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May. 24th, 2005 06:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lilyhs_backup posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rareslashTitle: Hall of the Mountain Kings
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dayafternext
Pairing: Dennis Quaid/Topher Grace
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: As far as I know, this never happened. But what do I know? :)
Notes: In Good Company's original title was Synergy. You don't have to have seen In Good Company to understand this fic. This was written forcathect because she's amazing.
+
“Um, hi.” Topher coughed and his hand shook as he held it out. “Dennis Quaid, right?”
That killer grin and a firm hand gripping his. “Yup. You’re Topher Grace?”
Topher could feel himself flush at the recognition. “Yeah, uh, hi. Sorry to just come up to you like this, but, um, I’m a huge fan of your work.”
“Hey, thanks. You’re on that show, right? About the seventies?”
“Yup!” Topher said happily, and then inwardly winced. What kind of actor says yup like that, so cheerfully and stupidly, especially at some la-dee-da post-release party for a movie about drugs, of all things? But Dennis smiled again, and Topher felt weak in the knees, and when he told Dennis that his publicist was making him go out with some girl from LA, and Dennis invited him and his date to his concert, with an offer to hang out after the show…there was no way Topher could say no. No way that he would want to say no.
---
“I was taken to a place, the hall of the mountain kings.
I stood high upon a mountain top, naked to the world…”
Topher was entranced, to say the least. The music soared around him, and he proclaimed to his date that Dennis Quaid and the Sharks was his new favorite band. She murmured something drunken and stupid and continued to make out with his neck. Topher knew he should be enjoying the sensation, but instead couldn’t take his eyes off of Dennis and his guitar. He couldn’t bring himself to care that he was the only guy in the audience, especially not when he and Dennis locked eyes and Dennis sang, sang straight to him.
---
After the show, Topher and his date went outside. The cold wind whipped around them, making ripples in the girl’s pink dress.
“Hey, listen, Kim, do you want to go backstage? Uh, Quaid and I, see, we’re friends, we’re pals. We were in Traffic together, and—”
“Topheeer,” she whined. “Don’t you want to come back to my place?”
Topher shook his head. “No. Not especially.” Her eyes narrowed, and she pushed him. He stumbled backwards and stared at her in shock.
“I saw how you were staring at that guy on stage, you fag. Fuck off and die.” She stormed off, and only tripped on her stilettos once.
Shaken, Topher went back into the club. The girl didn’t know what she was talking about. He didn’t like Dennis, not that way. They were barely even friends, he had just met him once…
He climbed up the stairs at the side of the stage, and was stopped by a burly bald man’s hand on his chest.
“Where do you think you’re going, short stuff?”
“Just…backstage. Dennis invited me backstage,” Topher said in confusion. The man laughed, but Topher was determined. “No, really. He did. We were at this party, see—”
“Run home to your mama, little boy, Dennis ain’t told me about nobody being invited nowhere.” Topher gritted his teeth and pushed the man’s hand off of him. He had just started to open his mouth to protest once again, when he heard someone say:
“Steve.” Dennis came around the corner. “Cool it, man. Topher’s my guy.” Dennis grinned at Topher, who felt as if he would pass out in relief. Steve retreated, and Dennis clapped a hand on Topher’s shoulder. “Come on, everyone else is gone. I’ll show you around the glory of the backstage. Where’s your date?”
“She called me a fag and ran off.” He went pale as he listened to his own words, and wondered what had made him so suddenly honest.
But Dennis laughed. “I get that more often than you would imagine. Anyway, what’d you think of the show?”
“It was great,” Topher exclaimed. “The way you played the guitar, and you were so wild, and I—everyone thought you looked so fucking sexy, and…” He trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable with the way that Dennis was looking at him. “What?”
Dennis took a step forward, and Topher took a step back. This happened again and again, until Topher realized that Dennis had just backed him up against the wall.
Topher finally figured out what it was that made the look Dennis was giving him so strange. It was…well, it was predatory.
Topher found that his breath was coming in short, small gasps. “Well! I better get going, you know, gotta wake up early, and…” He trailed off, and met Dennis’ eyes. They were blazing.
Topher took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, when he felt lips brush against his own, and then Dennis pulled back, staring at him calmly.
Topher stared back, and asked quietly, “Why did you stop?” Then he grabbed the back of Dennis’ head and pulled him down. Their lips met once again, and the kisses deepened this time, and their eyes were closed now, their bodies pressed flush against each other, until Topher found he could barely breathe—and he didn’t care.
