Randy wasn't even sure he believed in love at first sight until he fell hard and fast for Gale, so tall and beautiful and attractive. As soon as Randy saw him, heard his voice, he wanted to know him. He wanted to have sex with him and love him until he fucking died, but he'd settle for at least learning his name. When he realized that this was the man who would play his lover Brian, his head spun and his heartbeat quickened and all that cliché bullshit he'd never really experienced before.
Then suddenly Gale's eyes settled on him and lit up as though immeasurably pleased. He approached Randy in swift, long strides, and it was all Randy could do not to rush at him with open arms. His face tilted up instinctively; only because Gale was so tall and not at all in hopes of a kiss. A kiss! What the fuck? Randy had always laughed at his friends in school that crushed on their teachers or fell in 'love' with someone after a month of dating. And yet here he was, holding his breath in expectation of what this gorgeous man might do next. Gale smiled at him and said, "You must be Randy?"
"I must be," Randy agreed, and suppressed a dreamy sigh. Suppressed a lot of them actually, throughout that day and many that followed. Gale was fucking dreamy, no other way to put it. Randy kept giggling through their first love scene, just giddy as all fuck to be kissing him while he was naked.
"What's so funny?" Gale asked, looking amused and vaguely insulted.
"I'm just..." Randy giggled helplessly, blushing and feeling like a silly schoolgirl. "I look so young!"
"I know," Gale laughed. "People are gonna freak out." Then he leaned in until their noses nearly touched and said, "It'll be great."
Randy nodded his assent and absofuckinglutely did not sigh.
* * *
Being naked and sexual with Gale was both the most incredible and horrible parts of the job. Incredible for obvious reasons and horrible for even more obvious reasons. Like the fact that it wasn't real, no matter how much or what Randy wished, but it felt real-- it felt very real when they were tangled together and kissing each other breathless. Sometimes Randy would get hard, but that was okay because Gale would get hard too and smile at him like it was funny or at least all right. And when the director called cut, Gale would let out a big Phew and wipe at his forehead and ask if anyone else felt hot. He would look at Randy when he said it, his eyes sparkling and friendly, and Randy would grin at him and laugh with him and want to fucking marry him and have his little sparkly-eyed babies.
Seriously, it was pathetic.
* * *
Randy had never been accused of being shy, and he flirted with Gale as much as he damn well pleased. And why shouldn't he? Gale certainly didn't seem to mind. Randy would poke his side and smile up at him or hold his hand and bat his eyes, and Gale would smile right back and pull him into a hug and invite him to his trailer during breaks to watch television. Gale didn't know how to channel surf correctly-- there was a system, damn it! A very complex and correct system that would be universal if life was fair-- but Randy let him control the remote despite his gross ineptitude. And so what if that meant he had to sit through commercials and bad made-for-television movies, as long as he was snuggled up (but not too snuggled up) to the man of his dreams?
But sometimes things happened that kind of threw him off. Little things.
Like on holidays, when Gale would tell him, "Happy [Whateverthefuck]". Randy was always a little put off, because he didn't think Gale cared about stuff like that. He found it strange that Gale even admitted to knowing it was St. Patrick's Day, much less wore a green shirt that said Kiss Me, I'm Irish! He shrugged it off, though, and kissed him.
Or the time Randy brought lunch to Gale's trailer, sandwiches and a big bag of chips and two bottles of juice. He'd handed Gale his share and was surprised to hear, "Can we switch?"
"What?"
"Can we switch drinks?" Gale repeated, holding out his bottle.
"Why?" Randy asked, trading with him.
"I don't like guava juice," Gale said, and popped open Randy's cranapple cocktail.
"Huh," Randy grunted. For some reason he'd thought Gale loved it.
* * *
The first time they fucked was after the season one wrap party. Randy had one too many drinks, or maybe five too many drinks-- either way, it's decided by the cast unanimous that he shouldn't drive himself home. So Gale offered to, and in the car on the way to his apartment, Randy looked out the window up at the stars and realized that he really needed to fuck tonight. So he said it: "I really need to fuck."
Gale just laughed, eyes still on the road.
"Tonight," Randy clarified. "I really need to fuck tonight." He almost added Or else, but didn't.
Gale glanced over, and Randy looked at him expectantly. "Well then, do it," Gale said finally.
Taking that as a Yes, please, Randy lunged across the seat (as well as he could with his seat belt on) and attacked. Arms around Gale's neck, fingers in his hair, mouth on his neck. When he wasn't pushed away, Randy licked a trail up to Gale's ear and rasped, "I'm gonna fuck you."
"Are you gonna fuck me all night long?" Gale asked, with a fucking familiar
and hot smirk, and Randy laughed and groaned and said yes, yes, yes.
* * *
Gale had always claimed to be straight and Randy had always suspected it was bullshit, but he asked him about it anyway the morning after. "Why do you say you're straight?"
What do you mean?" Gale said. "I am straight. I just sometimes have sex with men."
"If what?" Randy asked, basically wondering if Gale thought he was girly. Because yes, he was small and thin and pretty, but please note the big cock and balls. He was one hundred percent man, baby, thankyouverymuch.
"If I feel like it," Gale said, pulling him close. "Isn't that why you fuck men?"
"Well yes, because I feel like it...but also because I'm gay," Randy said.
"It helps if the guy is really hot and nice and I like him a whole lot." Gale smiled and kissed him sweetly. "And if he makes me breakfast the next day."
"You should make me breakfast; I did all the work. You just laid there," Randy said.
"Lies!" Gale cried. "Go make me some toaster strudels, liar!"
"I'll make you toaster strudels if you stop telling people you're straight," Randy said.
"I am straight," Gale insisted. "Besides, it's nobody's fucking business; I think it's rude of them to ask. I could tell them I only fuck zebras, for as much truth as they deserve."
