at stage left. “I thought you wouldn’t use any.” Even though that space was about to disappear again.
Zach spun around, the grin still in place. “Oh, the gas isn’t for you, Seymour. It’s for me.” His voice had dropped to a near purr. “In fact, I’m going to use my special gas mask. I find a little giggle gas before I begin increases my pleasure enormously.”
Chris struggled to get his breathing under control as Zach stalked him down, every bit the predator teasing his kill. And fuck everything, Chris’ was starting to get hard under that sadistically playful stare. Zach was slinking toward him in a way that was downright sensual. He might as well have been licking his lips and stripping his shirt as he went, which was a visual that Chris did not need.
“Here we go!” Zach exclaimed, reaching back as though turning on the gas. They didn’t have the mask for him to wear yet, so he had to mime pulling it down over his nose and mouth. He tipped his head back and groaned with bliss. “Oh, Seymour, I’m flying!”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Chris knew the next line and he was so completely screwed. Zach was practically on top of him when he leaned down and growled “Ohhh, the things I’m gonna do to that mouth.”
Chris’ only saving grace was that he literally did have a gun in his pocket. That line was his cue to fumble for the prop, struggling lightly with Zach until he could pull it free. Which all worked fine in the folding chair when Chris was sitting up and didn’t have two solid armrests to contend with. In the dentist’s chair, Zach was able to pin his arms, making reaching for the gun much more difficult. And the more he struggled, the harder Zach held him down, managing to get a knee between Chris’ thigh and one of the arms for leverage.
As Chris thrashed and Zach bore down, their upper bodies were nearly touching, but fortunately for Chris, Zach’s lower half remained a safe distance away. His hard-on throbbed painfully with each gust of Zach’s breath against his face and neck, but as soon as he could get his hand around the gun and pull it out, he knew Zach would leap back and continue the scene. Chris wriggled his hand into his pocket, nearly groaning with relief as his fingers wrapped around the grip.
With a loud crack, the arm of the chair gave way, sending Zach sprawling atop Chris.
&&&
The second Mr. Abrams confirmed that neither of them had sustained any major injuries, Chris ran. He brushed right past Zoe and out the side exit of the auditorium.
“Zach, is he okay?” John asked.
“He’s…” Zach struggled for a word that wasn’t erect. “I think he’s just a little freaked out.”
“I should’ve stopped you earlier,” Mr. Abrams said, shaking his head. “That was too much, Zach. Even before the… chair.”
“I know,” Zach groaned, burying his face in his hands. He wanted to run, wanted some space to think without his friends all staring at him.
Mr. Abrams turned to Karl, who had been doing his math homework while he waited for one of his scenes. “Will you go see if Chris is okay?”
“No, wait, let me,” Zach blurted, halfway across the stage already.
“Uh, Zach, are you sure you should…” Mr. Abrams trailed off.
“Yes. Please, trust me on this.”
He suspected Chris hadn’t gotten far, and he was right. Chris was just turning the corner around the back of the theatre building when Zach burst outside. Zach considered calling out to him, but figured that would just make Chris run.
When Zach rounded the corner, he found Chris leaning against the building, his face pressed into his forearm. “Chris,” Zach said softly.
“No. No no, fuck no. Go away.”
“Please don’t freak out.”
“Go the fuck away. I’m not going back in there.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Zach said with a tenderness that surprised even him.
“Look, I know there’s no way you didn’t feel…” Chris pushed away from the wall but refused to look at Zach, rubbing his hands over his eyes instead. “Can we please just pretend that never happened?”
“Um, yeah, actually,” Zach said, and that finally got Chris to look at him. “It’s… it’s not that big a deal. It’s not the first, um. I know it didn’t mean anything. It doesn’t bother me.”
That only made Chris stare at him more incredulously. “It really doesn’t, does it?” he asked after a moment.
“I mean, not like I go rubbing up against other guys all the time, but, well, I think you know.”
“You’re so… not fucked up about it.”
Zach shrugged, trying not to squirm under Chris’ sharp stare. “It’s just who I am.”
“Does… do they know?” Chris asked, gesturing at the theatre where all Zach’s friends were still gathered.
“Zoe and Karl are the only ones I’ve actually told. But the others… I’m pretty sure they’ve guessed.”
“And your mom?”
