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There was
an old saying, "Familiarity breeds contempt." 
It was the beginning of the new season and Gale had been impatient to get 'home' to his 'family'. He'd missed everyone during hiatus. He always did, but this year their separation had been longer as a result of the shortened shooting schedule. They hadn't arranged a get together the way they had after the Season One hiatus. No, by this time they knew each other well enough that it was just good friends dropping by; no need for formalities like cast parties. Not until the official one hosted by Cowen and Lipman, anyway. He was happy when the phone calls started coming. Peter came in first, so Gale met him at a local tavern for some beers. Michelle was next; they did a meditation in the park on Saturday morning. Hal showed up on his doorstep, grinning like an obnoxious bastard, crowing about a new movie that he'd landed. The little shit. Scott was next and they hit the used CD stores. But Randy was later than usual. He normally got into town two or three weeks before the start of filming, just to settle in. Randy could be...intense, and he took his home very seriously. Gale never dropped by until Randy had a few days to settle in. But, by now he'd normally have received the 'I'm-in-town' phone call. So, when it finally came, it was kind of a relief. A message on the machine while he'd been out with Michelle at the park again: I'm here. I'm queer. Get used to--right. Stop by when you want. I've missed you. Gale didn't call; he just took it upon himself to drop in the next evening. He brought a small package of books he'd read during the break, hoping that Randy would read them, too, so they could discuss the finer points. He also stopped by the liquor store for some wine, in order to help get Randy's residual guard down. Randy always returned from the city with an aloof, cold feel. A few glasses should warm him right up. Randy's apartment was 404 and Gale liked that number. It seemed stable and dependable. Kind of like Randy when he wasn't being morbid or throwing a fit. He knocked three times and ran a hand through his hair. A guy he'd had never seen before answered the door. He was shorter than Randy and wearing fatigues with a black t-shirt. "Do I have the wrong apartment?" Gale asked, aloud. Had he gotten off on the wrong floor? The door swung wider and Randy stepped around the stranger. "Nope. You've got the right place." Hugs and kisses on the lips were exchanged before Randy turned to introduce him. "This is my boyfriend, Seth." Randy beamed and threw an arm over Seth's shoulders pulling him close. "Seth, this is Gale." Seth smiled and extended his hand. Gale shook it. Gale hated him.
"How'd you meet, ah..." Gale blanked on Randy's boyfriend's name, which was ridiculous because Randy had said it every ten minutes for the last hour. Suddenly he knew why Brian could never remember Ian's, (or was it Ethan's?), name. "Seth." "Right, Seth." Gale nodded and sipped from his wine again, glancing toward the bedroom where the new boyfriend had disappeared after graciously taking his leave, saying that he was exhausted and needed some rest. "He was working as the assistant to the director on the play. I noticed him and after a few days of catching him staring at my ass, I asked him out. He's amazing. I'm sorry you didn't get to see more of him tonight. You've got a lot in common." Somehow Gale doubted that they had much in common at all and he was willing to change every single one of his interests, if he had to, just to make that statement true. Gale smiled and motioned toward the balcony. "I'm going to have a smoke." Randy grabbed his own pack of cigarettes from the kitchen counter. "I'll join you." Gale leaned against the railing and looked out at the blinking lights of Toronto, his adopted home. He loved it here. Randy bitched about it a lot, but Gale could tell he truly liked it, too. "So, when's he going back to Manhattan?" Gale flicked ash over the edge and watched it fall into particles, spinning in the light from the windows below. "He's not," Randy said, grinning. Gale sucked his cigarette to cover the grimace. "He's not," he repeated dully. "Yeah, he agreed to come up here with me for filming." Randy took a long drag, blowing the smoke into the sky. "That was sort of the prerequisite for our relationship going anywhere. Well, one of two, really. He had to agree to move up here and he had to read J.T.'s Sarah. They seemed like reasonable tests of his commitment." Gale nodded. Randy continued, "I'm not interested in anything short term right now. And, I learned the hard way that long distance relationships don't work out." So the fucker wasn't going home. Where did this leave them? Where did it leave their friendship? Was Randy still going to come over on weekends to watch old movies or read together on the couch? Was he going to kiss Gale goodnight and touch his face with that look of longing? What exactly did this mean for him for God's sake? "Gale? Are you okay?" "Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I be?" Gale stubbed his smoke out and stuck the butt into one of Randy's potted plants. "You just don't seem very..." Randy licked his lips and paused, searching for the right words. He took a long drag and Gale watched the way his lips closed over the cigarette--plump, wet, warm. "You don't seem very happy for me, that's all, and usually you're always happy for me when something good happens." Gale tried to smile brightly. "Randy, I'm sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind and maybe I'm a little jealous that you've found someone." He swallowed hard and noticed the odd look flitting across Randy's face. He amended quickly, "Because, you know, I'm still alone. I'm being a selfish prick and I'm sorry." "I thought you wanted to be alone. I remember something about wanting to sow some wild oats," Randy teased. Gale shrugged. "I guess I'm getting older." "House and kids bearing down on you, now?" Gale sighed. "Can we talk about something else?" He rubbed his hand over his eyes and said, as cheerfully as possible, "Tell me more about...ahh. Seth!" Thank God he'd remembered this time. Randy reached out and took Gale's hand. "Okay, but I'm here if you change your mind and want to talk." Gale squeezed and pulled away. How could he talk about this with Randy? What would he say? "Oh, I'm being weird because I have an irrational and unfounded hatred for your boyfriend"? No. No, that wouldn't work at all. He'd have to get used to it. Things change, after all. And this was just that. Change.