Randy felt a rush of affection and lust, and twined his arms around Gale's neck. "It's not a lie if they make you lie, hmm?"
Gale smirked. "Yeah. Something like that."
* * *
They had a good post-season break, busy with personal projects and spending the night together when they happened to be in the same place at the same time. Randy didn't think about much when he was with Gale, but rather than worry about that, he told himself it was because they were so comfortable and content with each other that there was no need to think. And it was true that his time with Gale was spent purring and rubbing together like two big cats. They ate good food and watched good movies (or sometimes bad made-for-television movies, but whatever) and laughed and fucked and slept and woke up and did it all again. It was really fucking...nice.
Almost too nice.
"Do you ever hate me?" Randy asked once, just to hold a conversation that didn't involve sexual innuendo or end with a fuck.
"What?" Gale looked at him like he was crazy. "No."
"Do you ever wonder if I hate you?" Randy asked.
"No," Gale said. "Do you?"
"No," Randy admitted with a sigh. He paused, then tried again, "What would you do if I told you I've been secretly fucking Peter? In your bed."
"Laugh," said Gale. "And then burn the sheets."
"You wouldn't care if I fucked Peter in your bed?" Randy frowned.
"Isn't that what beds are for?" Gale reasoned. "But you didn't really, right? You're just in one of your weird hypothetical moods."
"I don't have weird moods!" Randy started, then switched gears, "At least I have moods! You're always so...happy. Don't you ever get mad, or sad, or fucking anything?"
"Of course I do," Gale said. "You've seen me freak out before. Plenty of times."
Randy snorted, "Like when they forget to put black olives on our pizza."
"When I order black olives, I expect black olives, damn it!" Gale yelled, shaking a fist at the memory.
Randy's face, which had been scrunched up in annoyance, suddenly smoothed into something softer. "You don't care if I fuck other guys in your bed?"
"Hypothetical guys? No," Gale shrugged. "Knock yourself out."
"Maybe you'd like to watch?" Randy's voice was breathy, sensual. "Maybe you'd like to join in."
"Maybe you'd like to suck my dick?" Gale suggested, opening the fly of his
jeans. "And lick my hypothetical ass."
* * *
The filming of season two was a lot more fun than season one, because in the first season Randy had never been able to fuck Gale during their lunch breaks. Or during their cigarette breaks, coffee breaks, and after they got off work. There was just a lot of fucking in general, of all varieties. Also, Randy's persistent harassment of Cowen and Lipman had paid off in spades as far as Justin's character development was concerned and he was reasonably content with the boy he was playing. A smart, witty, codependent-but-still-strong-willed sex god. Cowlip were very responsive to all of his input, although that sometimes worked against him. Like at the table reading after Gale pissed him off by smoking in Randy's trailer while he wasn't there and not opening the windows (thus reeking up the place with nasty carcinogenic fumes), Randy said, "I think Justin should dump Brian's inconsiderate ass and find someone new to fuck."
He only said it to annoy Gale, he hadn't expected Lipman to say, "How'd you guess? He's going to meet someone else!"
"Weh?" Randy said, shocked.
"For reals?" Gale said, lighting a cigarette.
"For really reals," Cowen confirmed. "In episode sixteen he's gonna meet a new guy."
"Brian wouldn't let some new guy steal Justin!" Randy protested, scandalized. "He'd rip the guy's balls off and send him packing with one in each pocket!"
"Is he hot?" Gale asked, and tapped his ash off into Randy's coffee cup. He
grinned sheepishly when Randy glared.
* * *
Randy had started smoking pot back in high school, so he couldn't really blame Gale's bad influence on that, but it was entirely Gale's fault that Randy took up smoking cigarettes. Gale would always smoke after sex and Randy had read somewhere that someone inhaling secondhand smoke was worse off than the actual smoker. So, he figured if he was going to die of lung cancer he may as well get some enjoyment out of it. Also, if Gale was killing him with secondhand smoke, Randy was damn well going to kill him right back. But the real breaking point was Gale's new nickname fetish. It was driving Randy insane and he needed some sort of stimulant to deal/something to keep his hands and mouth busy so he wouldn't pimpslap Gale to death or call him an idiotic fuckwad.
Gale had taken up nicknaming everything. His trailer was 'Hanky' (like the Christmas Poo), and Randy's was 'Panky' (like the euphemism when paired with Gale's). The trailers were married and their last name was Haroldson because, while especially high one afternoon, Gale had declared them MFEO. He'd even drawn little signs to hang in each one that read: Hanky + Panky = TrU LuV 4eVarZ!!! When Randy saw the sign on his fridge, he'd tried to take it down but Gale had tackled him, wailing, "Why do you deny their love?!"
Gale nicknamed their genitalia, cars, a few pairs of shoes, and the dog that always barked at night near Randy's apartment. That was kind of amusing when Randy was high as a kite at four in the morning, post-coital lazy and giggling as Gale screamed out the window, "Rosco, you bastard! Shut the fuck up or I'll go Old Yeller on your ass!"
But what wasn't amusing, what was rather the final straw that drove Randy careening over the edge (in an entirely Thelma and Louise-esque metaphorical way) into the evil grasp of tobacco addiction, was Gale's nickname for him: Snooglyshnork. (Thelma and/or Louise = Randy. Cops/ Jail time/ Fate Worse Than Death = Snooglyshnork.)
"What the fuck does it even mean?" Randy demanded during one of his many one-sided fights with Gale over its stupidity.
"It means you're my Snooglyshnork!" Gale cooed, squeezing him in a big, stupid bear hug.
"Whatever. Just stop fucking calling me that," Randy said. "Or else."
"Or else what?" Gale asked.
"Or else I'm going to come up with a stupidass nickname to call you," Randy threatened.
Unfortunately, Gale was thrilled at the idea. Fortunately, Randy came up with 'Ugly'.
"Can I bum a cigarette, Snooglyshnork?"