Zach laughed bitterly. “Oh hell no. She keeps trying to set me up with Zoe. She’d keel over dead if she found out.”
“You’re so lucky,” Chris mumbled, then seemed to realize what he’d said and started backpedaling. “Not, uh, not for your mom. That sucks. But your friends, they don’t even care, and you’re… you seem cool with it.”
Zach ducked his head, fighting the stinging sensation in his throat. “Most of the time. Not, y’know, always. There are times when I think… When I wish I were different. Normal.”
“Me too,” Chris muttered softly into his hand, and Zach wasn’t sure if he’d heard right.
“Hey, one random boner doesn’t mean you’re…”
“It’s not, uh.” Chris slumped back against the wall. “It’s not really an isolated incident.”
Zach’s jaw dropped. “I— I mean, I know it’s not really any of my business, but I thought you said you weren’t—”
“I know,” Chris said, his eyes cast down at the ground. “I don’t really know what I am. Why do I keep telling you these things? I still like girls. But… not only girls, I guess.”
Despite the seriousness of the moment, the corner of Zach’s mouth twitched up. “That is an option, you know. It doesn’t have to be an either/or thing.”
“I guess,” Chris said, looking deeply unsure. “But that just seems… greedy.”
Zach couldn’t help it – he laughed. “Sorry! I’m sorry. I don’t find this funny, I really don’t. It’s just… you don’t have to decide today, you know?”
Chris suddenly seemed to remember where he was. “Oh shit. Is rehearsal still going on?”
“Probably. As long as nobody’s missing a limb, the show goes on.”
“Great,” Chris groaned.
“Hey, look on the bright side. Now you get to kill me and feed me to a carnivorous plant!”
“Well, there’s that.” Chris brightened for a moment, then a thought seemed to occur to him. “Do you, um, do you think anybody else noticed? That I was, uh—”
“Packing more than a gun?” Zach supplied, and Chris rolled his eyes. “No, I honestly don’t think so.”
Chris chewed at his bottom lip and Zach felt a wholly inappropriate blush threaten to spread up his neck. “Can you do me a favor and just… not mention this to anyone? Any of this?”
“Yeah, sure, of course.”
“Thanks. And can you do me one more favor?”
“Sure.”
“Can you dial back the fucking David Lynch next time? Jesus, Zach.”
“Um, yeah,” Zach muttered, proud of himself for not mentioning just how much Little Chris had actually seemed to like it. “May have gotten a little carried away there. Wait a minute, you know David Lynch?”
“Not personally,” Chris said, rolling his eyes. “But, yeah, my mom grounded me for two weeks when she caught me watching Mulholland Drive.”
“Was it worth it?”
“No. Still have no fucking clue what that movie was about. Other than lesbians. I was pretty clear on the lesbians.”
&&&
As he unlocked the door, Chris took a deep breath and prayed to whomever was listening that he wouldn’t regret this.
“Mom? Dad? I’m home. And, uh, Zach’s with me.”
He turned back to hold the door open for Zach, who was apparently waiting to be officially invited in. And also seemed to be very consciously trying not to bounce up and down on his toes. It wasn’t quite working. “Come on in, Zach,” he sighed.
Zach raised his chin and strode inside confidently, in the profoundly awkward manner of somebody who was telling himself to act casual. Chris saved his eye roll until he turned back to close the door behind them.
Chris’ mom was the first to arrive in the living room. “Zach, hello!” she said warmly, and okay, he apparently already rated a one-armed hug on the Mom Scale. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
Chris glared at her so hard his eyeballs nearly popped out of his head, but she just ignored him. “Can I get you anything to drink, sweetie?” she asked Zach.
“Uhh, no, ma’am. No thank you. I’ve had, like, eight Cokes today, so I’ve been peeing all day, but I’m fine.”
Wow, smooth. Zach had to be mentally facepalming over that one, but Chris just barely managed not to laugh.
“How was rehearsal?” his mom asked, leading them to sit on the sofa.
Chris opened his mouth to answer, but Zach cut in first. “Great! Things are going really well. Simon has pretty much finished building the Audrey II. I mean, it’s nothing like it was for that first off-Broadway run. Well, you know, the pictures I’ve seen. Or the movie, of course. Simon wanted something a little more sinister-looking. Anyway, the framework’s all built, but we – Chris and I, I mean, and the other cast – have been working on the vocals.”