The next morning Gale stared at his bedroom ceiling. This whole Randy-has-a-boyfriend thing was really bothering him. He felt--jealous. "You're straight, idiot," he told himself, but the little voice inside reminded him of a guy named Sam and a few weeks of his life when.... "Okay, you're mainly straight. You're straight-ish. So, what's the problem?" Gale remembered the way his stomach had churned whenever Seth and Randy touched and he found himself thinking about the oddest things. Seth apparently loved Randy's hair and he spoke sadly of the plan to cut it. Gale, too, remembered the soft feel of it in his hands during sex scenes, the tickle of it under his nose as they spooned together on the couch together to watch movies--and it hadn't mattered that maybe guys didn't do that sort of thing, because they weren't 'guys', they were Gale and Randy and they kissed each other every single day, so they could spoon on the couch together if they goddamn well pleased. Gale listened to the birds outside his window. It was a sunny afternoon, he should be out. Doing. Something. Instead he was thinking about the fact that he'd always known Randy was a little in love with him and that was something he'd taken for granted, depended on, rather...liked. And now this guy, this interloper, this Seth had taken that from him and it hurt. He felt the loss like a wound in his side, an ache filling his chest and choking him. This was just how Brian had felt when Dr. David came along. He rubbed his eyes. Why did everything come back to the show? Were these feelings just a blurring of reality and fantasy? Still, he'd been angry last night. Pissed off that Randy would dare to bring a boyfriend into their lives. How were they going to spoon on the couch now? And it would have been one thing if the guy was tall, dark and looked like Gale, because then he could tell himself, "See? He's still mine." But no, this guy was blonde with green eyes and coral lips. And he was rather effeminate, more so than Randy. More so than Peter. Not quite to Emmett levels, though. And, Christ, it was making him mad to think of them having sex, to remember the way that Randy kissed and imagining those devouring lips being given over to Seth. Randy kissed like a demon, like he was sucking all of the cells out of Gale's body and was only gracious enough to give them back because he wanted to suck them out all over again. The worst thing was he also had images to go with the tactile memories. Randy on his elbows and knees. Randy naked and warm beside him. Randy's half-hard cock resting snug against his dark blond pubic hair. And then Randy's balls. Lightly furred, brushing against his leg, his hip. And in the dark of the night, in the id-place between waking and sleeping, he'd thought of licking them, thought of making Randy writhe and hearing those Justin-noises. Only they wouldn't be Justin-noises, this time. No, this time they'd be for Gale and they'd be all Randy. So, wow. There were a lot of things that needed to be examined. And now there were all kinds of choices he'd made over the last year that he was coming to question. Like his lack of a stable relationship. He'd said that he just wasn't interested in having one right now. So he'd been fucking here and there, getting his rocks off, not sticking around for any consequences, playing at being Brian Kinney or something. Was it really because he wasn't in the place to have a relationship, or was it because he was getting his relationship needs met somewhere else? With Randy. And, God, how unfair had he been to Randy? He knew deep down how Randy felt about him, and he'd let him have everything but the sex. Cruel. Randy was right to seek out someone who would commit and commit in a big way. But the biggest questions were the scariest of all. Did he really want to do anything about these feelings? Did he want to explore this avenue? And, what about Randy? Was he truly in love with this Seth? What if Seth never went away? What if he was here for keeps? And, as for himself, was he in love with Randy? Or was this all about familiarity and the sense of entitlement that seemed to come with it? Was he willing to set aside an identity, a way of life, for something he'd only just recognized? And what if he was wrong? What if he was reading too much into this? After all, doesn't everyone get jealous when their closest friends get new lovers, afraid that they'll be left behind? Maybe it didn't mean anything more than that. Really, why should it? The ceiling wasn't providing any answers.
The Cowlip party was always nice and everyone made sure to get liquored up on the big guys' tab. Gale was into his third drink before Randy and Seth made their appearance. He'd already circulated with the entire cast, greeting Thea and her husband effusively. Bobby had Kyan with him for a few weeks, before the next season of Queer Eye began shooting. Scott and Hal were one-upping one another with stories and jokes, and everyone was asking Gale, "Where's Randy?" Like he'd know? Then Randy was there, all cream and blue, wearing a shirt that brought out his eyes. How long had he been noticing such things, anyway? It seemed like it had been a long time. Seth was devoured by the cast immediately. Thea and Michelle had their hands all over him and Peter was smirking in a very approving manner. Randy just grinned. It was then that Gale noticed it. Amidst the greeting and the hand-shaking, concerned glances darted his way. Thea and Michelle gazed at him briefly before returning their attention to the new arrivals. Hal came over and touched him on the arm, saying, "Let me get you another drink," as though Gale wasn't standing right next to the bar. Cowen joined him, gave him a long once over, then tried to engage him in some conversation about the U.S. soccer team. Gale couldn't remember it later. Randy finally broke away from Seth and made his way to the bar. He ordered two rum and cokes, before turning to Gale with a frown. "Why haven't you been returning my phone calls?" Cowen gracefully excused himself, leaving Gale to face Randy alone. "I've been busy, that's all." Gale smiled and scratched at his unshaven face. "Besides, I figured you were busy, too. It isn't easy setting up house with someone else, you know? I thought you could use your space." "But you haven't even returned my phone calls. That's not giving someone space, that's just ignoring them, entirely." Gale shrugged. Randy could always see through his bullshit. He opted for just not replying. What excuse could he give that wouldn't sound like a passive-aggressive girl? Randy studied Gale's face in prolonged silence. "I see." Gale closed his eyes and took a long sip. Randy sounded pissed. "Just admit that you don't like him and we'll move on from there, okay?" Gale blinked rapidly. "Don't like him? I don't even know him." That seemed like a good dodge. It was true enough and didn't sound remotely like, "It's not that I don't like him. It's that I fucking hate him!" which is what he really wanted to say. "I don't give a fuck what you say, you've been avoiding me," Randy stated, conclusively. Gale thought about Brian Kinney, thought about Justin Taylor, thought about what the hell he should say when he was called on his shit and he didn't want to face reality yet. Oh, thank God. Saved by the Hal. "Randy, Seth told me that you ran into Paris Hilton in Manhattan and she nearly spazzed out when she recognized you. Why doesn't shit like that happen to me?" Gale took the offered reprieve and slipped out of the room. He headed for the restrooms, splashed some water on his face and studied his eyes in the mirror. Hazel, gold, brown, green. Just like always. Why did everything look so different? He needed to get stoned. Fuck this party. He'd said hi to everyone. It was time to go.
