Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/202974.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Star_Trek_RPF, Actor_RPF
  Relationship:
      Chris_Pine/Zachary_Quinto
  Character:
      Chris_Pine, Zachary_Quinto, Karl_Urban, John_Cho, Zoe_Saldana, J._J.
      Abrams, Simon_Pegg, Rachel_Nichols, Anton_Yelchin
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, High_School, Alternate_Universe, Theatre, Making_Out,
      Frottage, Blow_Jobs, Rivalry
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-01-03 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 21688
****** Somewhere That's Green (or, Suddenly Christopher) ******
by the_deep_magic
Summary
     High school drama club AU. Karl just rolled his eyes. “Look, Zach’s
     my best friend, but he needs to learn how to deal with not getting
     the lead for once.”
Notes
     Warning: underage sexuality (both participants are 17), mention of
     past relationships
***** Chapter 1 *****
Little Shop of Horrors – Cast List
• Seymour Krelborn — Chris
• Audrey — Zoe
• Mr. Mushnik — John
• Chiffon — Winona
• Crystal — Rachel
• Ronnette — Jennifer
• Audrey II (voice) — Karl
• Audrey II (manipulation) / Wino #1 — Simon
• Orin Scrivello, Narrator, Wino #2, Customer, Radio Announcer, Bernstein, Mrs.
Luce, Skip Snip, and Patrick Martin — Zach
John gaped at the piece of paper taped to the whiteboard, reading it again in
case he’d been having a mini-stroke the first time.  It wasn’t that he was cast
as the cranky old Polish man – Mr. Abrams did always like to shake things up. 
No, the real surprise was the name at the top of the cast list.  And the name
at the bottom.
Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Karl wander up – and then felt a hearty
punch to the arm. “I just feel bad for the audience,” Karl chuckled.  “Denied
the sight of my gorgeous face.  My legion of fans will have to settle for my
mellifluous voice.”
John just stared blankly at him.  “Has Zach seen this yet?”
Karl’s mouth set into a grim line.  “Negative.  Does it make me a bad person
that I kind of want to be here when he does?”
“All I know is I don’t want to be within choking range,” John said with a loud
gulp.  “Somebody’s gonna die.”
Karl just rolled his eyes.  “Look, Zach’s my best friend, but he needs to learn
how to deal with not getting the lead for once.”
John probably wouldn’t have said that aloud, but he basically agreed.  He
didn’t begrudge Zach his talent, but getting lead roles semester after semester
did nothing to deflate his ego.  For the last few weeks, he’d been talking like
it was a given that he’d be cast as Seymour, but instead somebody named Chris
had gotten the part.  The drama club was a pretty small, tight group, so John
was surprised not to recognize the name.  “Do you know who Chris is?”
“Never heard of him.  But I saw this one guy run in late to audition – that
must’ve been him.”
“New kid?”
“I’ve seen him before.  I think he’s on the baseball team.  Or, I don’t know,
maybe not on the team anymore, because he sure as hell can’t go to practices
and do the play.”
It was so absurd that John felt his lips curve up into a slightly manic smile. 
“A jock swooped in and stole Zach’s part?  Somebody’s gonna die.”
                                      &&&
Zach knew he was being childish.  He did.  That didn’t stop him from whining. 
“Mr. Abrams, I don’t understand.”
The man smiled patiently.  “Zach, I know you’re upset.”
“I’m not—” Fortunately, Zach realized how ridiculous it was before he said it. 
“Okay, I’m a little upset.  What was wrong with my audition?”
“Absolutely nothing.  It was fantastic.  That’s why I cast you as Orin.  We
need somebody who can play a comedic villain without going too over the top.”
“But—” He dies halfway through the damn play, Zach thought. 
“And with the other small roles, you’ll have a ton of stage time, get to do a
lot of different things.  I think you’ll really like it.”
Zach knew he was being ungrateful and more than a little pathetic, but acting
was his thing.  It was just what he did.  And the fact that some new guy that
no one had ever heard of had just waltzed in and taken Zach’s place was just
not cool.  “What’s the deal with this ‘Chris’ guy, anyway?  Where did he even
come from?”
“The varsity baseball team,” Mr. Abrams said cheerfully, as though that fact
wasn’t going to raise Zach’s blood pressure to dangerous levels.  “Apparently,
he’s decided to try something new.  His audition was really impressive.”
Zach didn’t even know how to respond to that.  “Is this a real thing?  Like,
he’s really into this?  His jock buddies aren’t going to show up at rehearsal
and make fun of us?”
“Prejudice, Zach,” Mr. Abrams scolded, and Zach wondered if his teacher had
ever even met anyone on the baseball team.  Most of them looked hot in those
tight little pants, but that was about all they were good for.
“This is a good thing,” Abrams continued.  “We need some new blood around
here.  And if you’re going to act professionally, you know you won’t always be
working just with your friends.”
Zach shook his head.  “I still think this is a mistake.”
“Well, you’re entitled to your opinion.  But don’t judge him until you’ve seen
him do his thing.  Remember, he’s the one out of his element here, not you.”
Maybe he should stick to his element, Zach thought, but he said, “Yeah,
alright.”
“I think you’re going to love being the sadistic dentist,” Mr. Abrams said with
a grin.  “Getting in touch with your inner bad guy.”
Who gets fed to a frickin’ plant at the end of Act One.  Zach sighed.  He had
to get going or he’d be late to pre-calc.  “Bye, Mr. Abrams.”
“First read-through’s this afternoon!”
                                      &&&
It was a disaster.  Well, according to Zach it was.
The glimpses he got of Chris in between eye rolls only made him madder.  He
looked fresh off the baseball field – lightly-freckled tan, sun-kissed hair. 
The all-American boy next door.  There was no way he should’ve been cast as
Seymour.  No one would buy Mr. Blue Eyes as the lovable loser struggling to get
the girl to notice him.
The girl in this case was, unsurprisingly, Zoe.  She plopped down next to Zach
on the dirty old couch at the back of Mr. Abram’s classroom.  “Don’t look so
pathetic.  You know you’re looking forward to slapping me around.”
“Yes,” Zach groaned, “I can’t wait to be an abusive asshole.  It’s the role I
was born to play.”
“Nuh-uh, you are not complaining to me.  I’m not going to listen to that.  If
you’re going to bitch about your part, do it to John or Karl.”
“Nope, not Karl,” Karl said, sitting on Zoe’s other side.  “Karl doesn’t want
to hear it either.”
“And maybe Karl doesn’t want a ride home after rehearsal,” Zach sighed.
“Karl would rather walk than listen to Zach’s diva ranting about the unfairness
of the universe, especially since Karl is now the voice of a bloody plant.”
“Zach is—”
“Oh my god, shut up,” Zoe groaned, elbowing them both in the ribs.  “Zoe is
wondering when her friends turned into 10-year-old girls.”
“Aww, dammit,” John muttered, surveying the full couch.
“Should’ve gotten here sooner,” Karl admonished.
“Not my fault, I have to walk all the way from the art building.  Okay, so
whose lap am I sitting on today?”
Zach, Zoe, and Karl all managed to say “Not it!” at the same time.
John just grinned.  “Okay, all of you then.”  Without further ado, he stretched
out across all of their laps, propping his feet on one armrest and his elbow on
the other.
Mr. Abrams walked in, Diet Coke in hand.  “Guys, we talked about this.  The
orgy rumors didn’t just spring up out of nowhere.”
“Hey, three-quarters of us have our feet on the floor,” Zach protested. 
“That’s a pretty lame orgy.”
“Seriously.  If the principal walks in, I don’t want to have to explain Cuddle
Time to him.  Again.”
Karl glanced at Zach and Zoe, and they all jumped up from the couch at once,
dumping John unceremoniously to the floor.  Before he could get up, the three
of them sat back down.  Undaunted, John turned around and shoved his butt
between Karl and Zoe.  “Scootch over, ladies.”
The couch was absolutely not designed for four people, and Zach ended up
crushed against the armrest.  By then, most of the rest of the cast had
wandered in.  Rachel, who was both one of the street urchins and the stage
manager, was pulling a notebook out of her bag.  Jen and Simon were cackling
over something Simon had drawn in his notebook.   But Chris was sitting off to
the side, looking vaguely nervous.  Good, thought Zach.  A (large, ugly) part
of him hoped Chris would realize he was out of his league and leave.  Mr.
Abrams would be forced to admit his mistake and all would be right with the
world again.
But as soon as Zach had the thought, Abrams started clearing his throat loudly
until he had everyone’s attention.  “Alright, guys, time to get started.  Most
of you know each other, but I’d like to introduce you all to Chris Pine.  Chris
will be our Seymour.  You don’t scare easily, do you, Chris?”
He looked startled. “No?”
Mr. Abrams smiled.  “Good!  I try to keep the rest of these guys on their best
behavior, but it rarely works.  They can come on a little strong.”
“I think I’ll deal,” Chris said, smiling so widely that his absurdly white
teeth actually sparkled under the flickering florescent lights. 
When Zach looked around, he saw that the girls in the room were all gaping. 
“Shut your mouth,” he muttered, nudging Zoe.  “Bugs will fly in.”
“Don’t care,” Zoe murmured out of the corner of her mouth.
“He’s so dreeeeamy!” John exclaimed in a stage whisper, looking right at Zach
and fluttering his eyelashes.
Zach groaned and covered his face with the script.  “I hate you all.”
“Alright,” Mr. Abrams said, “enough of that.  Let’s get started on the read-
through.  Has everybody got a copy of the script?”
Of course Chris didn’t have his yet.  Zach was willing to bet he didn’t even
know anything about the play.  As Abrams handed him the script, Chris asked,
“Do I have to… I mean, are we singing today?”
“Not today.  Just read the lyrics when you get to them.”
Zach just rolled his eyes.  Did this guy know anything?
                                      &&&
Chris lucked out – the A/C in his car didn’t die until he was pulling into his
driveway.  He sighed at the sputtering noise coming from the vents, not looking
forward to fixing his piece-of-shit car again.  But at least the thing was
still running.  Maybe he’d see if Eric could take a look at it.  If Eric still
deigned to give him the time of day, that was.
Shouting a quick greeting to his parents, Chris headed straight back to his
room, dumping his backpack on the floor and flopping down on the bed.  It could
have been worse, he thought.  They could’ve actually thrown rotten vegetables
at me.  Zach could’ve leapt up off the couch and strangled me like I know he
wants to.
After a few long moments of self-pity, he decided he really didn’t want to be
alone with his thoughts, and headed back out into the living room, following
the scent of garlic and tomatoes into the kitchen, where his father was cooking
dinner.  “Smells good,” he said.
 “I’m under strict instructions from your mother to keep stirring this so it
doesn’t burn.  How was your day?  First rehearsal today, right?”
Chris groaned.  “Don’t remind me.”
“That bad?”
He opened the toaster oven, where the garlic bread was sitting to keep it warm,
and yanked out a large hunk to stuff in his mouth.  For once his dad didn’t
bother to scold him.  “I though’ thea’re people were s’posed to be all
accepting an’ stuff,” Chris said around the huge wad of bread.
“They are,” his dad said.  “But they also tend to be extremely protective of
their own.  It’s an insular little world.  I doubt they know what to make of
you yet.  Imagine if one of them suddenly joined the baseball team and took
over as first baseman.  How would your teammates react?”
“Not well, I guess.”  Actually, Chris knew exactly how they’d react, and it was
part of the reason he’d left the team.  But it was also pretty amusing to
imagine the crazy kid with the British accent staking out first base.  Did they
have first base in cricket?
His dad smiled.  “Have I told you how proud I am of you?”
“For what, quitting like a quitter?”
“For realizing you weren’t happy where you were and being brave enough to make
a change.  And maybe a little bit for giving the family business a shot.”
He just had to bring that up.  Chris tried not to roll his eyes – and failed. 
“Dad, I’m not gonna be an actor when I grow up.”
Eyes twinkling, his dad said, “Don’t rule anything out just yet.  And give the
other kids some time to get to know you.  I guarantee they’ll like you.”
It was such a parent thing to say, so Chris just nodded and went for the
silverware drawer when his dad asked him to set the table.  Privately, he
wasn’t sure any of the people he’d been introduced to today would warm up to
him any time this century.  Especially not that Zach guy.  Chris wasn’t so
oblivious that he didn’t know what an upset it was for him to get the lead role
– or who he was displacing.  Still, it had been a little bit of a shock to see
Zach holding court in Mr. Abrams’ classroom, sprawled on the couch like the
lord of the manor when Chris had walked in.  Chris was used to facing down
mammoth base runners who had probably been on steroids since junior high, but
the look Zach shot at him had nearly made Chris’ balls shrivel.  He’d expected
Zach to be a little hostile; he hadn’t expected him to be so… imperious.
Or so hot, a voice in the back of his head said.  Chris told it, in no
uncertain terms, to shut the fuck up.  He had plenty of other problems to deal
with.
                                      &&&
Zach spent most of AP U.S. History staring off into space.  He’d have to ask
Karl for his notes later, but his brain simply refused to focus on the Teapot
Dome scandal or whatever.  He knew he was obsessing, but he couldn’t help it.
Chris was actually good.  Zach had been certain everyone would see what a farce
it was until Chris pulled out his glasses for the read-through, shrank down in
his seat a little, and became Seymour.  All they were doing was reading the
lines on the page and Zach could already see why Mr. Abrams had cast him. 
Maybe that should have made it easier, but it only made Zach feel worse. 
The drama club wasn’t just Zach’s groups of friends; it was the one place where
he felt most like himself.  People said things about them – they were freaks,
they were gay, they were all sleeping together – but they didn’t care.  This
Chris jerk had no right to waltz into his circle of friends.  Even as he
thought it, he knew how petty it was.