"Sure thing, Ugly."
Randy was bothered by Gale's nicknaming fascination for myriad reasons. Like the fact that it was annoying and retarded and that he didn't like it when Gale called out the name of his dick during sex. It always took him a second to remember he shouldn't be offended. Also, it was strange to him that Gale would subscribe to nicknames at all-- especially one as cutesy as 'Snooglyshnork'.
While filming the episode wherein Justin and Michael create Rage, Randy sat alone near the craft service table during lunch. When Gale had asked if he wanted Thai or pizza, Randy snarled, "Do you really think I'd eat with you after what you did?"
So Gale was hiding out in Hanky Haroldson, probably eating rice noodles and watching E! True Hollywood Story: MC Hammer, and Randy was sitting on a metal folding chair gnawing on a rubbery turkey-on-rye. Thea approached him bearing chicken wraps and he gratefully accepted one. "You are a fucking goddess," he told her, chewing happily.
She smiled at him, nibbling on her own wrap, and said, "How hilarious was Gale in that last scene?"
Randy scowled. "Hilarious? He was a total fucking asshole."
"Brian can be a real jerk," Thea agreed. "But the way Gale does it, you gotta love him even when you hate him, you know?" She laughed, shaking her head, and did a bad impression of Drunk Brian: "Rise and shine, Sunshine!"
Randy smiled despite himself. "Whatever."
"And how cute it is that he calls Justin 'Sunshine'? It's so seemingly out of character, you know? He has this goofy side to him that you don't get to see too often, but it's so frickin' adorable," Thea gushed. "Brian is definitely my favorite character."
"Mine too," Randy said, and stood up. He wasn't due for another scene for at
least an hour; he might as well waste some time in Hanky.
* * *
Randy really fucking hated doing sex scenes with Fabrizio because everyone kept telling him to, "wake the fuck up! You're supposed to be having sex, remember?"
"I know that," Randy would snap. "I just think that, after Brian, sex with anyone else would be kind of boring."
"You look like you're about to fall asleep in the middle of it," Fab complained during one of their fake-fucking sessions.
"I'm dreamy-eyed. This is romantic, remember?" Randy defended. "Isn't that what Justin thinks is so fucking great he's willing to leave Brian? The goddamn magical-ass romance?"
"You fucking yawned," Fab glared.
"That was... a wistful sigh," Randy said. "Shut up and find something better to worry about-- like whateverthefuck's eating your chin."
By the end of the season, Randy had gone from not-hating Justin to wanting to beat him with a two-by-four. What kind of an ignorant, ungrateful prick couldn't see how much Brian truly loved him? And that he was completely romantic in his own precious, special, Brian-Fucking-Kinney way? Why couldn't Justin appreciate that Brian wasn't like every other guy that just spouted empty promises left and right (he didn't bother saying he loved people, he just fucking showed them)? Actions speak louder, still waters run deep, blah blah whatever. Justin was STUPID and HATEFUL to cheat on and leave Brian! Poor, suffering Brian!
Gale woke up with a bad cold the day after the second season wrapped and Randy decided to stay and nurse him to health before going back to the States. "Don't you have a bunch of auditions to go to?" Gale snuffled as Randy spoon-fed him soup.
"You need me right now," Randy said. "I'm not going to just abandon you for my own selfish purposes."
"It's not selfish to follow your dreams, Snooglyshnork!" Gale said. "Like Toucan Sam!"
"Toucan...?" Randy paused. "The Froot Loops bird?"
Gale nodded happily.
"He followed his nose, you dumbass." Randy put the soup bowl on the nightstand and threw the spoon at Gale's face.
"And where would we all be if he hadn't?" Gale asked, oblivious to the cutlery ricocheting off his forehead.
"See you next season," Randy said. "I'm going to New York."
"That's the spirit!" Gale cheered. "Knock 'em dead, Snooglyshnork!"
* * *
Randy met Simon in New York. Actually, Simon interviewed Randy for New York magazine, and that's how they met. What really attracted Randy to Simon was his intelligence. He spoke in coherent sentences, which was a nice change from deciphering Gale's garbling. Plus, Simon used lots of big words and wore horn-rimmed glasses and read books without illustrations and non-porn magazines, and that was likewise impressive and supremely un-Gale-like.
"And he's ugly," Gale added, when Randy e-mailed Gale pictures and then called him to tell him how Simon was everything Gale wasn't.
"He's not ugly!" Randy said. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."
"Well I'd be-holdin' in puke if I ever had to see him naked," Gale said. "He looks like Lurch and Scott's lovechild."
"Our Scott?" Randy clarified, because Gale was always tossing around names of his many (probably imaginary) friends that Randy had never met, as if Randy would somehow know or care whothefuck he was talking about. "Scott Lowell?"
"Our Scott," Gale confirmed. "Simon looks like Ted after he died of an overdose and came back to life as a flesh-eating zombie."
"No, he doesn't," Randy said.
"He looks like Undead Ted!" Gale hooted. "He's gonna eat your brains, Snooglyshnork!"
"Fuck you, Ugly," Randy said, and hung up on him.
* * *
Randy came back for the third season fully intending to hate Gale, but when he saw how Gale had decorated Hanky and Panky in pink streamers and heart balloons, he couldn't stay mad. "It's their anniversary," Gale told him. "I made a cake."
It was devil's food, Randy's favorite kind, and the first thing he did when
he went inside Panky was fuck Gale hard and then eat a big slice.
* * *
"Having sex with ugly people is edgy," Randy informed Gale. "All the cool kids are doing it. And by cool, of course I mean non-conformist, non-mainstream cool. Like, uncool cool. Anti-cool."
Gale looked confused.
"Scorn-the-supposed-cool people-so-much-I-surpass-their-coolness cool," Randy explained. "Like me."