Gale wasn't sure who knew what anymore. He was getting sympathetic looks and glances from everyone on set and it was making him paranoid. Especially when Thea wrapped her arm around his waist and said, "You'll always be first with him, you know." Gale hadn't even bothered to answer. Seth was on set--a lot. More than anyone was really comfortable with, but Randy had assured everyone that it was just for the first few days of filming because Seth was so eager to see how a television show was made. Everyone was pretty indulgent, because they'd never seen Randy so accommodating with anyone before. The first day of filming he and Randy avoided each other, but just as he was getting ready to leave for home, Randy pulled him aside. "I'm really pissed at you." Gale sighed. "I'm sorry." "That isn't going to cut it. You've been a real prick and I don't understand why." Randy bit his lip and looked away. "I'm finally happy and you just seem angry for some reason." Randy looked so young suddenly and Gale was reminded of the difference in their ages. He felt that protective urge surge through him and he pulled Randy in for a hug. He was relieved when Randy didn't protest. They rocked together for a long time and Gale swallowed convulsively to keep back words that he wasn't ready to say and that Randy couldn't be ready to hear. He finally settled on a portion of the truth. "I'm sorry. I'm a bastard. I guess, I just wasn't expecting it, you know?" He spoke against Randy's hair, the long strands tickling his lips. "I've had a difficult break and I was looking forward to something familiar, something comfortable and this was just a surprise, you know? It threw me off and I was being a shit about it." Randy clung a little tighter and said, "Things haven't changed between us, Gale, and I don't want them to." Gale stifled a snort. If only Randy knew how much things had changed, if only he knew the kinds of thoughts he'd been having and how far he'd gone in his fantasies. All the way to a house in Malibu and two golden retrievers. Fuck, he might just be gay. "Imagine you'd come back and I had a girlfriend living with me, you know?" Randy stiffened. His arms gripped tightly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." "So, I'm sorry. We're good, right? And I'll stop being such a fucker." "We're good." Randy kissed his neck and let go. "I love you." "I love you, too." Gale saw Seth standing a few feet away, gazing at them with a hurt expression. Randy, oblivious, grinned and added the usual disclaimer. "In a purely platonic, heterosexual kind of way, right?" Gale pecked him on the lips again. "Sure."
Things went fairly well after that until the fifth day of shooting. Randy came to Gale's trailer and sat down at the table brooding. Gale felt a surge of joy. Maybe things had already headed south and he could lend a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on. Then things could go back to normal, back to the way they should be. Randy sighed deeply and Gale said, "Everything okay?" "We need to talk." Usually these were dreaded words, but today they were actually a balm to his spirit. He put his paperback down--some angry poetry that an ex-girlfriend sent him when they broke up. "Gale, this is really awkward." "Yeah. No kidding." Randy looked at him strangely and continued, "Seth is jealous of you and despite everything I've told him about us being just friends, about you being straight, about me being in a relationship with him for God's sake, he's still squeamish about your place in my life." Gale nodded. Randy wouldn't take that kind of bullshit. Seth had written his own termination letter. Signed and sealed. It was only a matter of time until it was delivered. "That sucks." "Yeah, it really does. I'm exhausted with it and it's just--" Randy pinched the bridge of his nose and made a humming sound. "Never mind. Obviously, you're important to me; we've been friends, the best of friends in a way, for the last three years and I wouldn't trade that for anything." Exactly. And that was why Seth was history. "And, I really hope that he hasn't done or said anything that's made you feel like you aren't welcome at our place or that I don't still love you." "No, no. Of course not." Gale lounged back in his seat with an easy smile and crossed his legs. "Good." Randy leaned forward, resting his hand on Gale's knee. "So, in light of all of this, I have a favor to ask, but I'll understand completely if you say no." "Like I'd say no to anything you asked of me," Gale said, winking, sliding into the familiar sexual joking between them. Randy didn't take the bait. "As you know, tomorrow's the first sex scene--" Well, this wasn't the topic of conversation that he'd expected, but he could wait until Randy was ready to discuss the problems with Seth some more. He didn't want to appear overly interested, after all. "Yeah, I was looking at the script and based on that sex-meeting, it looks pretty intense, you know? Been doing cardio this summer to stay in shape?" "--well, no, I mean, yes. I mean, let me finish, please." "Sure. Sorry," Gale "I know that we usually film on a closed set, but I was hoping that just this once, if you wouldn't mind, maybe we could let Seth view the filming. I keep telling him that it's all acting and there are people watching--but I think he'd understand better if he could see for himself." Well, that wasn't what he'd been expecting. At fucking all. "I--" Gale started, but he really didn't know what to say. He wanted to say no, he wanted to say, "What the fuck are you thinking?" But he didn't want to speak out of the jealousy gnawing in his stomach because long nights of thinking hadn't gotten him any closer to deciding if he'd even want to pursue anything if Seth were gone. And, wait a minute--yeah, he'd said it was only acting a million times in the past, but why did it feel like someone stabbing him in the heart when Randy said it? "Like I said, I understand if you don't want to let him watch." Let him watch? Watch his boyfriend make out with his co-star? Watch them get naked and roll around on the bed? Watch while Gale pretended to fuck him? And how, exactly, would that feel to Seth? Because he was damn sure that Seth had never fucked Randy, the self-described 'articulate top'. "Earth to Gale." It could be interesting. It could be cruel. It could be a test. "Come in Gale." Something to see if the kid could deal with the fact that Randy was his in this reality, in this way, in a place where Seth could never have him. And, Christ, he didn't know he was such a sick fuck. He'd never realized that he was desperate enough to grasp at straws like this. "Gale?" He swallowed and smiled, pretending that he'd just been thinking about the question at hand. "Sure, you know. Yeah. I mean, when you're naked for four guys, you may as well be naked for five." Randy laughed. "My thoughts exactly."