He glanced back at Chris, who gave a thumbs up. “Yup. Singing.”
“Chris has really amazing projection. When he’s doing ‘Suddenly Seymour,’ I’m pretty sure you can hear him from the parking lot. I’m totally jealous. That’s one reason that I really want to work with a vocal coach at some point, because—”
At that point, Chris’ dad walked in and Zach apparently couldn’t be bothered to finish his sentence. “I’m guessing you’re Zach?” his dad said, fortunately only extending a hand.
Which Zach shook with reckless abandon. “That’s me. It’s so great to meet you! Both of you! Did I already say that?”
“Nope,” Chris said, but nobody spared him a glance.
“We hear you’re quite the actor,” his dad said, settling in on the loveseat.
For a few seconds, Chris was genuinely worried that Zach might explode. His face turned a dire shade of pink, but all that came out were words. So, so many words. “I don’t know about that. I mean, I’m trying to be. I’ve been doing theatre forever, but I’ve only really started to get into acting theory this year. And there’s just so much. I started with Stanislavsky, ‘cause that’s where naturalism in acting came from, right? But then I started getting into Meisner, which is supposed to be kind of an extension of the system, but I really don’t get where all that repetition business fits in. Because then it’s like, what about the script? I mean, I have to actually say the lines at some point. So I was just wondering what your process is like, how you get started. I mean, is it possible to overprepare?”
If Zach noticed Chris’ dad’s eyebrows climbing higher and higher, he certainly didn’t give any indication of it. When he finally finished speaking, Chris’ dad shifted a little on the loveseat, clearing his throat. “Well, uh, I think there were several questions in there.” Zach nodded eagerly. “But you asked about my process. I do think it’s possible to overprepare. The problem I find with some of these theories in their purest forms is that they become pretty solipsistic. Do you know what I mean by—?”
“Self-absorbed, right?” Zach said eagerly.
“Exactly. I think you’ve got to be careful of subscribing purely to one theory at the expense of all the others. You’ve got the benefit of being young, so you haven’t been indoctrinated – I know that’s a pretty strong word, but just bear with me here – into a single school of thought. It can actually isolate you from the people you work with. Now when I was starting out…”
Really, Chris had no idea why he’d been thinking this would be a total disaster. His dad loved to talk, and in Zach he had found his perfect audience. Zach was leaning so far forward on the couch he was a mere inch from falling off, and his dad had already started to talk with his hands. Obviously, Chris wasn’t needed. “Okay, I’m gonna go get a…” No one spared a glance when he stood. “A life,” he muttered, heading for the kitchen.
He’d just finished pouring himself some orange juice when his mom came in. “Well, Zach’s certainly passionate,” she said with a smile.
Chris groaned. “Shouldn’t you be out there helping him hone his craft?”
“Oh, he doesn’t want to hear from a psychologist who’s been out of showbiz for twenty years. Plus, between you and me, your father can talk enough for the both of us.”
“We’re going to be here all night, aren’t we?”
“Well, your dad’s eventually going to need food, and I’ll make sure he stops talking long enough to chew.” She peeked her head around into the living room, then back to Chris. “I think this is really good for him. Lord knows he loves a captive audience. I’m glad you brought Zach by.”
“I don’t think I could’ve stopped him,” Chris said into his juice, though it wasn’t strictly true. He’d had to reassure Zach several times over that he really was welcome at the Pine household and allowed to ask questions, within reason. Chris scraped at a spot on the countertop. “I’m sorry I’m not like that.”
“Like what?” his mom asked. “Like Zach?”
“Yeah. All crazy about acting and stuff.”
“Oh, sweetie,” she said, throwing an arm around him and standing on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the temple. Chris had to bend down a little; he’d been a head taller than her since the eighth grade. “We just hope you find something, anything you care that much about. If your dad and I and your grandmother were all plumbers, we’d probably be giving you a little nudge in the ribs whenever we saw a plunger. But we just want you to do something you love.”
“And something that actually pays,” Chris muttered.
“That would be helpful, yes.” She paused, picking up the bottle of orange juice where Chris had left it and putting it back into the fridge. “Oh, and I can see why you like Zach so much.”
“Whuh?” Chris gurgled through a mouthful of juice, nearly dropping his glass.