Gale's forehead wrinkled with effort as he puzzled that out. "Like, you mean, like how all your friends wear the same glasses as you?"
"Horn-rimmed glasses are the eyewear of choice for all non-mainstream non-conformists that don't care about superficial stuff like frames," Randy sniffed. "You wouldn't understand."
"No, I get it," Gale said. "You guys are like Lisa Loeb. She dresses all cute and then wears her ugly glasses to show she doesn't care that she's cute."
"Um..." Randy frowned.
"Or like Sinead O'Conner! She was all hot and shaved her head to prove she didn't care that she was hot!" Gale continued, on a roll now. "You should shave your head, Snooglyshnork!"
"I'm not going to fucking shave my head," Randy said, twirling his hair. "Don't be retarded."
"I think you'd look hot," Gale said. "But I like it now, too. It's all long and Farrah Fawcett-y."
"Shut up, Ugly," Randy said.
"Fawcett is a weird name," Gale rambled on. "Like water faucet? I never noticed that before. Weird."
"Anyway," Randy said loudly. "Having sex with ugly people is loads more edgy than a lot of other stuff…like say, being the blonder half of an ambiguously gay actor-duo."
"Edgier," Gale said.
"Huh?" Randy said.
"You said 'more edgy'," Gale explained, "it's 'edgier'."
Randy gaped, dumbstruck.
"But, I mean...technically, both are correct..." Gale allowed, shifting nervously.
Silence.
"What about she-males?" Gale finally said. "Is dating a she-male edgy?"
"Of course it is, dummy," Randy snapped.
"What about if she just looks like a she-male? Does that count?" Gale asked.
"God, you're stupid, you stupid idiot. Why are you such a stupid idiot?"
Randy got up from the couch huffily. He started to storm out dramatically, but
when he glanced back and caught Gale's kicked-puppy expression, he threw him a
bone. "It counts, I guess. Especially if she's ugly."
* * *
Season Three Justin was only hateful for the first half of the season, before making a stunning turnaround in episode eight. He seemed to appreciate the nuances of the miraculous Kinney, so Randy stopped hating him so much. But that left him with a bunch of undirected hatred boiling inside his black coal heart, so he looked elsewhere for an outlet. He found the perfect damn-it dolly in television in general and his show in particular. It wasn't that he was bitter about typecasting and that he couldn't buy toilet paper without ugly adolescent girls screaming, "I love you, Justin!!!" at him in the grocery store; it was that he was a Serious Artiste and everyone else on the planet (except his non-mainstream, non-conformist friends) were mindless delusional knaves that would never understand him.
After the season wrapped, he headed back to New York to be among his few but beloved companions capable of relating to him. "These fans that are all obsessed with my show, it's like…they're just so stupid. It's like, hello, these fake characters aren't real! Get your own lives and like, ugh. You know?" Randy bitched to Simon as they sat in a coffee house drinking tea.
"Precious, I do know. You express your emotions so eloquently it feels as though they are my own," Simon murmured, gazing at him adoringly.
"Oh my god, it is so hard being smart. How do we put up with all the dummies? It just makes me wanna puke forever," Randy whined. "Maybe all us smart people should just, like, buy a big house somewhere and live in it."
"A utopian society," Simon nodded encouragingly.
"Well, it wouldn't have to be in Africa," Randy disagreed. "Maybe in Spain, like Argentina or something." Simon opened his mouth to interrupt, but Randy stood up and said, "Do these pants make my ass look fat?"
"Sweet Jesus, no," Simon drooled. "It looks, as always, as if lovingly sculpted by orgasmic angels."
"Good," Randy said, sitting back down. "So anyway, where was I?"
"A big house in Argentina, my brilliant darling," Simon said.
* * *
"By the way, I thought of yet another reason Simon's better than you," Randy told Gale after a steamy phone sex session. "He loves me for my brain."
"Well, tell him he can have your brain and I'll take your hot bod," Gale said cheerfully. "Oh, before I forget to tell you, I'm in New York."
"What?" Randy screeched. "You're here? Where?"
"In bed, right now," Gale said.
"No, I mean...where are you staying? Why did you call me for phone sex if you're here?" Randy demanded.
"Well, I didn't call you for phone sex. I called to tell you I was here, and you answered all sexy-voiced, and what was I supposed to do?" Gale asked. "But if you're not busy you should come have a lot of real sex with me now. My hotel's only fifteen minutes away from your place."
"Simon and I have a date to attend a poetry reading," Randy said. "He's probably on his way over."
"Oh, okay... so about twenty minutes, then?" Gale guessed.
"Fifteen," Randy said. "I'll just call him from the cab."
* * *
"Oh, fuck! Fuck!" Randy screamed as Gale pounded him from behind. "Fucking fuck me harder!" Gale pistoned his hips frantically as Randy clawed the sheets and yelled, "Harder, you son of a bitch!"
Gale was grunting with every thrust, and Randy arched his back and moaned, "Pull my hair, Brian!" Gale grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged so hard it felt like his head would snap off his neck, and Randy groaned and loved it and came like a geyser. He melted into the mattress as Gale finished. "Oh man," he sighed blissfully when Gale dismounted him. "That was amazing."
"Yeah," Gale agreed, lighting a cigarette. "You called me Brian."
"What?" Randy asked, alarmed. "No I didn't!"
"Sure you did. You said, 'Pull my hair, Brian!'" Gale said, looking around for an ashtray.
"Oh my god," Randy gasped. He stared at Gale, waiting for a reaction. Gale
said, "Hey, can you hand me that empty beer bottle?"
* * *
They had a lot of sex all night, and then a lot of sex the next day, but after splitting an order of room service quesodillas for a late lunch, Randy said, "It's been fun, Ugly, but I've got to run. My acting troupe is meeting in an hour."
"It takes an hour to get there? How far away do you meet?" Gale asked, noisily slurping the last of his root beer float.