He greeted Seth with a false show of enthusiasm when Randy brought him in for the scene. He watched as Randy placed Seth in a chair out of the way of the cameras. "Now, don't move around, okay? Stay there and be very quiet." What? Was Seth four? "Aye, aye, Cap'n," Seth replied. Randy grabbed his chin and kissed him hard. "You're so fucking cute." Gale turned away. He hadn't needed to see that. He concentrated on getting ready for the scene. He was supposed to start kissing Justin on the bed, then drag him over to a support column and fuck him standing up. It was supposed to be extremely passionate, like Brian can't get enough of Justin's skin and hair and body. He could do that. Randy appeared at his side, stripped to his underwear and in his robe. Gale tightened the sash around his own robe. "Are you ready to fuck me silly?" Gale forced a smile. "Sure. I'm always up for fucking you silly." "It's because I'm irresistible. I'm a force to be reckoned with. I can convert even the straightest man." Randy puffed his chest out and looked cocky as hell. Rather than play along, Gale muttered, "I was never that straight." Randy knitted his brows together. "What?" "Nothing. Let's do this thing." When Gale crossed toward the bed, the camera men and director scrambled into position. They'd been ready for awhile and due to the delicacy of these scenes, they always let the actors lead as far as deciding when the cameras roll. Randy followed behind him looking a little perplexed, but as soon as he shed his robe, he was Justin and Randy was gone, gone, gone. Gale closed his eyes and thought that he should be trying to get into character, that he should be Brian getting ready to fuck Justin-- But all he wanted to do was to prove his point, even though Randy had no idea there was a point to prove. Brian Kinney and his motivations slid to the wayside and he didn't even try to get them back. "Action." The lines came out just fine considering he was so far from Brian Kinney right now that he might as well be on the moon. Randy seemed to sense something was off, though; glimpses of him peered out of Justin's eyes. Then the kiss. The familiar taste of Randy's lips, the soft curl of his tongue and he let it go. He kissed him hard, wet and deep. Randy responded in kind, but when he pulled back there was fear in Randy's eyes. He didn't stop. He dove in for another kiss and the moan that came from Randy's throat wasn't the typical Justin noise, it was deeper, longer and a little frightened. Following the script, he pulled Randy from the bed and walked him backwards toward the support column, all the while mouthing his neck, his jawline, pawing his pale skin and, in an unscripted move, sliding his hands down into his underwear, cupping his ass. He heard the director's call of approval. "Hot! Keep it up! This is great!" He moved against Randy with liquid thrusts and Randy's hips responded. A wounded moan accompanied the press of Gale's erection against Randy's hip. He could tell that Randy sensed something was different, something was wrong. He felt it in Randy's lips, in his hands. Gale moved faster, sliding his mouth down Randy's neck, gripping his hair and holding him roughly against the column, pleased to find that Randy's cock was hard and grinding into his thigh. Suddenly, Randy shoved at him, yelling, "Cut! Cut!" Gale stumbled back, dazed and aching for more. Somewhere in the background the director asked if everything was okay, but all Gale understood were the betrayed blue eyes staring up at him, all he heard was the whispered, "Fuck you." Randy poked him in the chest hard and said again, furiously, "FUCK.YOU." The room was silent and Gale stood trembling, face on fire, erection wilting, and heart pounding in this throat. Randy stalked off without another glance. The director and cameramen stared at Gale in shock. He didn't know what to do. If he were Brian Kinney, he'd say something, but he wasn't and he'd screwed up big time. Seth stumbled by in pursuit of Randy. Gale wiped the back of his hand over his lips and took the robe offered to him, sucked in a deep breath and walked off the set, went into his trailer, grabbed his keys, walked back out, got into his car and drove. And drove. And drove.
