Notes: Written for strangecobwebs in Midsummer 2006.
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"Cut! Callum, you're supposed to be dancing. Not just walking backwards. There's a difference, you know. Let's try it again."
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"Cut! Molly, you okay?"
"Fine. Just�dammit. Fine."
"Yeah, it's kinda slippery there."
"Thanks, Hugh."
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"Cut! Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Is it possible for you two to look at each other and not burst out laughing?"
"Hey, cut me some slack here, will you? Hugh's pretty funny looking."
"And you're a cunt."
"Okay, okay, let's try this again. Without the laughing this time?"
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"Cut!"
"God, I am so fucking sick of this song�"
"Yes, and we can tell. You're supposed to be having fun. Remember fun? It's something that we all used to have before you made me run this scene twelve billion times. One more time, guys. And let's at least try to get it right?"
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"Anything else, sir?"
"Yeah, you can suck my dick�"
"CUT! Cut, cut, cut! Okay, I give up. Fifteen minute break, everyone. Get your shit together, would you?"
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"Fuck," Hugh says, and Callum can feel the heat of their shoulders pressing together as Hugh leans on the wall beside him.
"Yeah." Callum lights a cigarette, breathes in. "Quit fucking up, will you?" he says, not looking at Hugh.
"Fuck you," Hugh tells him, letting more of his weight rest back onto the wall. "Quit laughing your ass off every time you look at me."
Callum pushes off the wall and paces across the alley, hands moving, tapping on the walls, spinning the cigarette, fingers tightening into fists. "I'm serious," he says, and he doesn't have to look at Hugh to feel him watching, the fucker. "I'm sick up to here of doing this scene."
"Serious. Right." Hugh's eyes follow him, back and forth. "When the fuck did you get so goddamn serious? Hollywood fucking with your head?"
"Maybe I'm just sick of your shit."
"My shit? Yeah, that's rich, Rennie. That's fucking classic, right there. My shit. Jesus."
"Yeah, Hugh," Callum says, spinning around and slamming Hugh back into the wall, too fast for him to react. "Your shit. Your endless fucking I'll never sell out, I'll never go fucking Hollywood bullshit. Look at you. You're doing a three second cameo on a show that probably won't run more than ten episodes. You're standing there like you're the fucking authority, like you have any right to judge me. Fuck you." He's right up in Hugh's face now, can smell lingering smoke from the cigarette that had fallen from his fingers when Callum pushed him. "Fuck you," he says again, lower, quieter, just beside Hugh's ear, and he can feel Hugh shiver through the thin fabric of his shirt.
Hugh jerks out of his grasp, puts out a hand as if to hold him off, but it just ends up resting against Callum's chest uncertainly. "Not here," he says, turning his head to look at nothing, and Callum's eyes sweep across the skin of his throat as he swallows. "Not now."
Callum leans in to taste the skin, quickly, barely touching him, and Hugh's breath catches. "Here," Callum says, feeling the way Hugh's fingers are trembling with adrenaline, unspent energy. "Now," and those fingers are tangling themselves in his shirt, pulling him in.
They're not kissing, just standing there, a little breathless, breathing in each other's air, each other's smoke. "You're fucking out of your mind," says Hugh, close enough that Callum can feel his lips move, but he's the one turning them, pressing Callum between his body and the wall. "This is so fucked up," Hugh says just before his mouth brushes against Callum's, tasting like cigarettes and gum. And maybe it is fucked up. Maybe it's been fucked up ever since the first time, in the midnight silence of the back of a tour bus, but fucked up is easy, fucked up is what they're good at.
Hugh's leg slides between his, pins him tighter against the wall, and he rocks against it, eyes closing, head dropping back onto the bricks. Hugh's hand is on his hip, pulling them together in an easy rhythm, his thumb slipping just under the edge of Callum's t-shirt, brushing the skin of his stomach.