"It doesn't take long but I've got to shower and change first. We meet two blocks away from my place; in Kendra's studio. You remember Kendra? Probably not, but you've been there before," Randy said as he dressed.
"I remember it," Gale said. "She had that costume party last year."
"It wasn't a costume party; it was a black party," Randy said. "Didn't you notice everyone was wearing all black?"
"Your friends always wear all black," Gale pointed out. "I just thought it was a costume party because of that woman dressed like a pirate."
"Beatrix wasn't dressed like a pirate; she wears an eye patch because of her chronic sties," Randy snapped. "And it wasn't very nice of you to yell, 'ARG, MATEY!' every time you saw her."
"You laughed," Gale reminded him.
"I didn't say it wasn't funny, I said it wasn't nice," Randy told him, heading toward the door. "How long are you going to be in town?"
"I was thinking about staying for the rest of break so we can be together, lover," Gale said sweetly.
"Don't even joke about that," Randy sneered. "I'll give you a call later so
we can fuck more."
* * *
When Randy entered Kendra's studio, everyone stood huddled in the corner. His first thought was that Pierre had faked another seizure, because Pierre was desperate for attention, and he marched over to the group purposefully to tell him to stop being a drama queen and get the fuck off the floor. But as he approached, the small crowd seemed to part like the Red Sea and there was Gale, grinning at him widely. "Howdy, Snooglyshnork!" He greeted, then looked at the others and explained, "That's what I call him."
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Randy spoke lowly, trying to remain calm in front of his friends.
"He joined our acting troupe!" Sasha squealed, gazing at Gale worshipfully. "Isn't it wonderful? Now we have two working actors in our troupe!"
"A dynamic duo," Gale agreed, throwing his arm around Randy's shoulders. "Now all I need is a place to stay while I'm here. I mean, right now I'm in a hotel but..."
"You can stay with me," Ricardo offered immediately.
"Stay with me!" nearly every member echoed, smiling at Gale like a pack of hungry wolves. It was all very Duran Duran.
Gale closed his eyes and spun around with one finger pointed in the air, saying, "Whoever I land on I'll choose." Randy reached out and grabbed his finger. Gale's eyes popped open and he said, "Hi, roomie!"
"Hi," Randy strangled out, fighting the urge to rip the finger off.
"This is going to be so much fun! It's like summer camp!" Gale enthused, then
turned to Beatrix. "ARG!!!"
* * *
"Where should I put my stuff, roomie?" Gale asked, pushing past Randy and striding through the apartment straight into the bedroom. He plopped his luggage onto Randy's bed and unzipped the first suitcase. "Did you already clear out drawers for me?"
"No, I didn't clear out any fucking drawers for you! These are my fucking drawers and I'm not clearing them out for anybody," Randy barked. "You can live out of your suitcases for-- what the fuck are you doing?!"
"You're right, you shouldn't have to move your stuff. I'll just shove in where I can," Gale said, dumping his underwear into the top dresser drawer with Randy's. He mixed them all together while he was at it. "You can't even tell whose is whose! Feel free to just wear mine if you want."
"Did... that just happen?" Randy shook his head, blinking profusely.
"What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine," Gale sing-songed teasingly as he combined their sock supplies. "Just kidding, roomie! Ha, ha! Share and share alike!"
"Don't even think about shoving your big stupid feet into my socks," Randy threatened. "I swear to god if I see you cramming your gargantuan hooves into--" His cell phone rang, interrupting his rant. He answered it brusquely, "What?"
"Precious, it's me," Simon replied. "Are we still on for dinner tonight?"
"Uh, I don't think I'll be able to make it," Randy said, glancing at Gale as he hung his clothes in the closet. "I'm dogsitting."
"Dogsitting? For whom?" Simon asked.
"For... well, not quite dogsitting, really," Randy said. "It's more like... the thing is, I got called back to Toronto to start filming early." Gale looked at him curiously and he pointed at the phone and mouthed Simon's name.
"Well, can I come see you before you go? I could help you pack, darling," Simon offered. "You know I love to service you."
"Um, no... I'm already on the airplane," Randy said. "We're about to take off."
"Oh... are you allowed to be on your cell phone?" Simon wondered, sounding concerned.
"Well, no. What I meant is that they're about to start boarding," Randy explained. "They're about to start boarding the plane, and then we'll take off. Is what I meant."
"ALL ABOARD!" Gale shouted helpfully. "ALL YE LANDLUBBERS, AHOY!"
Randy shook his fist at Gale and said, "Um, I gotta go. I'll call you later, okay?"
"Okay, be careful, dearest! Talk to you soon, I--" Simon was still talking when Randy hung up.
"You fucking idiot! Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Randy hollered at Gale.
"It's the little things that make it convincing," Gale told him. "Like remember on the show, when I had to make out with your butt while you fell asleep and I shoved my tongue in your asscrack? The devil is in the details."
"The devil is in my apartment," Randy corrected him. "And if I wasn't about to fuck his hot ass, I'd be kicking it."
"You mean me, right?" Gale verified, taking off his pants.
"Oh god, make it stop," Randy moaned, burying his face in his hands. But when
Gale was naked and spread facedown on his bed, he was, at least temporarily,
mollified.
* * *
The troupe was currently working on selected scenes from West Side Story. Randy was Tony and Beatrix was Maria, and though they had long since assigned roles, the troupe was small so there was plenty left for the taking. Gale decided to be Johnny from the Jets. After announcing his choice, he quickly tied his t-shirt up to bare his midriff.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Randy growled.
"I'm getting into character," said Gale. "Johnny's the gay one, isn't he?"
"He's not gay! There aren't any gay Jets!" Randy yelled.
"Sure he is. The gay one in every street gang is named Johnny," Gale said.
"What?! Where the hell did you get that from?" Randy asked.
"Um, The Outsiders... The Wild One," Gale listed, ticking them off on his fingers.