It didn't take him very long to realize that he'd left in nothing but underwear and a robe. Luckily the heater in his truck was efficient or he might have frozen his balls off. He considered going home for some clothes, but he didn't want to be anywhere that they could find him. It was best to keep driving. And driving. He got off the main roads and tried to get lost. It seemed amusing and fitting in his state of mind to get lost or run out of gas in the middle of nowhere clad in next to nothing. It was just his luck that all roads lead to Rome, because no matter how hard he tried, he ended up back on the road to his apartment. He finally gave in to the inevitable and let his truck guide him home. He ran barefoot over the frozen ground, cursing as he sank into a patch of snow. It was fucking freezing. He stumbled into the building. And, Christ, could the elevator be any slower? The doors opened to Randy standing by his apartment, hands in his pockets, eyes closed and face drawn. Gale considered taking the elevator back down and running again. "I know you're there." Randy's deep rumble floated down the hall and Gale knew that it was pointless to postpone the inevitable. He walked by Randy without a word and opened the door. Gale headed to his bedroom with Randy on his heels, walked into the bathroom and started running the tub; the warm water felt achingly good against his frozen hands. Randy stood propped in the doorway, watching the bathtub fill, arms crossed over his chest and his blond hair flopped down into his eyes. Gale let his robe fall and climbed in. Maybe Randy would just go away if he got naked. After what he'd done today, he wouldn't be surprised if he did. The water lapped at his body as he slid down so that just his mouth, nose and eyes were exposed. The water pounded in this underworld and he welcomed its silencing rhythm. He kept his eyes shut and took a deep breath, enjoying the stinging-prickling as his numb feet recovered from the shock of the snow. He finally raised up to shut off the tap and wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed to find Randy sitting by the bath, on the closed toilet seat, elbows on knees and his face a twisted rendering of concern and anger. Gale rubbed his fingers over his eyes and rested his head against the back of the tub. It was times like this when he knew how Brian Kinney felt--cornered by his own fuck-ups and poor decisions, knowing the blame is coming, ready to take it on, but wishing that someone, anyone, would just recognize how much he was hurting. "What the hell, Gale?" Randy's voice wasn't recriminatory; it held little anger, just confusion and concern. "Why did you do that?" What could he say to that? Was there any kind of good answer to explain that he'd wanted to prove to everyone, once and for all, that Randy was his, and that Seth and anyone else, should know that? "I got carried away," he muttered, water dripping from the end of his nose. Randy cocked his head, considered him. "Cut the shit. Can't you just admit that you're jealous?" "I did. I told you already--" "Fuck that! This is beyond the norm for a friend who's threatened by a new lover. I know I spoiled you over the last three years, giving you all of my attention, my free-time, my affection, but, Christ, Gale, you have to fucking let me go now." Gale's throat closed up. Let him go? Let him go? He couldn't even believe what he said next. "What does he give you that I can't?" Randy stared at him incredulously. He didn't answer, just lifted his hands and let them fall again, his mouth opening and closing helplessly. Gale stood up, splashing water everywhere, frustration and hurt coursing through him on the speeding train of confusion. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck!" Randy's eyes stayed wide and his mouth hadn't completely closed yet. Gale wrapped a towel around his waist, climbed from the tub and stalked into his bedroom. He pulled on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before flopping onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "You sound like a wounded lover, not my best friend," Randy said from the doorway to the bathroom. "Maybe that's how I feel," Gale answered, quietly. Randy crossed to the bed and sat down next to him, crawling over so that he could get a good view of Gale's face. His expression was soft and sympathetic. "Gale, listen, you know how I feel about you. I've been in love with you from the get go and I know that you can't feel that way for me." Gale opened his mouth, but Randy's fingers touched his lips to silence him. "Don't. I know that you love me, okay? I know that you love me a whole lot and I've let that feed me for three years. But when I left for hiatus this time, I told myself that no matter how much love we share, we're like Brian and Michael. You're never going to fuck me. You're straight, Gale, and you can't love me like I love you." Gale felt tears welling and closed his eyes against the wetness. He wanted to tell Randy that he was wrong, but he wasn't sure. He was scared. Terrified, even. He'd never felt so hurt and betrayed by anyone as he'd felt when Randy showed up with Seth. But was that the basis for a change of sexual identity? Randy continued, "And that's all right. We have what we have--and that's more precious than any lover. Do you understand? But, I can't stay celibate, Gale. And I'm not the kind of guy who's into casual fucks." Gale choked on a sob and Randy fingered his hair soothingly. Gale wanted to grab his hand and kiss each finger, kiss the palm, pull Randy down to lay next to him and bury his face in Randy's sweet-smelling neck, but-- "You're being selfish, Gale. I know you don't want to be and I know it's just an emotional reaction, but you are." Randy combed his fingers through Gale's hair. "I was really hurt today, really angry, when you took that opportunity to fuck with my relationship with Seth, to fuck with my emotions for you. You took advantage of me and that fucking hurt." Gale nodded and felt a tear slip out of the corner of his eye and down into his hair. He was a total shit. Randy's thumb slid over his temple, smoothing away the wetness. "Gale--" He took a slow breath. "Gale, what do you need?" Gale blinked his eyes open, a few more tears forcing their way out. He reached for Randy's arm and said, "Lay here with me." Randy smoothed Gale's hair back, kissed his forehead and slid into the open space under Gale's arm and tucked his face against Gale's neck.