The bell rang and Zach started mechanically shoving his things back into his
backpack.  Karl loomed over him as he did.  “Hey, man, what planet were you
on?”
“Huh?”
“Your eyes were completely glazed over the whole time.”
“Oh.”  Crap, Zach thought, Karl had noticed.  “Stayed up late last night
playing Call of Duty.  Can I borrow your notes?”
Karl rolled his eyes.  “Again?”
“C’mon, this is like the third time ever.  And who always looks over your
papers before you turn them in, huh?”
“Not my fault you’re a human grammar-checker,” Karl muttered, but he pulled the
notes out of his binder and handed them to Zach.  “I need them back by
tomorrow, though.”
They walked together as far as the science building, where Karl had to go to
physics, and Zach carried on to his English classroom.  They were in the middle
of Huckleberry Finn.  Zach had already read it twice, but with any luck,
talking about it would help him get his mind off Chris.
Chris, who darted into the classroom right in front of Zach, seemingly
oblivious to him.  He went straight to the teacher and asked her something Zach
couldn’t quite make out.  She picked up a book off her desk – a copy of
Margaret Atwood’s The Year of the Flood, Zach knew, he had one just like it at
home – and handed it to Chris.  Zach could hear her say, “Of course.  I didn’t
know who else it could belong to.  Just promise me you won’t read it during
your other classes.”
“Thanks,” Chris said, smiling shyly.  “I promise I won’t.”
As Chris turned to go, he caught Zach staring openly at him.  They only locked
gazes for a second, and then Zach quickly looked away, feeling slightly
ashamed.  When he looked back up, Chris was on his way out, hurrying to get to
his next class.  Zach tucked his backpack under his desk and sat down.  As far
as he knew, Mrs. Barrett only taught AP English. He couldn’t think of any other
reason for Chris to have left his book in there.
So it looked like this guy was smart as well as talented.  Fantastic, Zach
thought.  Next thing you know, he’ll show up wearing a striped shirt and Chucks
and they’ll just go ahead and get rid of me completely.
                                      &&&
Just about the only good thing about the situation was that Chris didn’t have
to try to keep the nervousness out of his voice as he read Seymour’s lines. 
“Hi Audrey.  You’re looking particularly radiant today.  Is that new eye
makeup?”
Mr. Abrams interrupted him.  “Okay, I want you to cross to Zoe while you’re
talking.  You want to get closer to her.”
Chris nodded as he reached for the pencil tucked behind his ear, but only
succeeded in knocking it to the floor for the zillionth time.  His numb fingers
fumbling as he picked it up, he quickly scribbled Abrams’ directions in his
script.  Zoe read her next line, turning away from Chris.  Then John read, and
it was Chris’ turn again.
“Chris, can I get you to cheat out a little bit?” Mr. Abrams asked.
Chris started to move, then faltered.  “You want me to… what?”  There was a
moment of dead silence, and Chris prayed for a sinkhole to open up under his
feet and swallow him whole.
Zoe took pity and leaned toward him, whispering “Keep your head facing me as we
talk but turn your body so it’s about three-quarters facing the audience. 
That’s called cheating out.”
“Th-thanks,” Chris stuttered, making another note in his script.  He could’ve
sworn he heard snickering from the audience, where the actors not in the
current scene sat, watching.  Where Zach sat.  But when Chris looked up, Zach
appeared to be simply studying his lines in the script.
Chris tried to shake it off, continuing on through that scene, then the next. 
Shit, he was on stage a lot.  He’d known that going in from reading the script,
but it was only now that he was truly realizing it.  And he had a ton of lines
to memorize.  How and when exactly was he going to do that?  Before Chris knew
it, he had broken out into a sweat and his heart was beginning to pound.
Then the scene was over and Mr. Abrams was saying, “Alright, let’s take a
break.  Five minutes, everyone.”
After an awkward glance around, Chris perched lightly on one of the folding
chairs that was standing in for the flower shop’s counter and muttered, “Not
like I’m gonna suck any less in five minutes.”
He hadn’t meant for anyone to hear him, but Zoe said, “It’s not you.  Y’know
how smokers have cigarette breaks?  Mr. Abrams has Diet Coke breaks.  He gets
the shakes without it.”
“Oh,” Chris said dumbly, still not quite able to look at her.
“You’re kicking ass, by the way,” she said, plopping down on the chair next to
him.  “And you’ve never acted before?”
“Well, I was Neptune in my second grade production of Meet the Planets.”
“At least you weren’t Uranus.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Andy Mills ever quite got over it.  And the girl who
played Pluto was doing fine up until a couple years ago when she found out her
whole life was a lie.”
Zoe snorted with laughter and Chris finally cracked a smile.  “Not like I
really absorbed all the theatrical terminology back then,” he said.
“Hey, a few years ago, none of us knew any of this stuff, either,” Zoe said
with an indulgent smile.  “Well, except for Zach, but he’s been on stage since
he could talk.  And he never lets anyone forget it.  Don’t get me wrong, he’s
my friend and a great guy, but he’s not Al Pacino just yet.”
Chris flushed.  He felt a little guilty for it, but he was secretly glad to
have found someone who wasn’t solidly on Zach’s side against him.  There were
so many things he wanted to say, to ask.  “What’s the deal with him, anyway?”
“He’s not used to rejection,” she said, “not when it comes to theatre, anyway.”
“Yeah, I feel… kind of bad about that.”
“Don’t.  He’s a big boy; he’ll get over it.  And he’s got me and John and Karl
to help him along.  I don’t think he’ll give you any crap to your face – he
shouldn’t, if he knows what’s good for him – but don’t take it.  Deep down, he
knows he’s being a petty jerk, so if you call him on it, he’ll stop.”
The crack of an opening can heralded Mr. Abrams’ return and everybody scrambled
to get back to their places.  “Hey, Zoe?” Chris said.
“Mm-hmm?”
“Thanks.  I’m really excited about the play, I just…”
“Yeah, it always sucks being the new guy.”
Chris hazarded a glance up at the audience, where Zach was sharing some kind of
private joke with Karl and Simon.  “Yeah, it does.”
                                      &&&
Zach yawned as he pulled into the mostly-empty school parking lot.  Rarely was
he happy to be out of bed this early on a Saturday morning, but they were
getting a head start on the set construction, which was tough to do during
after-school rehearsals.  People teased him about getting his hands dirty, but
Zach loved the process of creating a little world for the play, surrounded by
his best friends.
He’d almost managed to forget that Chris would be there.  But since he and
Karl, who he’d met up with on the way in, were a few minutes late, Zach arrived
at the auditorium to find John and Zoe already chatting with Chris.  Zach shot
Karl a look, but Karl didn’t return it, and Zach wondered if anyone was on his
side anymore.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” said Mr. Abrams.  “We were just about to get
started.”  He turned to the rest of the group.  “Alright, people, here’s how
this is going to go.  Karl and Simon, since you’re both Audrey II, I want you
to be the primary ones that build her.  Obviously, we don’t have the materials
yet, but I want you two to hash out what you want her to look like, how you
want her to move.  When you’ve got a rough sketch, bring it to me and we’ll
talk.  The rest of you will be working on the flower shop set today.  The main
builds are going to be the counter and the display cases.  Rachel has the plans
and will split you up to work on them.”
Zach had just started to take a step toward the group when Mr. Abrams
continued, “Zach, Chris, come with me.  I’ve got a special project for you.” 
Zach managed to stifle the groan, but he knew he’d grimaced when he saw the
answering look on Chris’ face.
They both shuffled reluctantly over to their teacher.  “Okay,” Mr. Abrams said,
an overly cheerful smile on his face.  “Our flower shop is going to need some
fake flowers.  Our budget limits us to the bargain bin at the craft store, but
I have faith that you can find us some good stuff for cheap.  We’ll need some
pretty drab-colored flowers for the beginning – probably end up distressing
them so they look mostly dead – but more and more colorful stuff as the play
goes on.  Talk to Rachel before you go, take a look at how much space you’re
going to need to cover.”
Chris just nodded mutely and started over toward Rachel, but Zach hung back. 
“Mr. Abrams, is it really time to be buying props yet?  Shouldn’t we be
focusing on the build first?”
“I think the rest of us have the build covered for now.”
“But, I mean… my character has no use for the flower shop.  Shouldn’t it be Zoe
or John going with Chris instead of me?”
“Don’t treat me like I just fell off the turnip truck and I’ll offer you the
same courtesy,” Mr. Abrams said, his smile neither faltering nor giving
anything away.  “You know exactly why I’m sending you.  Zach, you are
absolutely essential to this play, but unless you adjust your attitude very
soon, I will not hesitate to replace you with a freshman.  A really awful one. 
I may be a well-respected teacher of theatre, but I am not above a bit of spite
casting.”
Zach was pretty sure it was an idle threat.  Mr. Abrams took too much pride in
his work to screw up the play just to teach Zach a lesson.  Probably.  Zach
took quick mental stock of himself and found he wasn’t willing to risk it. 
“I’m sorry.  I’ll go.”
“Thank you.  I’m not expecting you to be best friends, but you need to be able
to work together.  I think you’ll find you have more in common than you
expect.”
Zach glanced over to where Chris was standing with Rachel, going over the set
design.  He was wearing baggy shorts and an old, paint-splotched t-shirt with
the sleeves torn off, which revealed a stark farmer’s tan.  And some really
nice arms, Zach’s treacherous hindbrain announced.  With a sigh, he ventured
over to the two of them just as they both started laughing, Rachel carefully
eyeing Chris’ bare arms with a slightly predatory look.  Wonderful.
“Alright,” Zach announced.  “You ready to go?”
Chris turned to look at him.  “I think so.  Rachel was saying we’ll have three
small display cases and a few shelves to fill, right?
She nodded, reaching in her bag for the money from their tiny prop budget. 
“And be sure to get vases.  Nothing fancy, just stuff for basic display.”  She
handed the money to Chris, who thanked her ever so politely, and Zach fought an
eye roll and the urge to say Get a room.
“Can we take your car?” Chris asked as they left the auditorium.  “My air
conditioning is broken.”
“Sure, fine,” Zach said, possibly not trying as hard as he could to keep the
anguish out of his voice.  “I get to choose the music, though.  None of that
country or hip-hop shit.”
Out of the corner of his eyes, Zach could see Chris’ head drop a little, and he
knew he’d just insulted Chris’ taste in music.  He felt a little bit bad about
it, but whatever, Chris would get over it.  Zach wasn’t about to apologize. 
They rode to the nearest craft store in painfully awkward silence save for the
radio, which Zach had set to an oldies station in a partial concession to
Chris.  Nobody didn’t like the Stones, right? 
Once in the store, Chris was all business.  “I think these will be cheaper if
we buy a garland and just cut them apart by hand.  What do you think?”
“Yeah,” Zach said.  It actually was a good idea.  “And we can use whatever
green stuff is left over to fill out the bouquets.”  He felt immediately
embarrassed to have used the word “bouquets” in front of another guy,
especially a jock.  “Or, y’know, whatever they’re called.”
Chris didn’t seemed to have noticed, and was already stretching up on his toes
to pull a less beat-up looking garland from the top rack.  “Yeah, I’m pretty
sure it’s bouquets.”  His t-shirt rode up as he reached, and Zach caught a
glimpse of flat, toned stomach and hips.
He looked away quickly, heading for the display of cheap plastic vases.
They ended up with five bags full of “Florals and Floral Accessories”
(according to the sign) and stuffed them all in Zach’s trunk before heading
back to school.  Shopping for flowers had seemed to put Chris in an
irrepressibly good mood, much to Zach’s dismay.
“So, you’re a junior too, right?” Chris asked, drumming his fingers on the arm
rest.
“Yep,” Zach said, his eyes glued to the road.
“And you’re in AP English?  I saw you there the other day.”
“That was me.”
Zach refused to say more and Chris was quiet for a few moments before trying
again.  “So, Zoe was saying you have an older brother in college?  My sister
just started at UCLA last fall.”
Zach couldn’t help himself.  “Wow, we have so much in common.  Let’s be besties
and study together and braid each other’s hair.”
Chris fell silent after that and a pang of guilt hit Zach low in the gut.  He
really was being a bastard.  He opened his mouth to change the subject, but
Chris cut in.  “Look, man, I get that you hate me.  I’d probably hate me, too,
if I were in your position.  But could you at least do me the courtesy of
looking at me when you mock me?  I mean, we are gonna have to interact on stage
at some point.”
Zach felt his cheeks burn and despised himself for it.  “I don’t…  I’m trying
really hard not to hate you.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Chris mumbled.
“Yeah, okay, I suck.  I know it.  But I’ve been doing this forever.  I’m going
to apply to some really high-level musical theatre programs next year, and Mr.
Abrams says I’ve got a good shot of actually getting in.  This is all I’ve ever
wanted to do with my life – acting and theatre.  You?”
Chris was quiet for a moment.  “No.  I don’t know.”
“What do you want to do?  Baseball?”
“Oh god, no,” Chris muttered, shaking his head.  “It was fun for a while, but I
don’t… I don’t know.”
Zach knew he should probably shut up, but he kept going.  “So why now?  Why
quit the baseball team the second half of your junior year and suddenly decide
to try out for the school play?  Were you bored?”
“I don’t know.”
“You say that a lot.”
Chris sat up straighter in his seat.  “Look, I know you’re a better actor than
me, okay?  You’ve been doing this forever, it’s your thing, and I know
absolutely nothing.  I don’t know why Abrams cast me, but I want to do this
play.  I’m going to do this play.  I’ll get lost after this semester and you’ll
never have to talk to me again.  Just try to at least act like you don’t want
to kill me.”