"Marlon Brando isn't gay in The Wild One!" Randy screeched. "He's in love with the sheriff's daughter!"
"Really?" asked Gale. "I've never seen it."
"Arg!" Randy cried in frustration, then felt guilty when Beatrix gave him an
injured look.
* * *
"Did you eat my Count Chocula?" Gale asked, coming into the bedroom with the empty box.
"No, I did not eat your Count Chocula! Do I seem like the kind of person that goes around eating other people's Count Chocula?" Randy scowled, pulling the comforter over his head.
Gale said, "Well, it's just that I remember there was some left yesterday, but today I pulled the box out and it's empty, so I--"
Randy flung the comforter back and yelled, "Fine! Yes, I ate it! I ate every delicious morsel and I'd do it again! Now will you stop badgering me, for the love of god?!"
"Oh, um... sorry," Gale said. "It's fine. I'll just have some Boo Berry. No biggie."
"If it's no biggie then why are you harassing me?" Randy said, burrowing under the covers again. "Pour me a bowl too, will you?"
"I'll just pour one big bowl and bring two spoons," Gale said, kissing the
part of the lump on the bed shaped most like Randy's head.
* * *
"Good evening my darlingest precious," Simon crooned when he picked up the phone. "How's filming going?"
"Filming?" Randy asked dumbly, then remembered. "Oh, filming is great! How are things with you?"
"All's well, but I'm a little concerned. Sweetness, I'm in a cab right now, and I just passed your apartment and saw the lights on," Simon told him, "and what looked to be a naked man having a seizure inside. Is Pierre house-sitting for you?"
"Um, yes," Randy said, eyeing Gale as he danced nude around the living room. "I told him he could stay here-- I mean, there-- because he's having some money problems. Don't mention it to him, okay? He's a little embarrassed."
"I wouldn't dream of it, darling-heart," Simon assured him. "Well, okay, I was just making sure things were legit."
"They're very legit," Randy said. "They're too legit to quit." As soon as the words left his mouth he winced and silently damned Gale and his Hits of the '90s CDs.
"I'm glad to hear it," Simon said. "I hate to cut this short, my treasure, but I've got this interview with--"
"No, that's fine," Randy said, taking the pipe Gale was handing him. "I'm in the middle of, um, memorizing lines and stuff. I better go. I'll call you sometime, okay?"
"I look forward to it, my resplendent--" Randy hung up.
* * *
In a tragic accident involving a horse-and-carriage, three angry nuns and a bullhorn, Beatrix ended up in the hospital with an amputated leg. When they heard the news, the troupe went en masse to visit and bring get-well gifts, Gale trying his damnedest to persuade her to forego a prosthetic limb in favor of a peg.
When they reconvened at the next meeting, the issue at hand was who would take over Beatrix's part as Maria? Gale volunteered immediately, but all the women in the troupe wanted the part, too. They decided that the only fair way to choose was to hold a pageant of sorts, and each contender would come dressed in character and explain why he or she was best for the role.
Gale made a stunning Amazon Maria in a curly black wig and an eyeliner mole
drawn above his upper lip. "I already know the part and I'm used to having fake
sex with Randy," he reasoned, and it was pretty much a done deal.
* * *
"We are just like Tony and Maria," Gale said as he force-cuddled Randy after sex one night.
"No we're not," Randy said.
"Sure we are," Gale said.
"How are we like Tony and Maria?" Randy asked.
"How aren't we?" Gale countered.
"Well for starters, I'm not in a street gang and you're not Puerto Rican."
"The acting troupe is kind of a gang, and I'm Irish," Gale said, like that proved his point. "Plus our love is all secret and star-crossed and junk."
"It's not star-crossed; you're just too much of a pussy to tell people you're gay," Randy refuted. "Besides which, I have a boyfriend."
"I know! Simon is totally Chino!" Gale cried.
"Simon is not Chino. First of all, if Simon were Chino, that would make him your boyfriend," Randy said.
"Well, then he's Anita," Gale said.
"What are you--? Can you really be this dense?!" Randy marveled. "I am constantly amazed by it. It's like your looks and your brains are conversely related."
"Aw, Snooglyshnork," Gale blushed. "You say the sweetest things."
* * *
"...be able to pick me up from the airport, my loveliest flower?" Simon finished, and Randy realized he hadn't heard a word he'd said. He'd been preoccupied with spiking Gale's hair into a fauxhawk. "Um, come again?" He gave Gale a pat on his shoulder to let him know he was done, and Gale jumped up eagerly to go admire his reflection.
"Do you want me to take a cab or can you pick me up from the airport?" Simon repeated.
"From the airport?" Randy said. "What airport?"
"When I come to visit you this weekend!" Simon laughed. "Aren't you paying attention, sweetmeat?"
"You can't come visit me!" Randy squawked.
"Why not?"
"Uh... because I was planning to come visit you," Randy lied. "I was planning to surprise you this weekend!"
"Oh, darling, really?" Simon swooned. "When are you coming?"
"Um, Friday," Randy decided.
"Wonderful!" Simon burbled. "I'll be waiting at the gates with open arms!"
"Oh, no, don't do that!" Randy said. "I'll take a taxi and meet you at your place."
"Dumpling, it would be my privilege to--" Simon began.
"Look, you're not picking me up from the goddamn airport," Randy snarled.
"Oh!" Simon said, shocked at his tone.
"Um, I mean... it's not safe. You know... terrorists," Randy said.
"Right, how considerate of you," Simon murmured.
"So, um... I'll see you soon then," Randy said lamely, and hung up.
* * *
Gale stood by the door holding Randy's duffel bag and a paper-sack lunch. He handed them to him before safety-pinning a note to Randy's jacket. "This has your address on it in case you get lost."
"Don't judge me by your own idiocy," Randy said, tearing it off. "I'm not going to get lost during a ten minute cab ride."