Dennis pulled away once again, and this time took a step back. “I gotta go. I’ll see you around, Topher.” He turned around, picked up a duffel bag from the corner of the room, slung it over his shoulder, and left without another word.
Topher slid down to the ground, curled up, and wondered what he did wrong.
---
Topher went to four more Sharks concerts in the next three years. But Dennis never glanced at him, not even when he got front-row seats. And he could never get backstage again.
When he found out that this new movie he was going to be doing, Synergy, was co-starring Dennis Quaid, he did his best not to start laughing, hysteria taking him over. It was just too, too perfect.
The first day of rehearsals, Topher dressed in his favorite “confident” outfit—dark blue jeans and that black t-shirt that said, “your boyfriend wants me” in bright red letters—and walked onto the set, struggling to hold his head high and his resolution firm. He saw Dennis sitting in the chair with his name sewn on the back, talking to Paul Weitz, and stalked over to him.
“Fuck you,” Topher snapped, once he got close to Dennis. Dennis and Paul both jumped, and turned to look at him. Topher tried to keep his face calm.
Paul looked back and forth between the two men, one furious, the other seemingly blank. “So, uh,” he started to say. “I see you two have met?”
“Paul, I think I’d better talk to you later,” Dennis murmured. Paul nodded and, confused, walked away.
Topher’s chest was heaving. He hadn’t thought he would lose control like this, but seeing Dennis brought the memory of the concert and the kiss rushing back.
“Topher.” Dennis said, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
Topher started, terribly surprised at the sudden apology. He had already prepared himself for hours of yelling, ready to burst forth with every grievance he had built up over the past years. For he hadn’t had a kiss like That One since then, and every brief relationship he had, had been ruined by the thought of Dennis and that goddamn smile.
“I know I fucked up, but I really did have to go that time, and then I kept thinking back on it, and I just. I don’t know. I don’t have a good excuse. I’m sorry, Topher.”
Topher was speechless. What could he say? He couldn’t go off onto his angry tirade now, but he couldn’t just forgive Dennis either.
That is…why couldn’t he? It’s not like Dennis did anything that bad. He just…abandoned him a little. Which, Topher supposed, was forgivable.
“Well,” Topher said, a smirk starting to spread on his face. “I think you’ll just have to prove to me how sorry you are.”
Dennis’ eyes crinkled in bewilderment for a moment, and then he smiled in understanding. “I can do that.”
---
Sex became a regular thing for the two of them after that. They would sneak off during breaks between filming, and make out in the shadows in the darkest corners of the sets. They would press up against each other in the offices of the borrowed building. They would playfully call each other “Dan” and “Mr. Duryea”, and they would hurriedly part when Paul or Richard or another crew member would walk in, informing them that the next scene was coming up and they better get into hair and makeup quickly to get rid of that flush in their cheeks and their mussed up hair.
---
“Great job, you guys!” Paul shouted. “We’ll break for an hour, and then on to the next scene.”
The set burst into noise as the crew began to talk amongst themselves, rushing to craft services for food. Dennis and Topher glanced at each other from across the set. Dennis smirked, jerked his head quickly towards the exit, and left. Topher stood around chatting with Richard Graves, the first AD, for a few minutes before excusing himself. He walked calmly until he got the soundstage door—where he broke into a run through the parking lot. By the time he got to Dennis’ trailer, he was out of breath. He flung the door open, and Dennis was standing right there, with that goddamned cocky grin on his face.
“Hi,” Dennis said.
“Hey,” Topher panted.
A pause, and then—
Dennis grabbed Topher’s tie and roughly pulled him in, crushing their lips together. Topher, still out of breath from his run, breathed hard into Dennis’ mouth. Dennis bit Topher’s bottom lip gently, and then slid his tongue between those lips. Heat and warmth and slick wetness surrounded Topher’s consciousness. He wrapped his arms and Dennis’ neck and held him tightly, backing him up against the opposite wall. Their bodies pressed against each other, their kisses growing deeper and more passionate—Topher was, most definitely, hard. And as he slid his leg in between Dennis’ thighs, he could feel his arousal being reciprocated. Topher gyrated his hips, grinding down on Dennis. He moaned and squeezed his eyes shut.