“Why you two have become such fast friends. I don’t know anyone else whose kids would know what the word ‘solipsistic’ means. Nor many adults, either.”
“Hnnn,” said Chris, reaching for a tissue to clear the pulp from his sinuses.
&&&
“Make sure you rest your voice as much as possible,” Mr. Abrams said as Chris shouldered his backpack. “Just a week to go, and you don’t want to put any unnecessary strain on your vocal chords.”
“Don’t worry, I quit the cheerleading team, too,” Chris said with a grin, glad that the director was a teacher he could joke around with.
“Excellent. And none of that caramel mocha latte nonsense. Tea and honey only.”
Chris clicked his heels and saluted Mr. Abrams, leaving rehearsal with a smile once again. It had gone a little later tonight, since they’d wanted to get all the way through Act Two, and Chris still had to walk to his car in the outer lot.
He’d nearly made it through the breezeway when he heard familiar laughter up ahead. Shit. Somehow he’d managed to avoid running into any former teammates, which had been nothing short of a miracle. In fact, Eric was the only one who had sought him out, so maybe it wasn’t just a happy accident. Chris had quit midseason, after all, which didn’t earn him a whole lot of respect.
But now there was no avoiding them. There were three of them. Cliff, the starting catcher, was shorter than Chris, but stockier. Built like a brick shithouse, he’d once heard an opposing player say. He certainly wasn’t what anybody wanted to see when they were trying to steal home base, and he was now blocking Chris’ path through the breezeway. Needless to say, they’d never been buddies. Two of his friends were leaned casually against the lockers, eyeing Chris as he walked up.
“Pine,” Cliff said. “Where you been?”
Chris just barely held back on the why don’t you ask your mom joke, instead merely saying, “Around.”
“Uh-huh,” Cliff said slowly, which was how he did most everything. “Got too good for your teammates, did you?”
Chris actually laughed; it was like the other guy was reading from a script, a Very Special Episode on bullying. He wasn’t really worried that Cliff would take a swing at him, but figured he had about three minutes before the word “faggot” came up. Maybe less, since Cliff didn’t seem terribly pleased about the laugh.
“You’ve gotten along fine without me. Eric says you guys beat the shit out of Edgewood last week.”
“Yeah, and you shoulda been with us. You’re on the drama team now?”
Drama team? Jesus, how had Chris put up with this kind of shit for two years? “Yup, drama team. We’re going to the thespian semi-finals soon.”
Predictably, one of the other guys – Eli, right field – sniggered at “thespian,” but it was Cliff who continued to speak. “Having fun with those drama queers? I hear they suck cock better than the dance team.”
Ah, so it was going to start with “queers.” Chris suddenly felt very tired. He’d been wary of this moment for two months, preparing all the things he wanted to say, all the deeply philosophical jabs that would have these guys questioning their motives, or would at least stun them into silence. But now that the moment was finally here, he just wanted it over with. Maybe it made him a coward, but Chris just didn’t want to deal with it. “Fuck off, Clifton,” he said without malice.
“Don’t tell me to fuck off,” he sneered, getting up into Chris’ space.
“HEY!” A shout echoed from down the hall behind Chris. He turned to look, and sweet baby Jesus, it was Zach. Six feet of angry, predatory Zach, channeling Orin Scrivello but much less menacing now that Chris was standing under the flickering fluorescent lights of the breezeway. Zach, Chris thought at him as hard as he could, please don’t say anything stupid.
“Hey,” he said again, slightly out of breath. “You wanna mess with someone, shithead? How ‘bout you come over here and mess with a real fag.”
Well, so much for telepathy.
Cliff took one look at Zach and burst out laughing. “Seriously? Pine, is he serious?”
“About you being a shithead? Probably.”
Luckily, Cliff seemed to think it was some sort of joke. He was an idiot, but as far as Chris knew, not a violent idiot. Still, though. This wasn’t going to end well, and Chris’ heart shot into his throat.
“Awww,” Cliff said, “I get to meet your boyfriend.”
“Oh, he’s not my type,” Zach drawled, forcing Chris to close his eyes in pain. “I like ‘em… brawnier. So, big boy, do you pitch or catch?”