“I don’t… shit,” Zach cursed, scrubbing his hand over his forehead.  “I’m
sorry, alright?  I know I’m being a dick, I just can’t help it.”
“Well, try to get your dickitude under control,” Chris said, crossing his arms
over his chest and staring out the passenger window.
Zach couldn’t help it – he snorted.  “Dickitude?”  Chris turned to glare at
him.  “I like it.”
Chris’ stare slowly softened.  “I considered going with ‘dickosity.’”
“Clearly not the superior option.  Though ‘dicksationality’ might have worked.”
Chris didn’t smile, exactly, but he relaxed back into his seat.  “I defer to
your expertise, your exalted dickness.”
Zach did smile.  “That’s Lord Dickenstein to you.”
                                      &&&
The great thing about having Mr. Cross for last period study hall was that he
generally let class out well before the final bell rang.  He definitely wasn’t
supposed to, but Chris wasn’t about to rat him out.  So the breezeway was empty
when Chris got to his locker, which still reeked of sweaty socks despite the
lemon-scented air fresheners dangling from various hooks.
Chris knelt to retrieve his calc book, which had made its way down to the
bottom of the locker where clods of red clay still remained from the last time
he stored his cleats there.  He sighed and brushed the book off, unshouldering
his bag to cram it in among the textbooks, spiral-bound notebooks, and one
script already in there.  A shadow loomed over his left shoulder and Chris
braced himself.
“I should really beat the crap out of you.”
Ah, so Eric was still talking to him.  In a way.  “Just fucking try it, Bana. 
I will mess your shit up.”
As Chris got to his feet, Eric crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back
against the lockers.  “Least you could’ve done is told me before you announced
it to the entire fucking team, mate.”
“Sorry.  Next time I’ll call you first and we can have a heart-to-heart about
it.  Share our feelings.”
Eric just grinned in a way that was starting to freak Chris out.  “So, is she
hot?”
“Devastatingly,” Chris said.  “Who?”
“The girl you’ve left us for.  The drama babe.”
“There’s no…”  For a moment, Chris considered just going with it.  He could
mention Zoe – even if Eric didn’t know who she was, Chris could point her out
and Eric would nudge him in the ribs, wink, and then leave him alone.  But for
some reason, Chris said, “It wasn’t about a girl.  I’m just… done with
baseball.”
Chris could tell it was the wrong thing to say the second it left his mouth –
he might as well have said he was done with oxygen for all the sense it made to
Bana, who just shook his head sadly.  “You know what they’re going to say about
you.”
Chris had to consciously stop himself from grinding his teeth.  “No.  What are
they going to say about me?”
Eric sighed.  “Chris, don’t make me say it.”
“Just say it,” Chris spat, slamming his locker door.  He supposed he shouldn’t
really be angry with Eric – who was just trying to look out for him, in his own
way – but he’d been dancing around it too long in his own head.  “Look me in
the eye and tell me what people are going to say.”
Looking at the floor, Eric mumbled, “Well, they’re not saying it yet.  But it’s
only a matter of time.”
“I like girls,” Chris said, because it was true.  “I’m still hoping to get back
together with Beau.”  That was somewhat less so. 
He had dated Beau for the better part of a year, and even after all that time
she was still essentially a mystery to him.  She was smart and fun, and
honestly, he was just happy that a pretty girl was willing to be seen with him
in public.  But one week she was giving him his first – and, thus far, only –
blowjob (which was fucking awesome, by the way), and the next she was saying
that she needed to take a break to focus on schoolwork, and if he wanted to get
into a good college, he should do the same.  Chris hadn’t been upset so much as
utterly baffled.  He supposed that was what all those stand-up comedians were
going on about all the time about women.
So he did miss Beau, but life had become much less confusing after her.  Well,
in some ways.  More than that, he wasn’t quite ready to think about.
“I believe you,” Eric said.  “And I can try to stick up for you…”
“I don’t need you protecting me,” Chris said, keeping his feet firmly planted
on the ground to keep from shaking.
“Well, good,” said Eric, looking a little taken aback.  “Just… be careful,
okay?  You don’t want to be lumped in with them.”
He walked away then, and Chris’ face burned with a combination of anger and
shame.  Anger that wanted to shout better them than you, and shame that he’d
never dare do it.
                                      &&&
“Don’t need a ride tomorrow morning,” Karl said as they pulled up to the front
of his house.  “I think my dad is taking me in.”
“Let me know if you need a ride home,” Zach replied, putting the car in park.
“Thanks.  Now, to spend the next twelve hours cramming a month’s worth of
physics into my head.”
“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of empty space in there,” Zach said with a grin,
and Karl flipped him off, only belatedly looking around to make sure his mom
didn’t see.  “Bye.”
“See ya.”
Truthfully, Zach was glad of the company to and from school.  It wasn’t by any
means a long drive, but it was one he’d taken with his brother for the last two
years.  His brother who was now away at college, and though Zach had inherited
his old car, Zach would trade it in a second to have Joe back in the driver’s
seat.  Not that he would admit it.  From what Joe had told him over the
holidays, college was the best thing in the history of ever.
Joe’s absence also made his home life more of a challenge.  It was just Zach
and his mom now, and though he loved her, when Joe had been around, he’d acted
as a buffer between them.  Now that he was out of the house, Joe was officially
the Good Kid, with all the trouble that he’d gotten into gently reinterpreted
as humorous childhood anecdotes.  Even now, nearly six months after Joe had
moved out, Zach was still getting used to being the focus of his mom’s well-
intentioned but near-constant nagging.
“It’s your turn in the barrel,” Joe had said the last time Zach had complained.
Before he knew it, Zach was home, scraping his feet on the mat and walking in
the door with an obligatory, “Hey, mom, I’m back.”
“Hi sweetheart!” he heard her call.  “I thought you were supposed to be back an
hour ago.”
He rolled his eyes.  “Rehearsal ran long again.  And I had to take Karl home,
remember?”
“Oh, yes, that’s right,” she said, bustling into the living room with an
armload of clean laundry.  “You ought to have a word with Mr. Abrams. 
Rehearsal seems to run long almost every day.”
“Mom, you’ve only been home, what, fifteen or twenty minutes?  It’s not like
I’m late for the dinner bell or anything,” Zach said, starting to pair up socks
from the pile his mom had dumped on the couch.
“I’m concerned about your schoolwork, Zachary,” she said pointedly.  “You’re
staying up much too late to finish it.”
“It’s fine, mom.  My grades are as good as they ever were.”
She looked at him as though she wanted to say something, but was holding
herself back.  On another day, Zach might have tried to get it out of her, out
of either peevishness or genuine concern, but he didn’t feel like dealing with
it, so he just kept folding socks.
Eventually, his mom spoke up.  “So, how’s Zoe?”
Oh god, this again.  “She’s fine.  I swear, she’s already got half her lines
memorized.  I have no idea how she does it.”
“She’s a very smart girl,” she said with a firm nod, as though that proved
something.  “You two get along so well.”
Zach felt the blood drain out of his face.  “She’s got a boyfriend.”
“Oh,” his mom said, evidently surprised.  “Has this been going on very long? 
Because I don’t remember you mentioning—”
“Not long, I don’t think.  I don’t know.  She doesn’t tell me everything.”
“Oh,” she said again, more quietly this time.  “There’s no need to take that
tone with me, Zachary.”
“Sorry, mom,” he muttered.  When the socks were done, he moved on to the t-
shirts.
                                      &&&
“Okay, did everybody bring their props?” Mr. Abrams asked, looking out across
the auditorium seats.
Everyone began digging through their backpacks, including Chris.  He pulled out
the plastic bag containing the thick-framed tortoiseshell eyeglasses he’d worn
in middle school, the frame super-glued back together in two places, as well as
a pair of suspenders on loan from his dad.  Mr. Abrams had asked them to bring
some type of prop or bit of a costume that would help get them into character,
and it had been depressingly easy for Chris to nerd it up.  He’d even spent a
few moments looking at the orthodontic retainer in his medicine cabinet before
ultimately deciding there was only so much suffering he wanted to do for his
art.
Beside him, Zoe was pulling on a pair of bright yellow stilettos that came to a
wicked point at the toe.  “Ugh,” Chris said with a grimace.  “Those hurt my
feet just looking at them.”
Zoe just grinned.  “Aren’t they awful?  I found them at a thrift store and they
almost fit me.  I can’t walk in them for more than two steps.  I may find
myself leaning on you quite a bit.”  She fluttered her eyelashes at Chris, who
laughed and pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose.  They must have
worked, because he was blushing already.
He looked to his left, where Karl had a long section of some kind of leafy vine
wrapped around his neck like a scarf and Simon was casually tugging on a pair
of gloves tipped with long metallic claws, Freddie-style.  Winona was clipping
a huge sequined bow into her hair and John popped a sour Warhead candy into his
mouth.
“Looking good!” said Mr. Abrams with a chuckle.  “Alright, I’d like to try to
get through Act I today.  Remember, off-book date for this is next Monday, so
really start learning those lines if you haven’t already.”
Chris didn’t get a good look at what Zach had brought until they were
backstage.  Well, sidestage, anyway, crammed in the small space near the stage
right entrance.  As close as they were, Chris actually smelled the leather
before he saw it.  It probably wasn’t Zach’s jacket – it looked a little too
loose around the shoulders – but it was still really fucking impressive: sleek
black leather with silver-zippered pockets.
Zach’s whole posture changed right before Chris’ eyes; he crossed his arms over
his chest and leaned back casually against the wall.  “So, what do you think?”
he asked, staring at Chris down the bridge of his nose.
“It’s… uh,” Chris stammered, plucking nervously at his suspenders.  He was
pretty sure Orin Scrivello D.D.S. was meant to be scary, not sexy.  “It’s
nice.”
“Thanks,” Zach replied with a sharp, toothy grin, then added, “dweeb.”
Chris rolled his eyes.  “Dentist,” he shot back, and his heart leapt into his
throat when Zach laughed.
***** Chapter 2 *****
The movie had been a bust, in Zach’s opinion, anyway.  It was entertaining
enough, he supposed, but the cinematography was mediocre at best and the script
was downright awful.  But John and Zoe seemed to have loved it, so he kept his
thoughts to himself.  He’d been making an effort to do more of that lately.
Zach and Karl were the first to get their frozen yogurt, so they found a table
near the corner with enough chairs for them all.  “I’m surprised Chris agreed
to come with us,” Zach said casually as he sat.  Karl shot him a nasty look and
Zach held up his hands defensively.  “No, I mean, I’m fine with him coming. 
I’m glad he’s here.  I just… thought he’d have other things to do on a Friday
night.”
“Uh huh,” Karl said, still watching Zach.
“C’mon, man, I’ve been nice to him.  You’ve seen it.”
“I’ve seen you two snarking at each other between scenes.”
“But it’s fun-snarky, not mean-snarky.  It’s how we communicate.  I’m actually
starting to warm up to the guy.  Ask him!”
“Maybe I will,” Karl announced, swiveling in his seat as Chris walked up to the
table.  “So Chris, has Zach stopped being a dick to you?”
Chris glanced nervously at Zach for a second, but said “He’s quit putting
scorpions down the back of my shirt, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Zach dropped his jaw in faux shock.  “Uh, they were de-stingified scorpions,
and I totally don’t get what the big deal is.”
Luckily, Chris played along.  “They still bite, dickweed!”
“Not with any venom!  Toughen up a little, you pus—dammit, Zoe, that hurts!”
Zach yelped, clapping a hand over his ear where Zoe had flicked it.
John laughed, the bastard.  “Aw, c’mon Zoe.  That might’ve been the one and
only time we’ll hear Zach talk about pussy.”
Zach’s eyes quickly darted to Chris, but he appeared to be happily shoveling
green apple yogurt and butterscotch chips into his mouth.  And Zoe had kicked
John under the table and moved on.  “John, you wouldn’t have even said that
word if Rachel were here.”
Karl laughed around a mouthful of chocolate sauce and gummie bears.  “C’mon,
mate, you don’t still think you have a chance with her?”
“You’ll see,” John said, narrowing his eyes and pointing his spoon
threateningly at each of them in turn.  “One day she’ll say yes, and you will
all have to eat your thorny, bitter words, and I will watch you choke on them,
and I will laugh.”
“Anyway,” Zoe said with an eye roll.  “So, Chris, did you like the movie?”
Chris shrugged.  “It was okay.”
“It’s alright,” said Karl, “Zach didn’t like it either.”
Zach turned on him.  “Hey, did I say—?”
“You didn’t have to.  You were rolling your eyes and sighing after every line!”
“Eh, the dialogue was pretty bad,” Chris cut in.  “Sometimes I wonder if those
writers have ever actually heard real people speak to each other.”
Zach dropped his spoon in the cup, his yogurt temporarily forgotten.  “I know,
right?  I mean, I get that it’s an action movie and all, but how many people
have to read and hear that dialogue by the time that gets to the editing room? 
And no one says ‘Wait, hold up, nobody needs to have “RUN RUN RUN” screamed at
them when they’re already running?’”
“Nothing’s as bad as the Star Wars prequels, though,” Chris said, shaking his
head gravely.
“Oh Anakin,” Zach began, and Chris chimed in for the end of the line.  “Hold me
like you did by the lake on Naboo!”
“This is embarrassing,” John said, shrinking down in his chair but taking his
cup of yogurt with him.  “You are embarrassing me.”
“The American film industry is embarrassing you, man,” sighed Zach.
“Hey, isn’t that where you want to work?” Chris asked innocently.
Karl clamped a hand over Zach’s mouth before he could answer.  “Zachary here is
a purist, committed entirely to the the-ah-tah.”
Zach gave Karl’s palm a good long lick, forcing him to draw back in disgust. 