Dennis gently pushed Topher away, took a hold of his hand, and led him over to the ratty trailer couch. Topher sat down heavily, and grinned dizzily when Dennis sank to his knees. Dennis raked his hands up Topher’s thighs, and his mouth followed, until a final cloth-covered kiss was pressed deep into Topher’s crotch. Then Dennis’ hands, his quick, clever hands, hastily undid the fly of Topher’s pants. Topher lifted his hips and Dennis slid the pants down his legs—and was delighted to see that Topher wasn’t wearing underwear, in a suit that belonged to the studio, no less!
Dennis leaned forward and licked his way up the shaft of Topher’s cock. Topher groaned and his hands fisted in Dennis’ hair. Dennis looked up and smiled, right before taking the plunge and sliding Topher’s cock all the way into his mouth.
“Fuck, Dennis,” Topher said quietly, and shuddered as Dennis’ tongue swiped across that spot. Dennis took Topher in as deep as he could, the head brushing the back of his throat. He sucked hard, his cheeks inverting. Topher could feel the pressure rising, and every time this happened, the feelings were such a surprise, like he had never felt it before. He came quickly, crying out sharply, his head thrown back. Dennis swallowed with the ease of one who has practiced this sort of thing before. Dennis reached up and held Topher’s hand, squeezing it as Topher rode through his climax, Topher whispering Dennis’ name over and over again.
The orgasm slowly ebbed away, and left Topher slumped, completely spent. Dennis kissed his way up Topher’s stomach, his chest, his neck, until he reached his mouth. Topher smiled lazily against Dennis’ lips and kissed him back.
“Your turn,” Topher said, and Dennis laughed quietly. Topher stood up and pulled Dennis to his feet, only to push him down again onto the couch—this time, however, Topher was straddling his legs. Topher set to work on Dennis’ jaw and neck, biting and licking and kissing as his hands pushed under Dennis’ shirt. Topher slid his fingers up Dennis’ chest, lightly tugging at his nipples. Dennis gasped. Topher stopped the kissing for a moment to pull Dennis’ shirt over his head. He threw it to the side, and reached his hands down to rest on the waistband of Dennis’ jeans. He paused for a moment, looking into the other man’s eyes, lost in them.
“Don’t stop, Topher, Christ, don’t stop,” Dennis groaned. He didn’t need to tell him twice. Topher undid Dennis’ pants, reached inside his boxers, and took a firm hold on Dennis’ cock. He squeezed it gently and began to stroke. Dennis moaned and pulled Topher in for a deep kiss—Topher’s hand never stopped moving. Dennis was breathing hard, his breath coming in short quick spasms. He began to tremble as he felt his orgasm spreading through his nerves. Topher leaned forward and murmured in his ear.
“You are so fucking hot.”
The sound of Topher combined with the feel of Topher sent Dennis over the edge. He came hard, spilling over Topher’s hand and his own pants, and he didn’t care about ruining the clothes, not now. Not now that he felt on fire, felt almost, but not quite, but maybe, sort of in love.
Topher leaned his forehead against Dennis’. “You’re amazing.”
“And messy,” Dennis replied, smiling. Topher laughed and stood up, and Dennis did the same. “I’m going to go take a shower, care to join me?”
“Well, of course,” Topher said. “Did you have to ask?”
“I’ll get it started.” Dennis peeled his sticky clothes off, leaving them on the floor. He walked into the trailer’s miniature bathroom, letting the flimsy door swing shut behind him. Topher heard the water swoosh on, the sound of the droplets muffled where they fell onto Dennis. Topher stripped quickly, grabbed two towels, and was about to head after Dennis…when there was a knock at the door.
Topher’s heart seemed to skip a beat. He dropped one of the towels, hurriedly wrapped the other around his waist, and opened the door.
It was Jennifer Hicks, an assistant who wandered around the set from time to time. She looked at Topher in surprise, her eyes flicking down to his chest and then up again, with a bit of red tinting her cheeks. Topher could almost see the gears turning in her head, adding up his presence in Dennis’ trailer to his current state of undress.
“Mr. Grace!” she said nervously. “Mr. Weitz sent me to—”
But what Jennifer had been sent to do, he never found out, because at that moment Dennis walked out of the bathroom, dripping wet, and naked.
“Topher, are you coming or what?” Dennis called, until he caught sight of Jennifer. He made a funny choking sound and snatched a towel off the floor, holding it in front of him like a shield.
Jennifer looked back and forth between them, her lipstick-red mouth hanging open.
“Right then! I’ll just—um, I won’t say—I’ll just be going now,” she stammered, and then turned around and walked away as quickly as she could without making it seem like she was running.
Dennis and Topher looked at each other. Dennis shrugged, and Topher closed the trailer door.