Randy was gone when he woke up. It was the next morning and smoking pot seemed like a really good idea. He got a phone call from production about rescheduling the scene he'd fucked up the day before. Not only had he been a selfish son of a bitch, but he'd managed to arrange it so they'd both have to work on Sunday. Brilliant. He generally didn't smoke pot before performing. It just seemed like a bad idea to show up on the set baked, not that he didn't think he could pull Brian Kinney off while high. At this point he sometimes thought he could play Brian Kinney while dead. He sucked down a nice, fat joint and dressed for work in a pleasant haze. Pain was out there somewhere and he didn't really want to think about it. So he pulled on his sneakers, his rattiest button up and a scarf. Coat, keys, out the door. The set turned out to be buzzing with gossip. Everyone had heard about the explosion between the two of them yesterday. Everyone knew that Randy had stormed off and that Gale had left in nothing but a robe. He heard the whispers: I always thought they were a couple until Randy showed up with that boyfriend. Maybe that's what Gale's so upset about. Maybe Randy dumped him. That's what I heard. I heard Randy got sick of being in the closet about their relationship and dumped his ass. Gale just walked on without comment. Who fucking cared what they thought? He saw Seth standing by the table of coffee and muffins, so he turned and made a bee-line for his trailer. Hal intercepted him. "You and I need to talk. Now." In his trailer, Gale settled down at the kitchenette with a cup of coffee and waited for Hal to talk. "Gale, Christ, what happened yesterday? The rumors are flying and everyone is saying that Randy's going to walk out." Gale chuckled dryly. "Randy isn't going to walk out. How fucking stupid do you think he is? Besides, it was just a misunderstanding. He came over last night and we worked things out." Hal studied him for a moment and said, "Do you--I mean, are you in--" Hal looked away. "Listen, don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't think you're that much better of an actor than I am, and, well, I try, and I give myself props for giving it my best shot, but when I kiss another guy, you can just tell that I'm straight." Gale looked enigmatically at Hal over the rim of his coffee. If Hal was saying what he thought Hal was saying, Gale intended to make him spit it out. "Do you see what I'm getting at? I mean, with you, there isn't any of that. It's like, you--" Hal broke off, obviously struggling. "Gale, have you considered that you might be gay? Or bi? That maybe you're in love with Randy, too?" Gale closed his eyes and let his head drop to the table. He felt the pain bloom inside, despite the lingering effects of the pot. Love. Did he love Randy the way that Randy loved him? Or was it like Randy had said: they were like Brian and Michael, soul-mates without the necessary ingredients to transcend to being more than friends, to being lovers. "Gale?" Hal sounded sympathetic. "It's okay if you're confused." Gale nodded and rolled his head so that he could look at Hal sideways. "I'm so fucking confused, Hal. I think I might be in love with him for real." God, it felt good to say it, to have it exist outside of his own head. It was like a pressure valve had been released. Hal nodded. "I know, buddy. We've all seen it coming for awhile. Funny how you're the last to know, huh? Well, I guess Randy is the last to know, actually." Gale sat up and stared at Hal incredulously. "You knew? And you didn't say anything?" Hal laughed. "Are you retarded? Of course I didn't say anything! You might've slugged me. It's something you had to figure out for yourself." Gale slumped back in his seat, burying his head in his hands and rocking himself. "Do you want to talk?" Hal asked quietly. "No. Not right now. Thanks." "Do you want me to leave or stay awhile?" Gale motioned toward the door; his chest was constricted and he didn't know if he could talk. "Okay, I'm here if you need me, though. Anytime. Night or day." Brian Kinney was supposed to be a mess that day, his emotions all over the map and the director commended Gale for handling these challenging scenes so well.
Familiar legs around his waist, muscled, rough with hair and gripping him hard. Fingers twined with his, pulling him closer, a palm on his ass, urging him deeper. Hot, tight, heat, clenching. Oh God. Gale woke up shaking with orgasm, come spattering over his stomach and spilling onto the sheets. Love or just something familiar? There was nothing familiar about the lust that burned in his gut. This wasn't the casual erection of too much rubbing against an attractive person that you care for, this was soul-searing lust and he wanted to jerk off again just thinking of Randy's mouth on his cock, his ass in the air-- Fuck. He shuddered through an aftershock. Nothing familiar and yet the most familiar thing of all.
Randy made a point to spend time alone with Gale after their confrontation. He came over twice a week and spent the evening, "just like old times." But there was nothing like old times about it anymore. At least not for Gale. Now these evenings were protracted lessons in denial and frustration. Randy looking sexy and appealing in his comfortable clothes, laughing and sipping wine, telling Gale amazing and dark stories about the characters that lived in his mind. Gale would strum his guitar and smile, add his own thoughts to the conversation and fight the urge to pin Randy to the couch and suck him off. Once in awhile, Gale would make the effort to stop by Randy's and visit with the happy couple, just to prove that he had nothing against Seth and that he recognized their 'togetherness'. Gale knew that Seth hated him with the fire of a thousand burning suns. It amused him to be the only one to know that the feeling was mutual. He overheard a conversation between Randy and Seth as he waited in their living room. Gale and Randy were going to a play together and Seth was royally pissed, his voice ringing down the hall from their bedroom. "Don't think you're going to come back here all hot and bothered after spending the evening with him and then get to fuck me!" Randy's answer was too soft to hear. Seth replied, "Well, maybe I'm sick of being second all the time. I gave up everything to move here and you just expect me to be satisfied with taking a backseat to the straight love of your life? Fuck that!" Gale strained to hear Randy's reply to that bit of drama, but he could only make out the low rumble, not the actual words. Several moments later Randy exited the bedroom, folding up the cuffs of his overly big sweater. Gale had bought it for him at a vintage store at Little Five Points, in Atlanta a few years ago; they'd both been visiting 'home'. Randy grabbed his keys, slid his glasses on his face, which was schooled to a perfect shade of blase, and gestured toward the door. Seth didn't come out to say goodbye.