“I was going to say,” he began defensively, “yes, my first love is the theatre,
but I wouldn’t mind doing movies, too.  I’d like to form my own production
company someday.”
People usually laughed when Zach mentioned it (“people” largely being “Karl”),
but Chris just nodded and said, “Cool.”
Zach contained the grin that threatened to spread across his face by mentally
admitting the fact that Chris Pine was now officially off his Shit List.
                                      &&&
The next rehearsal began by Mr. Abrams ushering a small, curly-haired kid into
the auditorium.  The kid looked like he was about to wet himself with terror,
and Chris had a horrible moment where he wondered if that’s what he’d looked
like the day of their first read-through.
Mr. Abrams called Zach over.  “Zach, this is Anton.  He’s a freshman, and he’s
volunteered to run lights and sound for us.”
As Zach shook Anton’s hand, Chris moved closer.  He was a little curious about
the technical aspects of theatre and a lot curious about how Zach was going to
treat another newcomer.
“I want to work with the chorus girls today,” Mr. Abrams was saying, “so I’d
like you to show Anton our technical equipment.”
Zach’s eyebrows shot up.  “Now?  Is it set up?”
“Yep.  Hop to it.”
Zach chuckled.  “Alright, come on, Anton.  It’s a very sophisticated system we
have, but with a few weeks’ practice, you should be able to master it.”
Chris followed them to the back of the auditorium, trying to look casual.  When
Zach turned back around to face Anton and saw Chris standing behind him, he
quirked an eyebrow at Chris, but didn’t comment.  Zach pointed to a switch on
the wall.  “Okay, here we have our state-of-the-art lighting system.  It
functions in two main modes: ‘on’ and… you might want to write this down,
Anton… ‘off.’  We’re hoping to invest in a dimmer switch when the price of the
technology finally comes down.”
Anton’s mouth hung open.  “I… what?”
“He’s messing with you,” Chris said, staring Zach down.
Zach stared back for a few moments, but then his face broke into a grin and he
looked back at Anton.  “I totally am.  But not by much.  We have separate
controls for house lights and stage lights, but that’s about it.”  He led them
over to the folding table set up at the back of the room, upon which sat an
ancient-looking mixing board.  “Okay, we do have a few more options when it
comes to sound…”
As Zach led Anton through the various switches on the soundboard, Chris tried
to listen, but most things were labeled or somewhat self-explanatory anyway. 
He ended up mostly just observing Zach’s interaction with Anton, the way he
patiently explained everything, then smiled when the younger boy finally got up
the nerve to ask a question. 
So maybe that’s how it would be if I hadn’t introduced myself to him by taking
his part, Chris thought.  It was a bit pointless to imagine, but Chris wished
he’d gotten off to a better start with Zach.  He obviously knew his way around
the theatre, and he could be a really nice guy when he wanted to be.  Despite
rolling their eyes at his ego, Zach’s friends seemed to genuinely like spending
time with him, outside rehearsal even.  And more and more, so did Chris.
“I don’t know if Mr. Abrams is planning on giving Karl one of the lapel mikes
or what,” Zach was saying when Chris finally started to tune back in.  “That’s
something you’ll need to ask him.”
“What, like, now?” Anton asked, his eyes wide.
Zach chuckled and glanced over at the stage, where Zoe was leading Rachel, Jen,
and Winona through some basic choreography.  “No, not now.  Why don’t you hang
out for a while and watch them rehearse?  And stop being so nervous – you’ve
got weeks to figure this all out, and none of us actually bite.”
Anton nodded and scampered back down the aisle to find a seat, and Chris turned
back to Zach.  “So all I have to do to get you to be nice to me is act like a
terrified little puppy?”
Zach regarded him for a moment.  “Couldn’t hurt.  Let’s see it.”
Chris turned his feet pigeon-toed and hunched until he seemed to shrink down a
few inches, wringing his hands and pitching his voice up an octave.  “M-m-mr.
Quinto, sir?   C-could you please, please teach me how to act?  You’re ever so
good at it.”
Zach laughed aloud, looking a little surprised that he’d done it.  “Wow, I
wasn’t expecting the full-on Dickensian wretch.  Nice job.”
Straightening up, Chris grinned.  “Did I overdo it?”
“Oh, no.  You could even stand to throw some more groveling in there.  You can
never have too much groveling.”
“Oh my god, how do you even fit your ego through the doorway?” Chris groaned.
“I have to use the double doors,” Zach quipped, clasping his hands behind his
back to stretch his shoulders.  His shirt pulled tight over his chest and Chris
was surprised to see that despite his thinness, Zach wasn’t all skin and bones
– he appeared to have some muscle on him.  Chris was even more surprised that
he’d noticed, but fortunately, Zach didn’t appear to have caught him staring.
                                      &&&
Home Depot had the hinges that Simon and Karl were looking for to build Audrey
II’s working mouth, but not the lightweight plastic tubing for her vines and
roots, so Chris and Zach were headed to Lowe’s to look for it.  Neither one
complained that it was across town.
After a few moments of lull in the conversation, Zach couldn’t resist.  “So
why’d you really quit the baseball team?”
Chris sighed and rubbed his forehead.  “Is it that important?”
“I guess not,” Zach said.  “But I’m curious.”
Chris was silent for a long time, staring hard out the window as if trying to
work up the courage to speak.  “So, you know the Punch-Buggy-No-Punch-Back
thing?”
Zach was startled into laughing.  “Uh, yeah, I have an older brother.”
“Well, we did that on the bus to away games.  But not just punch buggies – the
guys expanded it to other cars.  You had to fart if you saw a Ford Fiesta, and
then there was, uh… PT Cruiser Nut Crunch.  Which is pretty much just what it
sounds like.”
He went quiet like that was supposed to mean something.  “Okay, you’ve lost
me,” Zach said.
“Well, there are a lot of PT Cruisers on the road, right?  So everybody’s balls
are getting grabbed all over the place.  And that’s, you know, whatever. 
Sounds really stupid when you try to describe it, but kinda fun when
everybody’s goofing around.”
“And so you’re… shy about your testicles?”
“What?” Chris’ face flushed darkly.  “No, it’s not just that.  There’s the
usual ass-slapping, like a ‘good job’ kind of thing.  And some of the guys
actually do compare dicks in the locker room.  It’s… well, I’ve never actually
seen a gay porno, but I can’t imagine it’s too far off.”
Chris looked frustrated, on the verge of angry, and Zach’s heart sank in his
chest.  Fuck, he’d been starting to think that Chris was a pretty good guy,
that he wasn’t just some dumb homophobic jock. 
But then Chris continued, “So that’s just normal, right?  Nobody questions it. 
But this one sophomore, some rumor started going around that he’d gotten drunk
and kissed another guy at a party, and it got brutal.  They wouldn’t even call
him by his name, just ‘faggot’ and ‘cocksucker’ all the time.  Somebody
plastered his locker with pictures – some real nasty shit, animals and stuff. 
The guy got really defensive at first, but that just made it worse, so finally
he had to play along and pretend like he thought it was funny.  The coach sort
of stepped in, but everyone was all ‘Oh, we’re just kidding, it’s just a joke,’
and so he backed off.”
Chris shook his head in disgust.  “It was… god.  Like, I’m not the nicest
person ever, I know.  I’ve said some nasty stuff without thinking about what it
really meant.  But to do that to someone?  Which is bad enough as it is, but
all the while grabbing each other’s junk?  How fucking ignorant do you have to
be?  But god help anyone who actually says that.  And I can’t believe I’m
telling you all of this.”
By the time Chris finished, his hands were balled up into fists and his breath
was huffing out in angry gusts.  It was obviously a subject he took very
personally, and before Zach could think better of it, he asked, “It’s none of
my business and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but are you…?”
“No,” Chris said quickly.  “But if I were…”
“Yeah,” Zach said, feeling his stomach drop.  Not like he thought Chris
actually was.  Not really.  It would be too perfect, too easy.  That kind of
thing didn’t happen to Zach.
“So, yeah.  I mean, not all the guys were like that.  My friend Eric, he
refused to take part in it, even though he’s not, like, the most enlightened
guy ever.  But he didn’t try to stop it, either.  I was too much of a coward to
do anything about it, but it was disgusting and I just couldn’t be around that
anymore.”
“So, what, you thought you’d go polar opposite?  Find a place where the gays
are revered as gods?” Zach asked, managing to crack a smile.
“I guess,” Chris said through a soft laugh.  “Plus, my parents have always
been… I guess pushing isn’t quite the right word.  They never made me do
anything I didn’t want to do.  But they’re both actors – well, my mom used to
be – and they’re forever telling me that I’d just be, like, the best actor
ever.”
“They’re both actors?” Zach asked, his jaw dropping.
“Yeah.”
“Anything I’d know?”
“Um, TV stuff mostly.  Do you know the show CHiPS?”
“I’ve heard of it.  My mom watches reruns of it sometimes.”
“Yeah, well,” Chris mumbled, blushing even harder than he had before.  “My dad
was on that.  For a couple of years.  But mostly now it’s just occasional guest
spots in things.”
“Chris!” Zach gasped, letting go of the wheel with his right hand to grab Chris
by the shoulder.  It seemed to startle him, but Zach couldn’t find it in him to
care.  “That is.  So cool.  How awesome is it to have actors as parents?”
“Uh, it’s okay, I guess.  I mean, we’re not, like, rich or anything.  Could you
maybe watch the road?”
“But just being in that world, getting to go on the set of a show.  Did you
ever do that?”
“Sometimes,” Chris said, starting to squirm a little but with the faintest hint
of a smile playing on his lips.  “When I was a kid.  I don’t remember the CHiPS
set, though.  I was too young.”
Zach was legitimately worried that he might squeal.  “Do they just sit you down
and tell you all kind of acting secrets?”
“Uh, no?  I’ve actually been trying to keep them off my case about this whole
thing.  My dad keeps getting all wistful about me going into the family
business.  It’s kind of embarrassing.”
Zach tried to keep from looking scandalized.  How could Chris not realize how
awesome this was?  “Well, still.  Do you think I could talk to them sometime? 
I’ll be cool about it, I swear, I won’t ask for an autograph or anything stupid
like that.  I just want to talk to someone who’s actually been in the
business.  Did they start out doing theatre?”
“I think so.  I mean, I know my mom was pretty big into drama club in high
school.  My dad didn’t get into acting until college.”
“No wonder you’re so—” Zach started, barely catching himself in time.  “I mean,
no wonder you decided to do theatre.  How come you never mentioned this
before?  Oh my god, if my mom was an actor, I would totally tell everybody. 
You wouldn’t be able to shut me up about it.”
Chris grimaced.  “When I was little, other kids in my class, kids I barely
knew, would come over to play.  They would come over maybe once or twice, then
never again.  I didn’t realize it for a long time, but it was because their
parents just wanted to meet mine – usually my dad.  It’s not like we’re
celebrities or anything, but things change once people learn who my parents
are.”
“Oh,” said Zach, crestfallen.  “Shit.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s okay.  Most people only care because they’re sort of famous.  You
care because they do what you want to do.”  A slow smile spread across Chris’
face.  “Besides, I’d imagine that this isn’t going to keep you from being a
dick to me.”
With an internal sigh, Zach grinned.  “Not at all.  In fact, I might be more of
a dick just to compensate for all those people that were fake-nice to you.”
“Just what I need.”  Chris finally seemed to relax, leaning back against the
wall and stretching his legs out.  “Hey, what were you going to say earlier?”
“What?”
“You know, you said, ‘no wonder you’re so…’  Talented?  Hot?”
It was going to be the first one, but the second wasn’t any less true.  Zach
didn’t let his smile falter.  “Humble.  I was going to say ‘humble,’ but I
guess you’ve shot that all to hell.  Now whose ego won’t fit through the door?”
                                      &&&
“It’s not a real dentist’s chair, obviously,” Simon said.  “Those things weigh
an effin’ ton.  But it’s a pretty good replica, right?”
The smile on Zach’s face was just shy of terrifying.  “Simon, it’s perfect.”
“Uh, how sturdy is it?” Chris asked, trying and failing to keep the anxiety out
of his voice.  “The way the scene’s blocked, it has to hold both of us.”
“Oh, she’ll hold alright,” Simon said, looking inordinately proud.
Even Mr. Abrams looked impressed.  “Simon, where did you even…  You know what? 
No.  I’m not even going to ask.  As long as you didn’t steal it.”  He paused,
the smile dropping from his face.  “Simon, you didn’t steal it...”
“No!  Found!  I found it!” Simon exclaimed, his eyes going wide and puppyish. 
“This friend of mine, Nick, he likes to go looking for—”
 “Okay!” Mr. Abrams said brightly, clapping his hands with finality. 
“Excellent!  We can finally run this scene properly.  Chris, let’s take it from
your entrance.”
Chris nodded and breathed deeply.  This was one of two scenes he shared with
Zach as Orin – just the two of them on stage.  It still varied pretty wildly
depending on how Zach was feeling at the time; Chris admired him for trying new
things with it, seeing what worked, but he was never sure how Zach would play
it on any given day.  That was probably just how Zach wanted it.
When everything was set up and ready to go, Chris stumbled on from stage
right.  Zach swung immediately around to look at him, a terrifying dental
torture instrument in his hand, his face darkly menacing.  “Would you like it
if I took this and made straight for your goddamn incisors?”
“We’re going with ‘damn incisors,’ Zach,” Mr. Abrams interrupted.
“Right, sorry,” Zach said quickly before getting back into character and
rapidly advancing on Chris.  “It’d hurt, right?  You’d scream?”
Okay, so it’s less Steve Martin today and more Dennis Hopper, Chris thought. 