[end]
Author:
dayafternextPairing: Dennis Quaid/Topher Grace
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: As far as I know, this never happened. But what do I know? :)
Notes: In Good Company's original title was Synergy. You don't have to have seen In Good Company to understand this fic. This was written for
cathect because she's amazing.+
“Um, hi.” Topher coughed and his hand shook as he held it out. “Dennis Quaid, right?”
That killer grin and a firm hand gripping his. “Yup. You’re Topher Grace?”
Topher could feel himself flush at the recognition. “Yeah, uh, hi. Sorry to just come up to you like this, but, um, I’m a huge fan of your work.”
“Hey, thanks. You’re on that show, right? About the seventies?”
“Yup!” Topher said happily, and then inwardly winced. What kind of actor says yup like that, so cheerfully and stupidly, especially at some la-dee-da post-release party for a movie about drugs, of all things? But Dennis smiled again, and Topher felt weak in the knees, and when he told Dennis that his publicist was making him go out with some girl from LA, and Dennis invited him and his date to his concert, with an offer to hang out after the show…there was no way Topher could say no. No way that he would want to say no.
---
“I was taken to a place, the hall of the mountain kings.
I stood high upon a mountain top, naked to the world…”
Topher was entranced, to say the least. The music soared around him, and he proclaimed to his date that Dennis Quaid and the Sharks was his new favorite band. She murmured something drunken and stupid and continued to make out with his neck. Topher knew he should be enjoying the sensation, but instead couldn’t take his eyes off of Dennis and his guitar. He couldn’t bring himself to care that he was the only guy in the audience, especially not when he and Dennis locked eyes and Dennis sang, sang straight to him.
---
After the show, Topher and his date went outside. The cold wind whipped around them, making ripples in the girl’s pink dress.
“Hey, listen, Kim, do you want to go backstage? Uh, Quaid and I, see, we’re friends, we’re pals. We were in Traffic together, and—”
“Topheeer,” she whined. “Don’t you want to come back to my place?”
Topher shook his head. “No. Not especially.” Her eyes narrowed, and she pushed him. He stumbled backwards and stared at her in shock.
“I saw how you were staring at that guy on stage, you fag. Fuck off and die.” She stormed off, and only tripped on her stilettos once.
Shaken, Topher went back into the club. The girl didn’t know what she was talking about. He didn’t like Dennis, not that way. They were barely even friends, he had just met him once…
He climbed up the stairs at the side of the stage, and was stopped by a burly bald man’s hand on his chest.
“Where do you think you’re going, short stuff?”
“Just…backstage. Dennis invited me backstage,” Topher said in confusion. The man laughed, but Topher was determined. “No, really. He did. We were at this party, see—”
“Run home to your mama, little boy, Dennis ain’t told me about nobody being invited nowhere.” Topher gritted his teeth and pushed the man’s hand off of him. He had just started to open his mouth to protest once again, when he heard someone say:
“Steve.” Dennis came around the corner. “Cool it, man. Topher’s my guy.” Dennis grinned at Topher, who felt as if he would pass out in relief. Steve retreated, and Dennis clapped a hand on Topher’s shoulder. “Come on, everyone else is gone. I’ll show you around the glory of the backstage. Where’s your date?”
“She called me a fag and ran off.” He went pale as he listened to his own words, and wondered what had made him so suddenly honest.
But Dennis laughed. “I get that more often than you would imagine. Anyway, what’d you think of the show?”
“It was great,” Topher exclaimed. “The way you played the guitar, and you were so wild, and I—everyone thought you looked so fucking sexy, and…” He trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable with the way that Dennis was looking at him. “What?”
Dennis took a step forward, and Topher took a step back. This happened again and again, until Topher realized that Dennis had just backed him up against the wall.
Topher finally figured out what it was that made the look Dennis was giving him so strange. It was…well, it was predatory.
Topher found that his breath was coming in short, small gasps. “Well! I better get going, you know, gotta wake up early, and…” He trailed off, and met Dennis’ eyes. They were blazing.
Topher took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, when he felt lips brush against his own, and then Dennis pulled back, staring at him calmly.
Topher stared back, and asked quietly, “Why did you stop?” Then he grabbed the back of Dennis’ head and pulled him down. Their lips met once again, and the kisses deepened this time, and their eyes were closed now, their bodies pressed flush against each other, until Topher found he could barely breathe—and he didn’t care.