The night was chilly and clear. It was late, nearly three in the morning; they'd closed the place down. The walk back from the tavern was pleasant and Randy's cheeks were flushed pink from the cold. He looked beautiful and Gale couldn't resist throwing an arm over his shoulder. Randy continued his mini-thesis on his friend J.T. Leroy's latest book and Gale tried to listen, because he really did find it interesting, in that darkly morbid way that Randy could put on when he was in a scorpio-mood. But he also found it interesting to note how Randy was exactly the right height to fit under his arm and that his hair smelled really good. The light from the streetlamps shone against his skin and accompanied with the crystalized breaths from his mouth, Gale thought he'd never seemed more perfect. "Hey," Gale murmured. Randy stopped mid-sentence and looked up in interest, waiting for whatever Gale was about to contribute. Gale turned, trailing fingers up the side of his neck. Just as Randy's eyes grew confused, he said, "I want to kiss you. Really kiss you. Right. Now." Randy rose to his tip-toes clutching a handful of Gale's hair and they kissed hard, fast, hungry. The peace of the evening dissolved into violent passion, and Gale clutched Randy's hips, pulled him forward against his thigh. Randy responded with moans and rough tugs at Gale's hair. Things escalated so quickly that Gale was on the edge of coming. At the familiar tug in his groin, he cupped Randy's ass, buried his face in his neck and jerked as he pulsed hot, wet, and in his pants for the first time in years. Randy gasped and clung to him. Long moments slipped by and Gale didn't want to let go, but two guys standing in the middle of the sidewalk, holding each other and panting seemed like a bad idea. So he pulled away, buttoned his coat over his pants so that no one would see the stain. Randy adjusted his erection and took Gale's hand. They walked to Gale's apartment in silence. Randy kissed him by the door and said, "I need to get home." Gale stood, hands in pockets, and watched him drive away.
They didn't talk about it. Monday they filmed their scenes and Randy went home to his boyfriend. Gale went home alone, biting raging jealousy at the thought that Randy might be fucking Seth. Still, Gale didn't know what to say because he didn't know what he felt. And Randy seemed entirely adverse to discussing it, period. On Tuesday, when Gale said, "You know the other night?" as a prelude to a question, Randy stiffened and paled, visibly relieved when Gale continued with, "What was that bartender's name? I was going to get Hal to sign a picture for him. He was such a big fan, you know?" Randy said the guy's name was Jacob, kissed his cheek and left to film a scene between Justin and Deb at the diner.
The following Wednesday, Randy came home with Gale for the usual popcorn and a movie. They made out on the couch all night, writhing against one another, humping and groaning. Gale came twice and Randy came once, arching up and crying out loudly. Randy was gorgeous when he reached orgasm and Gale felt intensely emotional about it, burying his face in Randy's neck and breathing deeply. Randy went home. Days passed. They didn't talk about it.
The familiar taste of Randy's mouth, the feel of Randy's straining muscles under his palms, the unfamiliar whimper of true pleasure as he rutted against Gale's leg. Gale lay beneath him, looking up at Randy's face tilted back, eyes squeezed shut as he struggled not to come yet. Gale grasped his ass and pulled him in harder, tighter and Randy bit his lip, grunting and coming hard. And, they didn't talk about it.
Three weeks passed and there was no pretense when Randy came over. They didn't bother making popcorn; they didn't head over to the tavern for a few beers. They just shut the door and started kissing. Things progressed only so far, as though Randy had an invisible line in the sand about their physical interactions. They made out; they got naked and jerked one another off. When Gale tried to suck him, Randy pulled him up and murmured, "No, not that." Gale wanted to ask him about it, but he was afraid that if they started to talk, it would all fall apart. He kept his mouth shut and he waited.
He stood uncomfortably in Randy's living room, hands tucked into his pocket. He and Randy were going to see The Crucible and Seth had not been invited. Gale closed his eyes as the words from the bedroom drifted out to him. "You're fucking him, aren't you?" Randy's reply, though inaudible sounded like it was in the negative. "You must think I'm a complete idiot if you expect me to believe that crock of shit." Gale walked quietly toward the bedroom in hopes of hearing Randy's response. He caught the tail end of it. "...within the boundaries we agreed on." "Well, the boundaries we agreed on didn't include being in love with the guy. They were designed for one night stands and random tricks, for those times when we just can't resist." Seth sounded tired and resigned. A lot of the fire had left his voice since the last conversation Gale had overheard. "Seth, do you really want to do this tonight? Be very sure before you respond." Seth was silent and Randy said, "That's what I thought. Listen, I'm going and I'll be back sometime before morning." "Are you going to--" Seth paused. "Are you going to make love with him?" Randy didn't answer for a long moment and then he said, "If I give you a reply to that question, I think you'll have the answer as to whether you need to stay or go." Everything was silent in the bedroom for a long, long time. Gale held his breath and then he finally heard the stifled sound of someone crying. He blinked in sympathy and backed away from the door. He'd lost Randy once, too. He knew how Seth was feeling. A few more minutes passed and Randy appeared, smile in place and reaching for his keys. "Sorry that took so long. Let's go. I heard that Margaret Fantini is playing an amazing Abigail." And that was that.
Familiar skin under his fingers and Randy licked his lips hungrily. Gale took a deep breath and let the words come because they were true, and it was too late to stop them from being true, no matter how scared he was. "I love you." Randy gazed into his eyes as though measuring the quality and meaning of those words. "Gale, I love you, too." "I want--" "Shh." Randy silenced him with a kiss. Time slowed and when he spilled in Randy's mouth he couldn't seem to stop shivering. Randy held him and played with his hair. They didn't talk about it.
He actually heard it from Thea. Seth was gone. He'd moved back to Manhattan over the weekend and Randy didn't seem too upset about it. Gale felt her eyes on him, watching for his reaction and he thought he managed to keep his face carefully blank. Michelle sat down beside him and said, "Are you surprised, Gale? After all, you know him better than anyone. Did you suspect that things weren't working out?" Gale shrugged. "I'm surprised, but I guess everyone could see it coming, you know?" Thea's eyebrows lifted and she said, slowly, "Yes, I think everyone did--for a long time." He refilled his coffee cup and said, "Guess I need to check in with wardrobe."