Fuck.  He opened his mouth as if to stammer, but Zach grabbed him by the wrist
and pulled him toward the chair.
“Get your ass in here.” Zach said, then paused to stare into Chris’ eyes. 
Chris didn’t have to fake the way he shrank down under that glare.  “Don’t I
know you?
“S-Seymour Krelborn,” he stuttered.  “We met yesterday.”
Zach usually waited until the middle of his next line to throw Chris down into
the chair, but he caught Chris completely off guard and did it before he began
speaking.  Luckily, the chair had some cushion to it – actually more
comfortable than the metal folding chairs they’d been using – but it also
forced Chris to lie back nearly flat.  That made it much easier for Zach to
grab him by the jaw and wrench his mouth open.  He leaned down so close that
Chris could feel the heat radiating from his body.  “Your mouth’s a mess, kid. 
That wisdom tooth.  We’ll rip that bugger right out of there.  What do you
say?”
Chris could only breath again once Zach had pulled away to grab a prop off the
tray of tools behind him.  The chair made an enormous difference – before,
Chris had managed to get to his feet before Zach could swing back around with
the drill, but now he struggled to even sit up.  He realized what a horribly
vulnerable position he was in and his heart began to slam in his chest.
Zach rounded on him, easily pushing him back down by the shoulder.  “There’s
always time for dental hygiene.”
“What’s that?” Chris gasped, staring wide-eyed at the object in Zach’s left
hand.
“The drill,” Zach said with an evil-looking smirk.
It was actually just a large electric toothbrush with the bristles sawn off,
not yet painted to look sinister, but Zach was already wielding it like a
weapon.  “It’s rusty!”
“It’s an antique!  They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”  Zach bounced the
thing up and down like he was hefting its weight.  “Sturdy.  Heavy.  Dull.”  He
rolled each word around in his mouth like he was getting off on them, and Chris
felt the horrible lightheadedness that preceded the rush of his blood down to
his crotch.
Suddenly Zach stopped, blinking for a second, and then grinned widely.  “I’m
gonna want some gas for this.”
“Thank god,” Chris sighed, actually grateful for the space between them when
Zach crossed in front of him to pick up the tank at stage left.  “I thought you
wouldn’t use any.”  Even though that space was about to disappear again.
Zach spun around, the grin still in place.  “Oh, the gas isn’t for you,
Seymour.  It’s for me.”  His voice had dropped to a near purr.  “In fact, I’m
going to use my special gas mask.  I find a little giggle gas before I begin
increases my pleasure enormously.”
Chris struggled to get his breathing under control as Zach stalked him down,
every bit the predator teasing his kill.  And fuck everything, Chris’ was
starting to get hard under that sadistically playful stare.  Zach was slinking
toward him in a way that was downright sensual.  He might as well have been
licking his lips and stripping his shirt as he went, which was a visual that
Chris did not need.
“Here we go!” Zach exclaimed, reaching back as though turning on the gas.  They
didn’t have the mask for him to wear yet, so he had to mime pulling it down
over his nose and mouth.  He tipped his head back and groaned with bliss.  “Oh,
Seymour, I’m flying!”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Chris knew the next line and he was so completely screwed. 
Zach was practically on top of him when he leaned down and growled “Ohhh, the
things I’m gonna do to that mouth.”
Chris’ only saving grace was that he literally did have a gun in his pocket. 
That line was his cue to fumble for the prop, struggling lightly with Zach
until he could pull it free.  Which all worked fine in the folding chair when
Chris was sitting up and didn’t have two solid armrests to contend with.  In
the dentist’s chair, Zach was able to pin his arms, making reaching for the gun
much more difficult.  And the more he struggled, the harder Zach held him down,
managing to get a knee between Chris’ thigh and one of the arms for leverage. 
As Chris thrashed and Zach bore down, their upper bodies were nearly touching,
but fortunately for Chris, Zach’s lower half remained a safe distance away. 
His hard-on throbbed painfully with each gust of Zach’s breath against his face
and neck, but as soon as he could get his hand around the gun and pull it out,
he knew Zach would leap back and continue the scene.  Chris wriggled his hand
into his pocket, nearly groaning with relief as his fingers wrapped around the
grip.
With a loud crack, the arm of the chair gave way, sending Zach sprawling atop
Chris. 
                                      &&&
The second Mr. Abrams confirmed that neither of them had sustained any major
injuries, Chris ran.  He brushed right past Zoe and out the side exit of the
auditorium.
“Zach, is he okay?” John asked.
“He’s…”  Zach struggled for a word that wasn’t erect.  “I think he’s just a
little freaked out.”
“I should’ve stopped you earlier,” Mr. Abrams said, shaking his head.  “That
was too much, Zach.  Even before the… chair.”
“I know,” Zach groaned, burying his face in his hands.  He wanted to run,
wanted some space to think without his friends all staring at him.
Mr. Abrams turned to Karl, who had been doing his math homework while he waited
for one of his scenes.  “Will you go see if Chris is okay?”
“No, wait, let me,” Zach blurted, halfway across the stage already.
“Uh, Zach, are you sure you should…”  Mr. Abrams trailed off.
“Yes.  Please, trust me on this.”
He suspected Chris hadn’t gotten far, and he was right.  Chris was just turning
the corner around the back of the theatre building when Zach burst outside. 
Zach considered calling out to him, but figured that would just make Chris run.
When Zach rounded the corner, he found Chris leaning against the building, his
face pressed into his forearm.  “Chris,” Zach said softly.
“No.  No no, fuck no.  Go away.”
“Please don’t freak out.”
“Go the fuck away.  I’m not going back in there.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Zach said with a tenderness that surprised even him.
“Look, I know there’s no way you didn’t feel…”  Chris pushed away from the wall
but refused to look at Zach, rubbing his hands over his eyes instead.  “Can we
please just pretend that never happened?”
“Um, yeah, actually,” Zach said, and that finally got Chris to look at him. 
“It’s… it’s not that big a deal.  It’s not the first, um.  I know it didn’t
mean anything.  It doesn’t bother me.”
That only made Chris stare at him more incredulously.  “It really doesn’t, does
it?” he asked after a moment.
“I mean, not like I go rubbing up against other guys all the time, but, well, I
think you know.”
“You’re so… not fucked up about it.”
Zach shrugged, trying not to squirm under Chris’ sharp stare.  “It’s just who I
am.”
“Does… do they know?” Chris asked, gesturing at the theatre where all Zach’s
friends were still gathered.
“Zoe and Karl are the only ones I’ve actually told.  But the others… I’m pretty
sure they’ve guessed.”
“And your mom?”
Zach laughed bitterly.  “Oh hell no.  She keeps trying to set me up with Zoe. 
She’d keel over dead if she found out.”
“You’re so lucky,” Chris mumbled, then seemed to realize what he’d said and
started backpedaling.  “Not, uh, not for your mom.  That sucks.  But your
friends, they don’t even care, and you’re… you seem cool with it.”
Zach ducked his head, fighting the stinging sensation in his throat.  “Most of
the time.  Not, y’know, always.  There are times when I think… When I wish I
were different.  Normal.”
“Me too,” Chris muttered softly into his hand, and Zach wasn’t sure if he’d
heard right.
“Hey, one random boner doesn’t mean you’re…”
“It’s not, uh.”  Chris slumped back against the wall.  “It’s not really an
isolated incident.”
Zach’s jaw dropped.  “I— I mean, I know it’s not really any of my business, but
I thought you said you weren’t—”
“I know,” Chris said, his eyes cast down at the ground.  “I don’t really know
what I am.  Why do I keep telling you these things?  I still like girls.  But…
not only girls, I guess.”
Despite the seriousness of the moment, the corner of Zach’s mouth twitched up. 
“That is an option, you know.  It doesn’t have to be an either/or thing.”
“I guess,” Chris said, looking deeply unsure.  “But that just seems… greedy.”
Zach couldn’t help it – he laughed.  “Sorry!  I’m sorry.  I don’t find this
funny, I really don’t.  It’s just… you don’t have to decide today, you know?”
Chris suddenly seemed to remember where he was.  “Oh shit.  Is rehearsal still
going on?”
“Probably.  As long as nobody’s missing a limb, the show goes on.”
“Great,” Chris groaned.
“Hey, look on the bright side.  Now you get to kill me and feed me to a
carnivorous plant!”
“Well, there’s that.”  Chris brightened for a moment, then a thought seemed to
occur to him.  “Do you, um, do you think anybody else noticed?  That I was,
uh—”
“Packing more than a gun?” Zach supplied, and Chris rolled his eyes.  “No, I
honestly don’t think so.”
Chris chewed at his bottom lip and Zach felt a wholly inappropriate blush
threaten to spread up his neck.  “Can you do me a favor and just… not mention
this to anyone?  Any of this?”
“Yeah, sure, of course.”
“Thanks.  And can you do me one more favor?”
“Sure.”
“Can you dial back the fucking David Lynch next time?  Jesus, Zach.”
“Um, yeah,” Zach muttered, proud of himself for not mentioning just how much
Little Chris had actually seemed to like it.  “May have gotten a little carried
away there.  Wait a minute, you know David Lynch?”
“Not personally,” Chris said, rolling his eyes.  “But, yeah, my mom grounded me
for two weeks when she caught me watching Mulholland Drive.”
“Was it worth it?”
“No.  Still have no fucking clue what that movie was about.  Other than
lesbians.  I was pretty clear on the lesbians.”
                                      &&&
As he unlocked the door, Chris took a deep breath and prayed to whomever was
listening that he wouldn’t regret this.
“Mom?  Dad?  I’m home.  And, uh, Zach’s with me.”
He turned back to hold the door open for Zach, who was apparently waiting to be
officially invited in.  And also seemed to be very consciously trying not to
bounce up and down on his toes.  It wasn’t quite working.  “Come on in, Zach,”
he sighed.
Zach raised his chin and strode inside confidently, in the profoundly awkward
manner of somebody who was telling himself to act casual.  Chris saved his eye
roll until he turned back to close the door behind them.
Chris’ mom was the first to arrive in the living room.  “Zach, hello!” she said
warmly, and okay, he apparently already rated a one-armed hug on the Mom
Scale.  “We’ve heard so much about you.”
Chris glared at her so hard his eyeballs nearly popped out of his head, but she
just ignored him.  “Can I get you anything to drink, sweetie?” she asked Zach.
“Uhh, no, ma’am.  No thank you.  I’ve had, like, eight Cokes today, so I’ve
been peeing all day, but I’m fine.”
Wow, smooth.  Zach had to be mentally facepalming over that one, but Chris just
barely managed not to laugh. 
“How was rehearsal?” his mom asked, leading them to sit on the sofa.
Chris opened his mouth to answer, but Zach cut in first.  “Great!  Things are
going really well.  Simon has pretty much finished building the Audrey II.  I
mean, it’s nothing like it was for that first off-Broadway run.  Well, you
know, the pictures I’ve seen.  Or the movie, of course.  Simon wanted something
a little more sinister-looking.  Anyway, the framework’s all built, but we –
Chris and I, I mean, and the other cast – have been working on the vocals.”
He glanced back at Chris, who gave a thumbs up.  “Yup.  Singing.”
“Chris has really amazing projection.  When he’s doing ‘Suddenly Seymour,’ I’m
pretty sure you can hear him from the parking lot.  I’m totally jealous. 
That’s one reason that I really want to work with a vocal coach at some point,
because—”
At that point, Chris’ dad walked in and Zach apparently couldn’t be bothered to
finish his sentence.  “I’m guessing you’re Zach?” his dad said, fortunately
only extending a hand.
Which Zach shook with reckless abandon.  “That’s me.  It’s so great to meet
you!  Both of you!  Did I already say that?”
“Nope,” Chris said, but nobody spared him a glance.
“We hear you’re quite the actor,” his dad said, settling in on the loveseat.
For a few seconds, Chris was genuinely worried that Zach might explode.  His
face turned a dire shade of pink, but all that came out were words.  So, so
many words.  “I don’t know about that.  I mean, I’m trying to be.  I’ve been
doing theatre forever, but I’ve only really started to get into acting theory
this year.  And there’s just so much.  I started with Stanislavsky, ‘cause
that’s where naturalism in acting came from, right?  But then I started getting
into Meisner, which is supposed to be kind of an extension of the system, but I
really don’t get where all that repetition business fits in.  Because then it’s
like, what about the script?  I mean, I have to actually say the lines at some
point.  So I was just wondering what your process is like, how you get
started.  I mean, is it possible to overprepare?”
If Zach noticed Chris’ dad’s eyebrows climbing higher and higher, he certainly
didn’t give any indication of it.  When he finally finished speaking, Chris’
dad shifted a little on the loveseat, clearing his throat.  “Well, uh, I think
there were several questions in there.”  Zach nodded eagerly.  “But you asked
about my process.  I do think it’s possible to overprepare.  The problem I find
with some of these theories in their purest forms is that they become pretty
solipsistic.  Do you know what I mean by—?”
“Self-absorbed, right?” Zach said eagerly.
“Exactly.  I think you’ve got to be careful of subscribing purely to one theory
at the expense of all the others.  You’ve got the benefit of being young, so
you haven’t been indoctrinated – I know that’s a pretty strong word, but just
bear with me here – into a single school of thought.  It can actually isolate
you from the people you work with.  Now when I was starting out…”
Really, Chris had no idea why he’d been thinking this would be a total
disaster.  His dad loved to talk, and in Zach he had found his perfect
audience.  Zach was leaning so far forward on the couch he was a mere inch from
falling off, and his dad had already started to talk with his hands. 
Obviously, Chris wasn’t needed.  “Okay, I’m gonna go get a…”  No one spared a
glance when he stood.  “A life,” he muttered, heading for the kitchen.