"A pound of prevention is worth two in the bush," Gale tsked, smoothing down Randy's hair before grabbing him and kissing him passionately. When he let go, Randy stumbled. "Well... okay then. I'll, um, see you in a few days."
"Are you going to miss me as much as I'll miss you, Snooglyshnork?" Gale smiled.
"Yes," Randy said. "Provided you won't miss me at all."
* * *
“I’m so happy you’re here!” Simon gushed as Randy entered the living room. “It’s like a dream come true!”
“You’re telling me,” Randy said, thrilled to sit on a couch free of potato chip crumbs and cigarette burns.
“So, what do you want to do this weekend? We could go catch up with your acting troupe; I haven’t seen them since you left,” Simon said.
“Oh no, those, um, those hateful fucks?” Randy grimaced. “I’d rather just stay in and spend time with you.”
“You’re so right!” Simon sat next to Randy and hugged him tightly. “We never get to see each other, my dew-speckled rosebud! We must revel in every moment that we have! Let’s go do it!”
“It?” Randy said. “Um… you mean…”
Simon leaned close and said throatily, “Let’s make whoopee.”
“Oh, erm…” Randy stalled. “I’m still pretty tired from my flight.”
“That’s okay, you can just lay there,” Simon said. “I don’t mind.”
“Well… but…” Randy said, thinking hard. “I’m too hungry to have sex. Why don’t we order some Thai first?”
“Thai?” Simon asked, wrinkling his nose. “Muffin, you know I’m vegan. I can’t eat that stuff. How about I make us some tofu stroganoff?”
“Oh… sure,” Randy said. “Um, I’m going to go put on my jammies. I think I’m going to bed soon.”
“Bed?” Simon checked the time. “It’s only seven o’clock!”
“I know. I’m exhausted. I couldn’t catch a ride to the airport so I had to walk,” Randy lied.
“You walked to the airport from your apartment? Isn’t that like a thirty minute drive?”
“Yes, it took hours. Lots of hours. My legs feel like they’re going to fall off,” Randy said, hobbling to the bedroom with his bag. He shut the door behind him and sat on the bed to unzip it. Inside he found a big construction paper heart folded in half. He opened it up and read in Gale’s childish scrawl: I miss U Snooglyshnork!! See U soon!! Luv + Hot Fux Alwayz, Ur Ugly. Randy smiled just the tiniest bit and tucked the note into the bottom of his bag. He spotted something red; was it a t-shirt? He pulled it out and saw it was… a pair of Gale’s briefs.
Simon burst into the room holding two bottles of wine. “Which one do you-- oh! Darling, are those new?”
“Um…” Randy said.
“How sexy! Put them on,” Simon pleaded. “I want to see them straining over the gorgeous globes of your scrumptious ass.”
“Um…” Randy said.
“Let me see them,” Simon said, trying to grab them, but Randy spun out of reach. He didn’t want Simon to notice the nametag that Gale’s mom sewed into all of his clothing. He had no choice but to strip and put on the briefs, so he did. “WOAH BABY!!!” Simon encouraged him, then howled like a dog. “AWR-OOO! Let’s do it doggystyle!”
“Uh, sure,” Randy said as Simon ripped off his clothes and got on the bed on all fours. “Do you still have that blindfold?”
“Yes, my kinky gumdrop, it’s in the bottom drawer of my nightstand,” Simon told him, closing his eyes in anticipation.
“It’s for me,” Randy said as he got in position behind Simon and tied the blindfold on himself. He rubbed his clothed penis against Simon’s flat ass, willing it to harden from the friction. He thought about the red briefs and how Gale wore them when he played Superman. He’d put on the briefs and pretend to fly around the apartment, his arms held out in front of him as he made zooming noises. Then he would ‘land’ in front of Randy and ‘rescue’ him from something-- all the while narrating his own actions-- before scooping Randy into his arms and ‘flying’ him into the bedroom for some hot humping. Randy’s dick perked up at the memory of Gale’s sexy retardedness, and the idea that Randy’s naughty bits were currently hugged by material that often housed Gale’s naughty bits was oddly arousing too. He reached into the briefs and pulled out his cock, squeezing it as he hummed in pleasure.
Suddenly Simon moaned, and Randy snapped, “Shut up, will you? You’re ruining
it.” He forged on heroically; he would conquer Simon’s ugliness and fuck him
till he screamed, strengthened by the mysterious powers of Gale’s underwear.
* * *
“Good morning, my cherry blossom!” Simon woke him up the next day with breakfast in bed. Which might have been nice, except that the breakfast was bean curd and crappy vegan bread.
“I’m not hungry,” Randy said, pushing the tray away. He remembered the sack lunch Gale had sent with him-- a bag of chips, two fluffernutter sandwiches, and ten fun-sized Snickers bars-- and contemplated how to divide it to sustain him for the rest of the weekend.
“Pumpkin seed, what would you like to do today? I have a bunch of back issues of The Times; I thought we might have a crossword puzzle marathon! And I TiVo’d a four-hour documentary about the life of Willa Cather!” Simon jabbered.
“Ew, like I really want to watch a documentary about a dyke,” Randy said distastefully. “Why don’t we dress up like ninjas and buy Pay-Per-View porn instead?”
Simon stared at him blankly for a minute, then cracked up. “Oh, you are such a card! You had me going there for a minute! Where in the world would we get ninja costumes, anyway?”
“Some people have a whole suitcase full of dress-up clothes,” Randy grumbled. “So they can be ninjas and hardcore gangsta rappers and boy scouts and all kinds of crud while they watch porn.”
Simon looked at him funny. “Did you just say… 'crud’?”
“Do you think it’s edgy to have sex with stupid people?” Randy asked abruptly.
Simon gulped nervously. “Why? What have you heard?”