Randy straddled him, jerking his cock with his left hand. Gale held Randy's other hand to his mouth, sucking on his fingers and biting the pads gently. "I want you. I want to fuck you," Randy said, his voice rough and his eyes dilated. Gale's heart went bezerk, but he nodded. It was now or never. All or nothing. Randy closed his eyes and groaned. "I was afraid you'd agree." Gale let Randy's hand fall and said, "The final frontier." Randy grinned and kissed his lips. "Strange new worlds." "New life and new civilizations." "Boldly go where no man has gone before?" Gale smiled, shook his head and said, "I hope you're not disappointed but you won't be conquering any new territory. There was a guy--Sam--more than several years ago--" Randy's face was priceless. He looked momentarily stunned, then suspicious, then he laughed so hard that he fell off Gale and buried his head in a pillow. "What?" Gale asked. "What? Was I not allowed to have fucked a guy before?" Randy rolled over, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "You told me that you were straight. I thought that meant you were, you know, straight. Fuck, if I'd known you were even--" Randy shook his head, still chuckling. "I would've tried for you years ago." Gale said, "Well, maybe I wouldn't have been ready years ago." Randy stopped laughing and propped himself on his elbow, looking down into Gale's eyes with a sweet expression. "True." "Twu wuv," Gale smirked. "Shut up or we'll never do this," Randy laughed, reaching over to his bed side table. "Everything in its own time, young padawan." Randy punched him playfully and Gale pulled him in for a kiss.
Familiar stretch that took his breath away, accompanied by Randy's soothing voice as he pressed inside. "You're okay, shh," Randy whispered in his ear as his body was folded in half, his knees hooked over Randy's shoulders. He would be sore tomorrow. Randy settled in against him and Gale tried to breathe around the overwhelming sensation. He'd forgotten and, Christ, this was intense. Randy lowered his forehead to Gale's, eyes serious and focused on him entirely. Gale ran his hands up Randy's arms and moaned, "Now, now." Randy's breath was hot in his face, sweet from the wine they'd been drinking earlier and Gale pressed up for a kiss, seeking the comfort of the familiar. Gale felt the fuck everywhere. He felt it in the burn of his hamstrings, in the chills that washed over him again and again; his thumbs tingled with overloaded sensation and he wanted to come. Randy kept him hanging, pressing into him and pulling out in a rhythm that was making him sweat and shiver with need. "Gale, fuck--" Randy's thrusts stuttered and he screwed up his face with effort. "Not going to last." Gale grabbed Randy's ass, urging him on. "Come, Randy. Please. I want you to come." Randy kissed him and said, "You okay?" Gale nodded. "Just want to see you." "You first." Randy sounded determined and Gale knew that voice. He would be the one to come first. The thrusts became harder and angled, sparks flew and Gale had to struggle to keep his eyes open and focused on Randy's face. He felt sweat sliding between them and Randy's rolling hips took him higher and higher, the world collapsing in on him until all he could feel was Randy's cock in his ass, moving and pushing him toward a cliff. All he could see was Randy's blue eyes focused on his face. "Gale, let it happen." He let go of the last bit of tension holding him back, barely managed to keep his eyes open and felt the world rush by him, fast, fast, fast. He quivered, whimpered Randy's name and even he knew that he sounded amazed. Randy stared into Gale's eyes and came, mouth open, eyes soft and wet, his cock pulsing long and hard.
They never talked about it at work, but of course everyone knew. It didn't matter because, despite the 'no fucking' rule they'd all made at the beginning, everyone had been rooting for them to do it for years. Randy made noises about returning to Manhattan at the end of the season. Gale hummed and didn't commit to his hiatus plans. He looked at his options, considered LA and thought about just staying in Toronto. It was over dinner that they finally talked about it. "Come to New York with me." Gale shrugged. "I'm not a big fan of New York. I'd rather just stay here." Randy was silent and he fiddled with his food for a few minutes. "Out of sight, out of mind." Gale laughed. "That's absurd. I've thought about you for three years. Well, four now. I think I can continue to think about you for a few months." "Gale, please. Come to New York." He was a little surprised by the note of pleading in Randy's voice. "What's the big deal if we're apart for hiatus? We can fly to see each other on the weekends." "People will talk." "And they won't talk if I'm living with you in New York?" Randy pouted and, fuck, he was good at that. "I can't fly on the weekends, the play--" Gale held up his hand and said, "Let's not talk about it, okay?" "If you're serious about us, if I'm not just some fuck to you--" Gale snapped, "Shut up before you say something we'll both regret." It was very cold to sleep alone again.
Gale shouldered his bags and climbed the stairs to the apartment number he'd been given in Randy's email. He found the key right where Randy said it would be. Gale smiled remembering the rest of the text. so in case you change your mind, you'll know where to find me. otherwise, i'll see you after hiatus. i love you. -R. Gale unpacked alone, putting his underwear next to Randy's in the drawer and setting out the few knickknacks that he took with him everywhere. There was a book left open on the arm of the sofa, so he sat down to flip through it while he waited. The scrape of the lock was the only preparation before Randy stumbled in, shock and then excitement spreading over his face. "Holy fuck! What are you doing here?" Gale grinned as Randy dumped his bag and took a flying leap onto the couch, straddling him. Between heated kisses, Gale said, "I've already read Sarah. So I've fulfilled all the requirements now, right? There's nothing else is there?" Randy's hands snuck under his shirt. "Only that you fuck me silly." "I can do that." Familiar arms around his neck and the familiar scent of Randy's shampoo. There was another old saying, too: "There's no place like home." The End
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