He’d just finished pouring himself some orange juice when his mom came in. 
“Well, Zach’s certainly passionate,” she said with a smile.
Chris groaned.  “Shouldn’t you be out there helping him hone his craft?”
“Oh, he doesn’t want to hear from a psychologist who’s been out of showbiz for
twenty years.  Plus, between you and me, your father can talk enough for the
both of us.”
“We’re going to be here all night, aren’t we?”
“Well, your dad’s eventually going to need food, and I’ll make sure he stops
talking long enough to chew.”  She peeked her head around into the living room,
then back to Chris.  “I think this is really good for him.  Lord knows he loves
a captive audience.  I’m glad you brought Zach by.”
“I don’t think I could’ve stopped him,” Chris said into his juice, though it
wasn’t strictly true.  He’d had to reassure Zach several times over that he
really was welcome at the Pine household and allowed to ask questions, within
reason.  Chris scraped at a spot on the countertop.  “I’m sorry I’m not like
that.”
“Like what?” his mom asked.  “Like Zach?”
“Yeah.  All crazy about acting and stuff.”
“Oh, sweetie,” she said, throwing an arm around him and standing on her tiptoes
to give him a peck on the temple.  Chris had to bend down a little; he’d been a
head taller than her since the eighth grade.  “We just hope you find something,
anything you care that much about.  If your dad and I and your grandmother were
all plumbers, we’d probably be giving you a little nudge in the ribs whenever
we saw a plunger.  But we just want you to do something you love.”
“And something that actually pays,” Chris muttered.
“That would be helpful, yes.”  She paused, picking up the bottle of orange
juice where Chris had left it and putting it back into the fridge.  “Oh, and I
can see why you like Zach so much.”
“Whuh?” Chris gurgled through a mouthful of juice, nearly dropping his glass.
“Why you two have become such fast friends.  I don’t know anyone else whose
kids would know what the word ‘solipsistic’ means.  Nor many adults, either.”
“Hnnn,” said Chris, reaching for a tissue to clear the pulp from his sinuses.
                                      &&&
“Make sure you rest your voice as much as possible,” Mr. Abrams said as Chris
shouldered his backpack.  “Just a week to go, and you don’t want to put any
unnecessary strain on your vocal chords.”
“Don’t worry, I quit the cheerleading team, too,” Chris said with a grin, glad
that the director was a teacher he could joke around with.
“Excellent.  And none of that caramel mocha latte nonsense.  Tea and honey
only.”
Chris clicked his heels and saluted Mr. Abrams, leaving rehearsal with a smile
once again.  It had gone a little later tonight, since they’d wanted to get all
the way through Act Two, and Chris still had to walk to his car in the outer
lot.
He’d nearly made it through the breezeway when he heard familiar laughter up
ahead.  Shit.  Somehow he’d managed to avoid running into any former teammates,
which had been nothing short of a miracle.  In fact, Eric was the only one who
had sought him out, so maybe it wasn’t just a happy accident.  Chris had quit
midseason, after all, which didn’t earn him a whole lot of respect.
But now there was no avoiding them.  There were three of them.  Cliff, the
starting catcher, was shorter than Chris, but stockier.  Built like a brick
shithouse, he’d once heard an opposing player say.  He certainly wasn’t what
anybody wanted to see when they were trying to steal home base, and he was now
blocking Chris’ path through the breezeway.  Needless to say, they’d never been
buddies.  Two of his friends were leaned casually against the lockers, eyeing
Chris as he walked up.
“Pine,” Cliff said.  “Where you been?”
Chris just barely held back on the why don’t you ask your mom joke, instead
merely saying, “Around.”
“Uh-huh,” Cliff said slowly, which was how he did most everything.  “Got too
good for your teammates, did you?”
Chris actually laughed; it was like the other guy was reading from a script, a
Very Special Episode on bullying.  He wasn’t really worried that Cliff would
take a swing at him, but figured he had about three minutes before the word
“faggot” came up.  Maybe less, since Cliff didn’t seem terribly pleased about
the laugh.
“You’ve gotten along fine without me.  Eric says you guys beat the shit out of
Edgewood last week.”
“Yeah, and you shoulda been with us.  You’re on the drama team now?”
Drama team?  Jesus, how had Chris put up with this kind of shit for two years? 
“Yup, drama team.  We’re going to the thespian semi-finals soon.”
Predictably, one of the other guys – Eli, right field – sniggered at
“thespian,” but it was Cliff who continued to speak.  “Having fun with those
drama queers?  I hear they suck cock better than the dance team.”
Ah, so it was going to start with “queers.”  Chris suddenly felt very tired. 
He’d been wary of this moment for two months, preparing all the things he
wanted to say, all the deeply philosophical jabs that would have these guys
questioning their motives, or would at least stun them into silence.  But now
that the moment was finally here, he just wanted it over with.  Maybe it made
him a coward, but Chris just didn’t want to deal with it.  “Fuck off, Clifton,”
he said without malice.
“Don’t tell me to fuck off,” he sneered, getting up into Chris’ space.
“HEY!”  A shout echoed from down the hall behind Chris.  He turned to look, and
sweet baby Jesus, it was Zach.  Six feet of angry, predatory Zach, channeling
Orin Scrivello but much less menacing now that Chris was standing under the
flickering fluorescent lights of the breezeway.  Zach, Chris thought at him as
hard as he could, please don’t say anything stupid.
“Hey,” he said again, slightly out of breath.  “You wanna mess with someone,
shithead?  How ‘bout you come over here and mess with a real fag.”
Well, so much for telepathy.
Cliff took one look at Zach and burst out laughing.  “Seriously?  Pine, is he
serious?”
“About you being a shithead?  Probably.”
Luckily, Cliff seemed to think it was some sort of joke.  He was an idiot, but
as far as Chris knew, not a violent idiot.  Still, though.  This wasn’t going
to end well, and Chris’ heart shot into his throat.
“Awww,” Cliff said, “I get to meet your boyfriend.”
“Oh, he’s not my type,” Zach drawled, forcing Chris to close his eyes in pain. 
“I like ‘em… brawnier.  So, big boy, do you pitch or catch?”
Zach was obviously the luckiest motherfucker this side of Leprechaun Land,
because the two goons snorted with laughter and Cliff went so red that Chris
was sure he’d burst something.  But instead he just huffed out an obviously
strained laugh.  “Fucking moron.  You’re just lucky I don’t fuck up retards,”
Cliff muttered, turned around, and stomped off with his buddies in tow.
For a long moment, Chris just stood there watching them leave, hearing nothing
but his and Zach’s adrenaline-labored breathing.  When he was sure his former
teammates were gone, he whirled on Zach, staring him right in the eyes before
making a beeline to the men’s bathroom a few steps down the hall.
Zach followed, his face such a perfect, eager picture of I did good, right?
that Chris was almost ashamed to yell at him.  Almost.  “Zach.  What.  The.
 Fuck?”
“Huh?”
He looked so clueless that Chris actually started to get angry, grabbing the
front of Zach’s shirt and hauling him forward.  “What the fuck did you think
you were doing?”
“Backing you up?” Zach said, his voice rising along with his eyebrows.
“How exactly was that going to work?”
Zach swallowed visibly, his enthusiasm rapidly fading into sheepishness. 
“There were three of them.”
“Uh-huh,” Chris gritted out slowly.  “And how many are there of you and me?”
“C’mon, the two of us stood a better chance than just you.”
“If shit were to go down – and it would not have, even if you hadn’t leapt in. 
If shit were to go down, how exactly would you be an asset to me?”
“I… I took stage combat at theatre camp,” Zach said, then winced hard.  “Oh
god, that sounds really stupid when I say it out loud.”
The adrenaline had ebbed, and Chris slowly unclenched his fists from Zach’s
shirt.  Zach looked absolutely pitiful now, and Chris couldn’t help but feel
somewhat responsible, even if Zach was still kind of an idiot.  “You, uh…”
Chris started.  “You like ‘em brawny?”
Zach snorted softly.  “I was going to go with ‘beefy,’ but that sounded too
gay, even for me.  It’s not like I actually have a ‘type’ or anything.”
“And the pitching and catching thing?”
Zach went suddenly pale.  “Look, I don’t really want to—”
“Zach, he’s the catcher.”
“What?”
“For the team.  Every game he squats behind home plate and catches the ball.”
“He… Oh.  Oh my god.”  Zach froze, and Chris was certain he was about to either
burst into tears or hysterical laughter.  He surprised Chris entirely by
starting to hyperventilate.  “Oh fuck, what did I do?  Shit, fuck, fucking…
He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?  He’s going to wait for me in the parking lot
and he and Curly and Moe are going to beat me until my own mother won’t
recognize me.  And that’s if I’m lucky.  Otherwise one of them’s going to grab
me by the hair and tell me I’ve got a purty mouth and—”
“Zach, stop,” Chris yelped, grabbing him by the shoulders and holding him
steady.  “Stop.  Look, Cliff is an asshole, but I’ve never known him to get
violent.  Plus he’s got a scholarship.  Fighting will get him expelled, which
means no more baseball, which means his father actually might kill him.”
Zach whimpered, obviously unconvinced.  He looked like he could be blown over
by a strong wind, and Chris fought the urge to wrap his arms around him. 
“Besides,” Chris chuckled, “if he goes after you, by extension he goes after
me, and that means he’s up against Eric.  Nobody goes up against Eric.  He’s
Australian.”  Zach looked adorably confused and Chris laughed again.  “Baseball
is a complex social structure.  It’s like Jane Austen on steroids.”
“So,” Zach began, seeming to have calmed a little as he processed this. 
“Nobody fucks with you if you’re Australian?”
“Well, it kind of helps that he’s twelve feet tall and can bench press more
than you weigh.”
Zach sagged until Chris was pretty sure his hands were the only thing holding
him up.  “Chris, I’m so sorry about this.  I thought I was…  Fuck it all, I
thought I was helping.”
“Hey, don’t.  It’s okay.”  Chris rubbed Zach’s upper arms firmly.  “It was…
kind of sweet, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.  You were actually expecting to throw down.  Honest to god, apart from
my family, I don’t think there’s a single other person I know who would’ve done
that for me.”
“What about Eric?”
“Eric wouldn’t face down three guys that were stronger than him, threaten them,
and then fucking flirt with them.  Seriously, man, what are your balls made
of?  Galvanized steel?”
By now Zach was actively repressing a smile, his cheeks flushed in the most
appealing way.  His skin was a little shiny with sweat, his chest still rising
visibly with each inhale.  He looked like he’d just been—
Fuck it.
Chris took a deep breath, leaned in, and kissed him.
***** Chapter 3 *****
It was surprisingly easy, maybe because Zach had let himself imagine it.  Only
once, but in great detail – the way Chris would shyly take his hand, stroke his
cheek, and then press his lips gently to Zach’s.
Except Chris wasn’t doing anything shyly or gently.  He was still holding Zach
firmly by the shoulders, hardly allowing Zach any movement at all as their
mouths meshed together.  It took Zach three full beats to catch up, then
another to lick back against Chris’ lips as he planted his feet firmly and
pushed back into the kiss.
Chris pulled back gasping, his mouth red and wet, but before he could dive in
again, Zach planted a hand against his chest.  “Look, Chris, if you’re just
doing this to, like, thank me or something…”
Chris utterly shocked him by throwing back his head and laughing.  “To thank
you?  You think I—   For that?  Fuck, Zach, you’re insane.  How did I not know
this before?”
“Hey,” Zach said, feeling like he should be offended but not quite able to pull
away from the heat he could still feel coming off Chris in waves.
“Zach, you’re crazy and you’re crazy hot and for some reason I am so fucking
turned on right now.”
Chris may have had more to say, but Zach didn’t let him get it out, just
launched himself back at Chris, who only stumbled a little.  Walking backward,
Chris managed to tug them both into the handicapped stall in the back, which
could really only mean one thing…
“Here?” Zach gasped.
“You got a better place?” Chris asked with a grin, nipping just a little too
hard at Zach’s lower lip.
The school had been mostly empty and Zach was pretty sure the janitorial staff
didn’t show up for a few hours, but the thrill of getting caught was still
enough to send a jolt of arousal through him.  He surged forward against Chris,
feeling the impressive hardness in Chris’ jeans press against his hip. 
“Chris,” Zach groaned, mouthing aimlessly at his jaw and neck.  “What do you—?”
“Just fucking touch me” came the impatient reply as Chris clawed at his
shoulders.
Feeling bold, Zach dropped his hand from Chris’ hip, placing it squarely over
the bulge in his jeans.  Zach grimaced in sympathy; Chris was so hard it had to
hurt.  But he didn’t appear to be in any pain now, not as he rocked his hips
spastically against Zach’s hand, and Zach squeezed him through the thick
fabric, feeling out the shape of him, working the length of his cock from root
to tip and back again.
Chris moaned loud and long, and Zach had the passing thought that they could
probably be heard out in the hallway, but the sound was so fucking sexy that he
couldn’t bear to stop.  That didn’t even take into account Chris’ face,
gorgeous even when contorted with pleasure.  Zach rubbed his thumb rhythmically
over the head of Chris’ cock, trapped so tightly in his jeans, and Chris’ whole
body trembled with it.  He was moaning steadily now, burying his face against
Zach’s neck and that just spurred Zach on more, because now he could feel every
gasp, every curse.
Until Chris jerked his head up.  “Zach, wait, stop, I’m gonna— Oh, oh!”  His
voice shot up an octave as his whole body went rigid, his pelvis grinding
against Zach’s hand.  One tight little thrust of his hips, then two, then
three, and Chris went still.  Zach couldn’t feel the wetness seeping through
the material yet, but it was obvious Chris had just come – and from the look on
his face, was absolutely mortified by it.