Dennis pulled away once again, and this time took a step back. “I gotta go. I’ll see you around, Topher.” He turned around, picked up a duffel bag from the corner of the room, slung it over his shoulder, and left without another word.
Topher slid down to the ground, curled up, and wondered what he did wrong.
---
Topher went to four more Sharks concerts in the next three years. But Dennis never glanced at him, not even when he got front-row seats. And he could never get backstage again.
When he found out that this new movie he was going to be doing, Synergy, was co-starring Dennis Quaid, he did his best not to start laughing, hysteria taking him over. It was just too, too perfect.
The first day of rehearsals, Topher dressed in his favorite “confident” outfit—dark blue jeans and that black t-shirt that said, “your boyfriend wants me” in bright red letters—and walked onto the set, struggling to hold his head high and his resolution firm. He saw Dennis sitting in the chair with his name sewn on the back, talking to Paul Weitz, and stalked over to him.
“Fuck you,” Topher snapped, once he got close to Dennis. Dennis and Paul both jumped, and turned to look at him. Topher tried to keep his face calm.
Paul looked back and forth between the two men, one furious, the other seemingly blank. “So, uh,” he started to say. “I see you two have met?”
“Paul, I think I’d better talk to you later,” Dennis murmured. Paul nodded and, confused, walked away.
Topher’s chest was heaving. He hadn’t thought he would lose control like this, but seeing Dennis brought the memory of the concert and the kiss rushing back.
“Topher.” Dennis said, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
Topher started, terribly surprised at the sudden apology. He had already prepared himself for hours of yelling, ready to burst forth with every grievance he had built up over the past years. For he hadn’t had a kiss like That One since then, and every brief relationship he had, had been ruined by the thought of Dennis and that goddamn smile.
“I know I fucked up, but I really did have to go that time, and then I kept thinking back on it, and I just. I don’t know. I don’t have a good excuse. I’m sorry, Topher.”
Topher was speechless. What could he say? He couldn’t go off onto his angry tirade now, but he couldn’t just forgive Dennis either.
That is…why couldn’t he? It’s not like Dennis did anything that bad. He just…abandoned him a little. Which, Topher supposed, was forgivable.
“Well,” Topher said, a smirk starting to spread on his face. “I think you’ll just have to prove to me how sorry you are.”
Dennis’ eyes crinkled in bewilderment for a moment, and then he smiled in understanding. “I can do that.”
---
Sex became a regular thing for the two of them after that. They would sneak off during breaks between filming, and make out in the shadows in the darkest corners of the sets. They would press up against each other in the offices of the borrowed building. They would playfully call each other “Dan” and “Mr. Duryea”, and they would hurriedly part when Paul or Richard or another crew member would walk in, informing them that the next scene was coming up and they better get into hair and makeup quickly to get rid of that flush in their cheeks and their mussed up hair.
---
“Great job, you guys!” Paul shouted. “We’ll break for an hour, and then on to the next scene.”
The set burst into noise as the crew began to talk amongst themselves, rushing to craft services for food. Dennis and Topher glanced at each other from across the set. Dennis smirked, jerked his head quickly towards the exit, and left. Topher stood around chatting with Richard Graves, the first AD, for a few minutes before excusing himself. He walked calmly until he got the soundstage door—where he broke into a run through the parking lot. By the time he got to Dennis’ trailer, he was out of breath. He flung the door open, and Dennis was standing right there, with that goddamned cocky grin on his face.
“Hi,” Dennis said.
“Hey,” Topher panted.
A pause, and then—
Dennis grabbed Topher’s tie and roughly pulled him in, crushing their lips together. Topher, still out of breath from his run, breathed hard into Dennis’ mouth. Dennis bit Topher’s bottom lip gently, and then slid his tongue between those lips. Heat and warmth and slick wetness surrounded Topher’s consciousness. He wrapped his arms and Dennis’ neck and held him tightly, backing him up against the opposite wall. Their bodies pressed against each other, their kisses growing deeper and more passionate—Topher was, most definitely, hard. And as he slid his leg in between Dennis’ thighs, he could feel his arousal being reciprocated. Topher gyrated his hips, grinding down on Dennis. He moaned and squeezed his eyes shut.
Dennis gently pushed Topher away, took a hold of his hand, and led him over to the ratty trailer couch. Topher sat down heavily, and grinned dizzily when Dennis sank to his knees. Dennis raked his hands up Topher’s thighs, and his mouth followed, until a final cloth-covered kiss was pressed deep into Topher’s crotch. Then Dennis’ hands, his quick, clever hands, hastily undid the fly of Topher’s pants. Topher lifted his hips and Dennis slid the pants down his legs—and was delighted to see that Topher wasn’t wearing underwear, in a suit that belonged to the studio, no less!