“I mean, there’s something rather edgy about it, don’t you think? Like, about being superficial enough to enjoy being with a vapid, yet incredibly pretty and fun-in-a-retarded way, idiot? And like, being comfortable enough with your own smartness to pair up with a dummy?” Randy rambled persuasively. “That’s pretty fucking edgy, when you think about it. In fact, it may very well be the most edgy thing a smarty-pants can do!” He paused, then corrected himself with a grin, “Edgiest, I mean.”
“Well, from a sociological standpoint--" Simon began.
“Ring, ring!” Randy rang, scrambling to find his cell phone and put it to his ear. “Hello? Oh… what?! The studio needs me to come back to Canada right now or else they’ll fire me and sue me and also they’ll force me to shave my head for the show?! Okay, you leave me no choice! I’ll catch the next flight out!” He closed his phone and frowned at Simon apologetically. “There seems to be an emergency…”
“What?” Simon said, confused.
“Looks like they’re forcing me to go back right now,” Randy grieved, yanking on his clothes and stuffing his belongings into his duffel bag. “I’m so angry and mad right now about having to leave you! Oh my god, the rage inside is nearly overwhelming me. I hope I don’t kill anyone on the way to the airport, just out of pure fury and sorrow at having to leave you.”
“What?” Simon repeated.
“Farewell, my, um, sugar… cube,” Randy called as he ran out of the apartment. “I’ll call you soon!”
“I’ll miss you, my--" Simon was saying as Randy slammed the door behind him.
* * *
When Randy arrived at his apartment, the door was open. Not just unlocked, but gaping wide open. And the living room was… a jungle. There were potted plants everywhere, probably a hundred of them. Ferns and skinny trees and spiky bushes and a few cacti and poinsettias were littered over every available surface, including the floor. Frogs croaked from somewhere and a parrot flew by.
Gale emerged from the bedroom wearing a loincloth and face paint. When he saw Randy, he grinned and said, “You’re home early, Snooglyshnork!”
Randy said, “What. the. fuck?”
“It’s a jungle!” Gale explained unnecessarily, his arms spread proudly. “I bought us a snake, too! But I can’t find him…” He noticed the open door. “Uh-oh.”
Randy dragged his hands over his face tiredly. “How much did this cost you? And what the hell are we going to do with all these plants?”
“Oh, I’m just borrowing them!” Gale said happily. “Except for the parrot. I bought him. But don’t worry, I got a good deal with him and the snake.” The parrot, as if on cue, pooped on the coffee table. Gale looked at the poop, then at Randy. “Um… I have an extra loincloth for you.”
Randy glared at him for a long moment, then said, “Well, what are you waiting
for, Ugly? Go get it.”
* * *
At the last meeting before Randy and Gale had to go back to Canada to start filming, the troupe went to visit Beatrix-- who was now living with her parents in Connecticut as she adapted to life as an amputee-- and performed their scenes for her. She was brought to tears by Gale’s rendition of “I Feel Pretty” and told him that knowing people like him existed was what kept her going when she got splinters in her stump.
“I brought you a special gift,” Gale told her. “I was going to keep it for myself, but customs probably wouldn’t let me take it over the border without filling out paperwork, so I thought I may as well give it away.”
“You’re so thoughtful!” Beatrix said devotedly, opening the shoebox he handed her. Inside of it was an angry parrot. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed as it hopped onto her shoulder and pecked cordially at her eye patch. Her peg leg thumped the floor happily as she turned her head to the side to see the bird with her good eye. “It’s the best present I’ve ever received! Does it have a name?”
“I’ve been calling her Patrice-Eloise,” Gale admitted. “But feel free to change it. Also, she might be a boy.”
“Patrice-Eloise,” Beatrix sighed happily. “Gale, you are my hero forever!”
* * *
After a minimum of biting, Randy allowed Gale to snuggle up to him during the plane ride to Toronto. “What do you think is gonna happen this season?” Gale asked idly as he played with Randy’s hair.
“Like I give a shit,” Randy said. “I’m hoping that everyone dies in a grease fire at the diner. Or maybe aliens land and anal-probe them all to death.”
“Maybe Brian will get cancer and Justin will shave his head,” Gale mused.
Randy balked at the idea. “Don’t be retarded. They would never shave these silken tresses from my beauteous, genius-sized head.”
“I bet you’d look good with a shaved head,” Gale said. “Your skull feels very round.”
“Your skull feels very hollow,” Randy retorted. “Anyway, I think that Justin and Brian should move in together. And then Brian should buy Daphne a kittycat and he and Justin should dress up like firemen and go to the gym after hours and have sex on a stationary bike. I think that would be the most romantic thing ever.”
“Brian would never buy a kittycat,” Gale laughed.
Randy said, “I know.”
Epilogue:
“CUT! CUT! CUT!” Randy and Gale broke apart and looked up at the director that stood next to them screaming into a megaphone. “Are you guys deaf? I’ve been calling cut for the last five minutes!”
“Oh, really?” Randy asked innocently, scowling when Gale’s fingers abandoned his asscrack. “We went skinny dipping last night-- in a platonic way, of course. Maybe we have water in our ears.”
“That or a wax build-up. You’re supposed to come in, SAY YOUR LINES, and then have chairsex. One would think, with all the hours you two spend in your trailers having private rehearsal, you’d remember the frickin’ scene,” the nameless director grumbled.
“Plus,” Gale told Randy, “you called me ‘Gale’.”
Fin
Feedback mcpofife or Undead Ted will
eat your brains.
A/N: This fic is a monument to Nonsense at nearly 9,000 words of utter
inconsequence! If you actually took the time to read the whole damn thing,
thanks! And I'd love to hear your thoughts on this monstrosity.
<3 mc pof ife
Disclaimer: No libel intended. I know no one. Also, I own nothing; least of all QAF. No copyright infringement intended. No sue, 'kay? Thanks.