His cheeks flushed beet red.  “I’m sorry, I—  Shit.”  Chris tried to pull away,
but Zach refused to let him go, just held on to him and mashed his lips messily
against Chris’ until Chris started kissing back, slowly relaxing under Zach’s
hands.
“It’s okay,” Zach murmured against Chris’ lips.  “It was… really hot,
actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Totally.  Uh, sorry about your pants, though.”
“Ugh,” Chris groaned, glancing down.  “Might have some old basketball shorts in
the car.  But first, uh…”  He looked at Zach with wide, vulnerable eyes… and
began to sink to his knees.  “Gotta make it up to you.”
Zach’s mouth fell open, too shocked even to curse.  He’d fantasized about this,
sure, but he would never have considered bringing it up to Chris.  And, though
he certainly wasn’t about to tell Chris, Zach’s entire sexual experience thus
far had consisted of three glorious weeks at drama camp last summer, where he
and a gorgeous guy named Matt had traded kisses and furtive hand jobs after
lights out.  But he’d never… And Chris was… Zach couldn’t even think.
“I don’t, um,” Chris muttered, his fingers fumbling with Zach’s belt.  “I’ve
never done this to someone else.  And I’ve only had it done to me once.  So
just, like, tell me if I’m doing anything wrong?  Because I don’t want to hurt
you, or—”
“Chris,” Zach said, batting away Chris’ hands and undoing his jeans himself. 
“You’ve barely even touched me and I’m about to fucking explode.  Anything you
do is gonna be fine as long as you do it.”
Chris nodded eagerly as Zach drew himself out of his underwear, feeling wholly
exposed.  He and Matt had never really taken the time to look at each other
like this, though it certainly didn’t cool Zach’s arousal any when Chris fixed
his cock with a determined look and licked his lips.
The first touch of Chris’ tongue to the tip nearly made his knees buckle. 
Chris’ hands flew up to steady himself against Zach’s hips, and Zach was
secretly glad for the extra support.  He swayed into Chris’ hold, barely able
to keep from thrusting into Chris’ wet, waiting mouth.  Luckily, Chris didn’t
make him wait long, just took a deep breath and fit his mouth around the head
of Zach’s cock, sucking it like a lollipop.  The noise Zach made was somewhere
between a whimper and a whine.  And when Chris began to lick, curiously poking
his tongue into the slit, Zach made a sound he wouldn’t have even thought
humans were capable of.
How long he managed to hold off, Zach didn’t know, but it couldn’t have been
more than a minute before Chris figured out he could suck and use his tongue at
the same time, and then Zach was gone.  It was so much better than his own hand
in the shower, better even than all his nights with Matt, because even though
Chris was sort of wincing, he didn’t pull away, just held Zach’s cock tight in
the wet heat of his mouth until it stopped pulsing and Zach’s knees turned to
water.
The air felt cold on his wet, softening dick as it slipped from Chris’ mouth,
but Zach had to focus all his energy on staying upright, his body was still so
shaky with bliss.  He had to put his hands on Chris’ shoulders for balance,
swaying with him as Chris yanked a handful of toilet paper off the roll and
spat into it.
Zach grimaced.  He’d tasted his own spunk once, out of curiosity, and he still
wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with a whole mouthful of that.  “Okay?”
“Tastes kinda gross,” Chris said, tossing the crumpled tissue into the toilet. 
And then he grinned.  “But worth it.  Did you know your eyes crossed just
then?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Yup.  Like this.”  And then he pulled an imitation of Zach’s O-face, complete
with tongue half-hanging out of his mouth.
Zach went red, but he couldn’t honestly say that he hadn’t looked like that. 
He really, really hadn’t been thinking about what his face was doing at the
time.  What Chris’ face had done, on the other hand…  “Oh yeah?  Well you
looked like this.”  Zach rolled his eyes back in his head and let his eyelashes
flutter and his lips quiver exaggeratedly.
Chris laughed loudly, struggling up to his feet as Zach tucked himself away. 
“Hey, any time you’d like to help me make that face, I am perfectly okay with
that.”
Chuckling, Zach tugged Chris closer until he hesitated.  “Do you, I mean,”
Chris mumbled.  “You don’t have to kiss me.  Not after—”
Zach kissed him anyway, the taste of himself in Chris’ mouth barely giving him
pause.  It was kind of hot, actually.  He let a hand slip down to fit around
Chris’ ass and groaned a little at how round and firm it felt.  Zach had never
been one to notice asses, but he was pretty sure this one could change his
mind.
Eventually, Chris pulled away, wiping the back of his hand over his wet,
swollen lips and then glancing at his watch.  “Shit,” he muttered.  “I need to
get going, I—”  He took two steps toward the door and grimaced, groaning and
readjusting himself in his pants.  “I really fucking hope I have those extra
shorts.”
                                      &&&
Chris felt like he should be freaking out.  Why wasn’t he freaking out?  Not
only had he swapped fluids with Zach Quinto; he’d been the one to initiate it,
not five minutes after his former teammate had taunted him about it.  Shouldn’t
he be having some sort of identity crisis, or big gay meltdown, or something?
Instead, Chris felt happier than he had in weeks, actually light in his
loafers.  Did anybody even say that anymore, or had he just picked it up from
his slightly inappropriate grandmother?
Besides, he didn’t have the time to freak out.  As opening night got closer,
Mr. Abrams dropped a bit of the cool-guy persona and kept rehearsals incredibly
focused.  Chris was glad for that – if they’d all been allowed to joke around
together, who knows what he would’ve let slip.
As it was, he would catch Zach’s eye and get a quick, knowing grin in return. 
He would see Zach coming up the stairs, see the confident set of his shoulders
and remember back to the face he’d made when Chris had sucked him dry, and
think Yeah, I hit that.  It was like a secret they shared.  The only problem
was he had no one to tell.
He came very, very close to telling Beau.  She sat next to him at lunch one day
and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have the urge to flee.  He
just asked her how the studying was coming along.
“You look good, Chris,” she said.  It sounded like something the long-suffering
twenty-something girl in a romantic comedy said to her heartbroken ex-
boyfriend, and Chris almost laughed.  But he felt good.  He had to bite his lip
to keep from telling her why, just to see the expression on her face.
Even though he and Zach hadn’t touched each other since that night, Chris beat
off almost religiously to the thought of Zach’s hand tight around his cock, the
idea that Zach might get down on his knees, smile in that wicked way of his,
and…  That was usually as far as he made it before he was groaning into his
pillow and coming in hot spurts all over his hand.
The only part that was awkward was That Scene, as he’d started to call it in
his head.  They’d been visibly shyer around each other on stage, but Mr. Abrams
seemed to assume it stemmed from the debacle with the old dentist’s chair
(which Simon had dragged to metal shop and now swore up and down would support
the weight of a dancing elephant).  They’d reblocked the scene to make it less
physical, though now Zach’s line “The things I’m gonna do to that mouth” was
quickly becoming the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard, and he had to dig
his short fingernails into his palm to keep from laughing.
Tech rehearsals flew by, and dress rehearsal did much the same.  By that point,
only a fraction of his brain was free to think about whatever this thing with
Zach was, because most of it was occupied with the desperate desire not to fuck
up while on stage.  For some reason, he kept messing up his lines with Audrey
II, thrown by having to speak to a large, fake plant while Karl’s voice came
booming out of the speaker behind it.  All Chris could picture was Simon curled
up inside the enormous papier-mâché flowerpot with the trapdoor in the back,
working the plant’s wide “jaw” with one arm and wiggling various roots and
tendrils with the other.
All he got from Zach was a quick, sloppy makeout after dress rehearsal in the
small pocket of space beside the stage after everyone else had left.
“I have to be getting home soon,” Zach sighed against his lips, but he didn’t
make a move to push away from the wall that Chris was pressing him into.
Chris groaned, nuzzling Zach’s cheek.  “Just a little while longer?”  He hated
the pleading tone in his voice, and pressed his mouth to Zach’s neck to suck
and nip.
Zach laughed a little, and Chris could feel it rumble up through his chest. 
“Wow, when you go for something, you really go for it.  That’s totally hot.” 
Chris shivered at the words, accidentally biting down a little too hard, and
Zach yanked his head up.  “Hey.  We said no hickeys.”
“Sorry,” Chris murmured, trying very hard to regret it, but Zach just grinned.
“Not until after the show,” he said, kissing at the corners of Chris’ mouth. 
“Then you can mark me up all you want.”
Groaning again, Chris pressed Zach harder into the wall, their bodies flush
together from shoulders to knees.  He ground his crotch lightly against Zach’s
hip, sighing at the shock of heat that suffused his body, wanting more but
remembering all too well that he hadn’t replaced that extra pair of shorts in
his car.  Plus, they really didn’t have much time.  His mom would be wondering
where he was and calling him at any moment.  But with Zach curling his fingers
around Chris’ hips and sucking at his bottom lip, he was able to forget all of
that.
It was Zach’s phone that rang first, though.  Chris pulled away reluctantly,
unable to tear his eyes from Zach’s reddened, swollen lips even as Zach
reassured his mom that yes, everything was fine and yes, he would be home soon.
“Gotta go,” Zach sighed, tugging Chris close for one last kiss.  Or rather, one
last lewd, wet lick into Chris’ mouth that left him gasping.
                                      &&&
“Red leather, yellow leather.  Red leather, yellow leather.  Red leather,
yellow leather,” Zach chanted hypnotically as he paced the hallway beside the
auditorium.
The first of his many roles in the show, apart from some narration on a
handheld mike behind the curtain, was that of a hobo in the song “Skid Row,” so
he did his usual vocal exercises in a crumpled old flannel shirt and an
oversized pair of grimy khaki pants.  The pants were from a brief period in
middle school when he’d worn all of his clothes three sizes too big, though
they were still short enough that his ankles stuck out.  The shirt, fittingly
enough, belonged to Chris.
Speaking of which, he hadn’t seen Chris since they all split to get dressed. 
They didn’t have a dressing room, which meant they separated by gender to
change into their costumes, then reconvened in the ladies’ room to do makeup,
since it had a separate section with a large full-length mirror.  Zach had
gotten stubble and grime sponged onto his face, but Chris still hadn’t made it
to their improvised makeup studio.
Zach found him back in the men’s room, clutching the sides of the sink like it
was the only thing keeping him vertical.  Realizing there was no one in there
with them, Zach set a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to kiss him… but got
shoved rudely away.
He stumbled back, shocked and hurt until Chris looked up at him and shook his
head pathetically.  “I puked,” he muttered, his face as pale as Zach had ever
seen it.  “I might not be finished.  With the puking.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Zach said, fighting hard not to laugh.  Chris really didn’t
need that right now, but he looked so utterly wretched that Zach sort of wanted
to rub his head and scratch behind his ears.  “Get it all out now.”
“I was fine in dress rehearsal,” Chris groaned.  “What’s wrong with me?”
Zach hazarded a commiserating hand on Chris’ upper arm.  “It’s really common.”
“Do you ever get stage fright?”
“Well, uh.  No.”  Chris glared at him.  “Maybe when I was little?  I don’t
remember.  But if you told me to, like, go stand at third base while you hit
balls at me, I’d be terrified, too.”
Chris’ pitiable expression suddenly broke into a giggle.  “You said ‘balls.’”
Zach rolled his eyes.  “Feeling better now?”
“Well, I’m thinking about your balls now, so…” Chris scratched his chin
thoughtfully.  “Yes.”
“Excellent.  My nuts cure stage fright.  Good to know.”  He leaned in again to
kiss Chris on the cheek, then changed his mind at the last second and licked
him instead from jaw to temple.  “Finish puking and go get your makeup put on. 
You don’t want to go out there looking like that.”
Grimacing, Chris wiped at his face with his sleeve and flipped Zach off in the
mirror.  “I swear, you say the sweetest shit to me.”
                                      &&&
Despite not having any visible pockets, Simon had managed to produce a tin of
Altoids from somewhere, so at least Chris’ mouth no longer tasted like
something had died in it.  His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, though.  It was
awful.  He tried to remember back to his first baseball game on the varsity
team – he must have been nervous the first time he went to bat, but he couldn’t
remember anything like this.
Karl, Rachel, and Jennifer had already told Chris to break a leg.  Anton nearly
wished him good luck, but Karl managed to clamp a hand over his mouth just in
time.  He seemed to be seriously considering making the poor kid run around the
theatre three times and ask for permission to come back in (“To defunk the bad
hoojoo” explained John), but Mr. Abrams insisted they didn’t have time and
shepherded Anton off to the lighting and sound “booth.”
The audience was filling up – Chris caught bits of crowd noise whenever the
door to the stage swung open.  “How many people, you think?” Chris asked as
Simon came back out from fiddling with something on stage.
“’Bout three-quarters full, I think,” Simon said with a grin, and Chris felt
the color drain from his face.
John threw an avuncular arm around his shoulders and said, “Some people will
tell you to picture the audience in their underwear.  I never really got that. 
What helps me is picturing Zoe in her underwear.”
Unfortunately for John, Zoe was not only right behind them, but she had already
changed into her pointy-toed shoes, and quickly kicked him in the back of his
knee so that his whole right leg went dead.  His arm slipped off of Chris’
shoulder and he slumped to the floor.
Well, at least John hadn’t said anything about picturing Zach in his
underwear.  That would just be… Oh fuck, now Chris was doing it.
“Hey.”  A hand clamped down warm and firm on his shoulder.  Zach.  “You know
what to do.  Just go out there and kill it.”
Chris risked a shaky smile.  “And by it you mean you, right?”
Zach grinned.  “Eventually, yes.  Try to wait until the end of Act One,
though.”