Zach was obviously the luckiest motherfucker this side of Leprechaun Land, because the two goons snorted with laughter and Cliff went so red that Chris was sure he’d burst something. But instead he just huffed out an obviously strained laugh. “Fucking moron. You’re just lucky I don’t fuck up retards,” Cliff muttered, turned around, and stomped off with his buddies in tow.
For a long moment, Chris just stood there watching them leave, hearing nothing but his and Zach’s adrenaline-labored breathing. When he was sure his former teammates were gone, he whirled on Zach, staring him right in the eyes before making a beeline to the men’s bathroom a few steps down the hall.
Zach followed, his face such a perfect, eager picture of I did good, right? that Chris was almost ashamed to yell at him. Almost. “Zach. What. The. Fuck?”
“Huh?”
He looked so clueless that Chris actually started to get angry, grabbing the front of Zach’s shirt and hauling him forward. “What the fuck did you think you were doing?”
“Backing you up?” Zach said, his voice rising along with his eyebrows.
“How exactly was that going to work?”
Zach swallowed visibly, his enthusiasm rapidly fading into sheepishness. “There were three of them.”
“Uh-huh,” Chris gritted out slowly. “And how many are there of you and me?”
“C’mon, the two of us stood a better chance than just you.”
“If shit were to go down – and it would not have, even if you hadn’t leapt in. If shit were to go down, how exactly would you be an asset to me?”
“I… I took stage combat at theatre camp,” Zach said, then winced hard. “Oh god, that sounds really stupid when I say it out loud.”
The adrenaline had ebbed, and Chris slowly unclenched his fists from Zach’s shirt. Zach looked absolutely pitiful now, and Chris couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible, even if Zach was still kind of an idiot. “You, uh…” Chris started. “You like ‘em brawny?”
Zach snorted softly. “I was going to go with ‘beefy,’ but that sounded too gay, even for me. It’s not like I actually have a ‘type’ or anything.”
“And the pitching and catching thing?”
Zach went suddenly pale. “Look, I don’t really want to—”
“Zach, he’s the catcher.”
“What?”
“For the team. Every game he squats behind home plate and catches the ball.”
“He… Oh. Oh my god.” Zach froze, and Chris was certain he was about to either burst into tears or hysterical laughter. He surprised Chris entirely by starting to hyperventilate. “Oh fuck, what did I do? Shit, fuck, fucking… He’s going to kill me, isn’t he? He’s going to wait for me in the parking lot and he and Curly and Moe are going to beat me until my own mother won’t recognize me. And that’s if I’m lucky. Otherwise one of them’s going to grab me by the hair and tell me I’ve got a purty mouth and—”
“Zach, stop,” Chris yelped, grabbing him by the shoulders and holding him steady. “Stop. Look, Cliff is an asshole, but I’ve never known him to get violent. Plus he’s got a scholarship. Fighting will get him expelled, which means no more baseball, which means his father actually might kill him.”
Zach whimpered, obviously unconvinced. He looked like he could be blown over by a strong wind, and Chris fought the urge to wrap his arms around him. “Besides,” Chris chuckled, “if he goes after you, by extension he goes after me, and that means he’s up against Eric. Nobody goes up against Eric. He’s Australian.” Zach looked adorably confused and Chris laughed again. “Baseball is a complex social structure. It’s like Jane Austen on steroids.”
“So,” Zach began, seeming to have calmed a little as he processed this. “Nobody fucks with you if you’re Australian?”
“Well, it kind of helps that he’s twelve feet tall and can bench press more than you weigh.”
Zach sagged until Chris was pretty sure his hands were the only thing holding him up. “Chris, I’m so sorry about this. I thought I was… Fuck it all, I thought I was helping.”
“Hey, don’t. It’s okay.” Chris rubbed Zach’s upper arms firmly. “It was… kind of sweet, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You were actually expecting to throw down. Honest to god, apart from my family, I don’t think there’s a single other person I know who would’ve done that for me.”
“What about Eric?”
“Eric wouldn’t face down three guys that were stronger than him, threaten them, and then fucking flirt with them. Seriously, man, what are your balls made of? Galvanized steel?”
By now Zach was actively repressing a smile, his cheeks flushed in the most appealing way. His skin was a little shiny with sweat, his chest still rising visibly with each inhale. He looked like he’d just been—
Fuck it.
Chris took a deep breath, leaned in, and kissed him.
Continue to part three
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