Dennis leaned forward and licked his way up the shaft of Topher’s cock. Topher groaned and his hands fisted in Dennis’ hair. Dennis looked up and smiled, right before taking the plunge and sliding Topher’s cock all the way into his mouth.
“Fuck, Dennis,” Topher said quietly, and shuddered as Dennis’ tongue swiped across that spot. Dennis took Topher in as deep as he could, the head brushing the back of his throat. He sucked hard, his cheeks inverting. Topher could feel the pressure rising, and every time this happened, the feelings were such a surprise, like he had never felt it before. He came quickly, crying out sharply, his head thrown back. Dennis swallowed with the ease of one who has practiced this sort of thing before. Dennis reached up and held Topher’s hand, squeezing it as Topher rode through his climax, Topher whispering Dennis’ name over and over again.
The orgasm slowly ebbed away, and left Topher slumped, completely spent. Dennis kissed his way up Topher’s stomach, his chest, his neck, until he reached his mouth. Topher smiled lazily against Dennis’ lips and kissed him back.
“Your turn,” Topher said, and Dennis laughed quietly. Topher stood up and pulled Dennis to his feet, only to push him down again onto the couch—this time, however, Topher was straddling his legs. Topher set to work on Dennis’ jaw and neck, biting and licking and kissing as his hands pushed under Dennis’ shirt. Topher slid his fingers up Dennis’ chest, lightly tugging at his nipples. Dennis gasped. Topher stopped the kissing for a moment to pull Dennis’ shirt over his head. He threw it to the side, and reached his hands down to rest on the waistband of Dennis’ jeans. He paused for a moment, looking into the other man’s eyes, lost in them.
“Don’t stop, Topher, Christ, don’t stop,” Dennis groaned. He didn’t need to tell him twice. Topher undid Dennis’ pants, reached inside his boxers, and took a firm hold on Dennis’ cock. He squeezed it gently and began to stroke. Dennis moaned and pulled Topher in for a deep kiss—Topher’s hand never stopped moving. Dennis was breathing hard, his breath coming in short quick spasms. He began to tremble as he felt his orgasm spreading through his nerves. Topher leaned forward and murmured in his ear.
“You are so fucking hot.”
The sound of Topher combined with the feel of Topher sent Dennis over the edge. He came hard, spilling over Topher’s hand and his own pants, and he didn’t care about ruining the clothes, not now. Not now that he felt on fire, felt almost, but not quite, but maybe, sort of in love.
Topher leaned his forehead against Dennis’. “You’re amazing.”
“And messy,” Dennis replied, smiling. Topher laughed and stood up, and Dennis did the same. “I’m going to go take a shower, care to join me?”
“Well, of course,” Topher said. “Did you have to ask?”
“I’ll get it started.” Dennis peeled his sticky clothes off, leaving them on the floor. He walked into the trailer’s miniature bathroom, letting the flimsy door swing shut behind him. Topher heard the water swoosh on, the sound of the droplets muffled where they fell onto Dennis. Topher stripped quickly, grabbed two towels, and was about to head after Dennis…when there was a knock at the door.
Topher’s heart seemed to skip a beat. He dropped one of the towels, hurriedly wrapped the other around his waist, and opened the door.
It was Jennifer Hicks, an assistant who wandered around the set from time to time. She looked at Topher in surprise, her eyes flicking down to his chest and then up again, with a bit of red tinting her cheeks. Topher could almost see the gears turning in her head, adding up his presence in Dennis’ trailer to his current state of undress.
“Mr. Grace!” she said nervously. “Mr. Weitz sent me to—”
But what Jennifer had been sent to do, he never found out, because at that moment Dennis walked out of the bathroom, dripping wet, and naked.
“Topher, are you coming or what?” Dennis called, until he caught sight of Jennifer. He made a funny choking sound and snatched a towel off the floor, holding it in front of him like a shield.
Jennifer looked back and forth between them, her lipstick-red mouth hanging open.
“Right then! I’ll just—um, I won’t say—I’ll just be going now,” she stammered, and then turned around and walked away as quickly as she could without making it seem like she was running.
Dennis and Topher looked at each other. Dennis shrugged, and Topher closed the trailer door.
[end]
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no subject
Date: 2005-06-12 10:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-13 02:12 am (UTC)