Callum presses his lips to Hugh's throat, lifts his head to find Hugh's ear, runs his tongue across it, then a light scrape of teeth. Hugh gasps, his hips pushing into Callum with a quick stuttering rhythm, and Callum grins. "Been too fucking long," he says, one of his hands finding Hugh's back pocket, tugging him forward, and Hugh lets out a quiet mmm of agreement before reaching down to unbutton Callum's pants.
He lets out a small moan as Hugh's fingers wrap around him, and then Hugh's got his other hand clamped across Callum's mouth, his face right up level to Callum's. He shakes his head, once, his eyes saying shut the fuck up, and Callum nods. They're used to this, fast public fucks, the danger of being discovered any moment. It's half of the fun, half of the thrill, but the other half is all Hugh, feeling him hot and hard up against him as his fingers stroke Callum's cock in a maddening rhythm.
Callum pushes off the wall a little, arches his hips into Hugh's touch, and Hugh's grinning, right there in front of Callum's face, hand still tight over his mouth. "Slut," he says, and Callum flicks out his tongue, licks a stripe down the length of one of Hugh's fingers and watches as his eyes flutter shut, just for a second, before he pulls his hand away. "Bitch," Callum whispers, and Hugh tightens his grip on him, strokes harder, faster.
Callum's got one hand on the wall, bracing himself, and the other is resting against Hugh's lower back, just above the waistband of his pants, pulling him in tighter, fingers pressing bruises into the soft skin. Hugh takes the hint, thrusts a few times against Callum's leg, and Callum's so close to coming, so fucking close. He breathes out, loud in the relative quiet of the alley, and he holds himself there, right at the edge, with Hugh's fingers fast and rough around him.
He closes his eyes, lets his head tip back against the wall, and when he opens them a moment later, Hugh's watching him, eyes dark. "Jesus," he says, "you..." he trails off, shakes his head, and Callum comes, biting his lip to keep from crying out. "Jesus," Hugh says again, and Callum lowers his head to Hugh's shoulder, breathing in the scent of him until his legs stop shaking.
When he can move again, he pushes Hugh away, turns them so that Hugh's the one up against the wall, leaning back, hard and desperate, licking his lips as Callum buttons his pants back up. Then Callum's on his knees, and Hugh lets out a moan before he can stop himself. "Ssh," Callum whispers as he opens Hugh's pants, and Hugh goes silent, breathing slowly, shallowly, watching Callum wrap his lips around his cock.
Callum closes his eyes, concentrates on Hugh, on the taste of him, the heavy weight of him in his mouth, ignoring the fact that he's on his fucking knees, in an alley. Slut, Hugh had said, and yeah, that's probably true. But Hugh fucking loves it, keeps coming back for it. Fuck, he wouldn't even be here now if not for Callum. He came to see him, not to do some crappy three second cameo gig, and when Callum looks up at Hugh's face, he sees that. There's no fucking alley, no fucking show to get back to, just them...him on his knees and Hugh clutching at the bricks as he comes, his fingers sliding, scraping against the rough edges.
Callum licks him clean, buttons up his pants, but doesn't stand right away. He leans his head against Hugh's hip, feeling each breath, breathing in time with him. "Hey," Hugh says finally, reaching down to touch Callum's cheek. Callum gets to his feet, ignoring the way his knees crack. Hugh grins. "Getting too fucking old for this shit," he says, lighting another cigarette, and Callum takes it out of his fingers.
"Yeah," he agrees, but he knows they'll be doing it again in no time, in some closet, or some car, or the back of some club, because that's what they do.
A door opens, not far down the alley, and Molly's head appears. She raises an eyebrow at them, grins, disappears. Maybe it just means hey, time to come back in, but probably not.
"You sure you're not sleeping with her?" Hugh asks, stomping out the cigarette, and Callum grins.
"Hey, I wasn't the one who couldn't keep my eyes off her when she was dancing in there."
"Yeah, well, that cat food dance, it's pretty damn sexy, you know," Hugh says dryly, and he's not talking about Molly anymore.
"Hell yeah, it is," Callum says, and demonstrates as he goes through the door.
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"Cut! That's a wrap."