“No promises,” Chris said, his heartbeat returning to some approximation of
normal.
He saw Zach glance around quickly – everyone seemed distracted either by their
pre-show jitters or by each other.  For just a moment, Chris felt a hand
squeeze tightly around his.  Then it was gone, but Zach was still smiling
faintly at him.  Chris felt like he should say something, but before he could,
Mr. Abrams was coming back in, telling them to get to their places.
This was it.
Chris looked down at John, who was still on the floor and making soft
whimpering noises.  “Need any help, man?”
“Eh, he’ll be fine,” Zoe said, hooking her arm in Chris’ and pulling him
through the door.
                                      &&&
Zach would’ve loved to see how often he could grab Chris’ ass between scenes
without anyone noticing, but Chris was onstage for essentially the entire
length of the play.  He really had to give Chris credit – Zach wasn’t sure he’d
been in anything that required this much stage time.
The audience was really responding to Chris, and it was easy to see Chris
gaining confidence from their attention.  Zach changed into his business suit
for his next quick role just in time to see Chris sing “Grow For Me,” his love
song to the still-tiny plant.  He milked the moment Seymour first feeds Audrey
II his blood for all it was worth, wrinkling his face in agony as he mimed
squeezing a drop of blood out of his finger.  On the last strain of “Won’t you
please… grow for me?” the audience burst into applause.
The scenes flew by and before Zach knew it, he was onstage in his leather
jacket, wielding a shiny dental pick and backing Chris into the chair.  All the
giggles they’d had in rehearsal drained away, replaced by the audience’s gasps
as Chris shoved Zach off of him and pointed the gun with a shaky hand.  But
Zach’s can of laughing gas killed him before Seymour could get the chance, so
with an exaggerated glance around the stage for witnesses, Chris hooked his
hands under Zach’s armpits and dragged his lifeless body offstage, ending Act
One.
“That was awesome,” Chris gasped, still breathing a little hard from dragging
Zach across the stage.  His cheeks were flushed but he was grinning like a
madman, finally able to celebrate his first taste of performing for an
audience.
“I know, right?” Zach said.  “We’ll make an applause junkie out of you yet.”
Chris tugged him to his feet, and Zach almost, almost leaned in for a kiss, but
then his other castmates were surrounding them, doling out high-fives and fist
bumps and babbling about the fact that John had nearly dropped the tiny Audrey
II, just barely managing to catch it before it fell.
“You guys are acting like I was juggling the goddamn thing,” John hissed.  “It
was not that bad.”
“It wasn’t.  I was right next to him and it really wasn’t,” Chris chimed in,
clapping John on the shoulder.
John shot him a look of profound thanks, and Zach had to zip backstage before
he made a fool of himself and really did kiss Chris in front of his friends.
                                      &&&
Chris didn’t have to fake the emotion – he was literally about to cry when Zoe
died in his arms, begging him to feed her to the plant.  The lights went to
black, since they didn’t have a budget that allowed them to build an actual
man-eating plant.  How Karl and Simon had done what they’d done with the money
they’d had sort of baffled Chris anyway, but he was quickly learning that with
Simon, it was better just not to ask.
Chris quickly darted offstage after Zoe, nearly running into Zach.  It was
their final scene together, and the beginning of Chris’ final scene, period. 
Chris barely had a moment to catch his breath before the lights went back up,
but the light pinch on his butt made him smile, ready to take on the scene.
His own death wasn’t nearly as poignant and drawn out as Zoe’s had been.  As he
charged the Audrey II with a fake machete, Simon brought the plant’s head down
on him and the lights faded to black again.  All he had to do was sing the
finale with the others who had been eaten by the plant.  He quickly rumpled his
costume and smeared some stage blood on his face and hands, doing the same for
Zach when he returned wearing his Orin costume again.
They lined up with John and Zoe, went onstage, and exhorted the audience not to
feed the plants, the cuttings of the Audrey II that had been sold around the
world.  As the song came to a close, Karl started up his maniacal laughter over
the speakers, Simon shook the plant’s roots for all he was worth, and at the
back of the theatre, Anton tugged the string that would make green crepe-paper
“vines” fall from the ceiling on to the audience.
Even though Chris had thought the whole thing seemed a bit tacky in rehearsal,
he could hear the audience shrieking in some combination of glee and terror as
the curtain closed.  There were some thudding sounds and soft swearing as Simon
climbed out of the plant machinery to join the other for the curtain call.
When the curtain opened again, Chris nearly tripped over his own feet on the
way back out.  They all lined up and bowed together on Zach’s cue.  The three
chorus girls stepped forward and took their bow, followed by Zach and John, who
got a few playful boos.  Zach mugged it up, tugging at the lapels of his
leather jacket and shooting a perfect “fuck you” look at the audience – they
cheered and booed even harder.
Then Chris took Zoe’s hand and stepped forward and people started standing up. 
Chris wasn’t sure where his family was, exactly, but they weren’t the ones to
start the standing ovation.  Zoe had to raise Chris’ hand for him and squeeze
it to remind him to bow, which he did a little too hastily before stepping back
to join the line.  Karl and Simon took their bows last – well, Karl bowed and
Simon gave a delicate little curtsy.  When the whole cast bowed again and the
audience remained on their feet, whooping and hollering.  Chris thought he
heard Eric’s voice from somewhere on the left and made a mental note to smack
him later for being so loud.
By the time the curtain closed for the second time, Chris felt high as a kite. 
He didn’t walk off the stage – he practically bounced.  Backstage, everyone was
giving each other congratulatory hugs, so he didn’t feel the least bit ashamed
of throwing his arms around Zach.  The little kiss he snuck against his neck
when no one was looking, though, that he felt a little silly for.
                                      &&&
Zach had to let Chris go pretty quickly, unfortunately, lest people get
suspicious.  Besides, they had costumes to change out of and adoring fans to
attend to.
Chris must have changed and made his way back out into the auditorium first,
because Zach spied him talking to a couple of big, burly guys.  His former
teammates, had to be.  Zach quickly tamped down the twisting he felt in his gut
and pushed through the crowd to find his mom.
When he found her, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed both his
cheeks loudly.  “Mo-oooom,” he whined, but blushed hard at the adoring smile on
her face.
“Amazing, Zachary, as always.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Now you can start studying for your tests earlier than the night before,” she
said, not unkindly, but Zach felt a burning in his throat.  Did that really
have to be the second thing she said to him after a show he’d worked all
semester on?
Suddenly, Zach felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned to see Chris’
parents standing behind them.  He greeted them politely and turned back toward
his mom.  “Mom, this is Mr. and Mrs. Pine.”
When Zach had told her who Chris’ dad was, she’d gone on and on about how
handsome he was on TV.  Ever since, Zach had been dreading this moment, certain
his mom was going to embarrass the hell out of him, but she just said, “Nice to
meet you both” and shook their hands politely.  Though possibly, in Mr. Pine’s
case, just a little bit too long.
“You must be very proud of Zach,” Mrs. Pine said with a warm smile.
“Oh, yes,” Zach’s mom replied.  “I just don’t know how he does it, memorizing
all those lines.”
“He’s really very talented,” Mr. Pine said.  “I could see him having a future
in the business, if that’s what he wanted.”
Zach’s mom’s eyebrows shot up.  “Oh?”
“I’ve gotten to talk with him a little bit and he takes it seriously, puts an
incredible amount of work into it.  It’s just hard to tell because he makes it
look so effortless.”
Zach stared intently at his shoes, trying to keep his face from bursting into
flames.
His mom said, “I know he’s talented, I do.  If it were up to me, he’d be a
movie star tomorrow.  But it seems like such a hard business to get into, and I
don’t want to see him get hurt.”
Geez, did his mom even still remember he was there?  But Mrs. Pine spoke up
quickly.  “It can certainly be difficult.  But for someone willing to work
hard, with the right connections…”
Zach’s mom looked like she had something to say to that, but Zach couldn’t take
any more.  “Uh, Mom, I think Mr. Abrams wanted us backstage… for a thing… he
was going to talk to us.”
“Okay, go on,” his mom said, not letting him go until she’d planted another
kiss on his cheek, then continuing her conversation with the Pines.  Zach
slipped through the crowd as fast as he could without being overtly rude to the
friends and parents who wanted to congratulate him.
When he got backstage, Chris was standing flat up against the wall as if trying
to make himself invisible.  “I’m not going back out there, man.  I was just
talking to Eric and some old lady kissed me.  On the mouth.  I don’t even know
who she was!  I feel sort of violated.”
Zach just laughed.  “Get used to it.  If you keep this up, women of all ages
will be throwing themselves at you.”  That actually seemed to frighten Chris,
his eyes going even wider, and Zach laughed even harder.  “You… you have no
idea, do you?”
“What?” Chris said, looking genuinely confused.  Two months ago, Zach would’ve
wanted to punch him in the throat for it, but now it was just sort of
endearing.
“You’re a fucking star, you idiot.  You’re stupidly good at this,” Zach said
without a hint of jealousy, for once.  “Though I have to say, I’m pretty happy
that the thought of women sexually assaulting you doesn’t turn you on.”
“I’m not afraid of women, Zach.”
“Course not,” Zach said.  He figured Chris wasn’t lying when he said he still
liked girls, too, but that was no reason not to give him shit about it at every
possible opportunity.
Their conversation lulled and Zach could hear the commotion still going on in
the auditorium.  The rest of their castmates were probably out there by now,
and soon the cameras would come out and the moms would start demanding group
pictures.  He and Chris should really get back out there.  But maybe not yet. 
Not just yet.
The backstage hallway was deserted.  Chris leaned toward Zach with unmistakable
intent.  “You looked so fucking hot in that leather jacket.  Can we…  I mean,
not here, but maybe in the bathroom…?”
Zach would’ve made a joke about Chris’ erotic predilection for bathrooms, but
his eyes were so wide and blue and inviting that laughter was the farthest
thing from his mind.  He felt himself growing hard at just the thought of
having some time alone with Chris, but…  “We’d better not.  The cast party and
everything.”
Chris’ sad puppy eyes did make Zach laugh, though – he was too adorable to be
real.  In the end, Zach couldn’t help indulging him a little.  “Alright,” Zach
sighed, as though it were some kind of burden to him.  “Just a ki—”
Before he could even finish the word, Chris had pulled him close by the front
of his shirt, his lips surprisingly soft and sweet against Zach’s.  Zach just
grinned and looped his arms around Chris’ waist, enjoying this one private
moment before they had to go out and face the crowd again.
                                      &&&
 “And, to conclude this toast, I would like to say that I feel God in this
Applebee’s tonight.”  Most of the people around the large table chuckled, and
John grinned and said with a final flourish, “Congratulations to all my
castmates and a huge thank you to our amazing director and mentor, Mr. Abrams!”
Everybody clapped loudly, and Rachel even stuck her fingers in her mouth and
whistled, drawing the attention of the few remaining patrons who weren’t at
their table.  With that, John sat back down, rightfully pleased with himself,
and set to polishing off the last of his fries.  Not that he had long to enjoy
it.
“Ripping off lines from The Office?” Karl muttered, shaking his head and
stealing a fry off John’s plate.  “That’s your big idea for a toast?”
“I didn’t rip it off, it was an allusion to a pop culture staple.”
“Uh-huh,” Karl said.  “You know, one day you’re going to have to make up your
own jokes.”
John spent a few seconds longer than was comfortable trying to come up with a
witty reply, and ended up just sticking his tongue out at Karl.  “Shut it,
plant boy.”
Karl clapped a hand over his heart.  “Oh John, you wound me deeply.”
Trying to quickly change the subject, John nodded in the direction of Zach and
Chris, who appeared to be arguing very intensely over something.  Then Chris
rolled his eyes and Zach broke out into peals of laughter.  “Hey,” John said to
Karl, “you think there’s anything going on there?”
“Well, I think they’re finally getting along now.  Thank god.  We didn’t need
to have two divas around here.  Divos?  Divas?  Assholes, anyway.”
John shook his head at Karl’s thickheadedness.  “No, I mean do you think. 
There is something.  Going on?”
“Do I—?”  Karl looked at John, then over at Chris and Zach, and then back to
John again.  “Between those two?  No way.  Are you mental?”
“Well, look at them, they’re all…”  John turned back around to see Zach
cramming the last of his burger into his mouth and Chris facing away from him,
talking to Zoe now.  “Well, they were.”
“Sure they were, John,” Karl said, looking at him with pity.  “Suuuuure they
were.”
 
                                   Epilogue
“Shit.  Ooooooh, shit.  Shitshitshit, Zach, you gotta—  Oh, shit.”
Zach pulled off Chris with a wet pop.  “Is that the only word you know? 
Charming, Christopher.”
Chris groaned, his head thumping back against the ground.  “Well, I was about
to come, but since my grandma’s the only one who calls me Christopher…”
He broke off pretty abruptly when Zach wrapped his lips around him again.  As
fun as it was to feel Chris squirm with every twist of his tongue, Zach’s whole
face was starting to ache, so he went back to sucking hard and playing with
Chris’ balls, as he had been when Chris had started up his litany.  Soon
enough, Chris’ cries went up in pitch, a sure sign that he was about to erupt
over Zach’s tongue.  Zach did try to swallow, but Chris just kept coming and
coming, and soon Zach was coughing and wiping his mouth on his sleeve and
trying to look like a sex god instead of a teenage boy with numb lips and a
sore jaw.
Chris wouldn’t have noticed either way, though.  He’d gone limp against the
ground, not even bothering to tuck himself away.  “Fuuuuuuck,” he groaned. 
“There is no way that’s the first time you’ve done that.”
“Well, I uh…”  Zach crawled up to lay beside him in the grass.  “I may have
looked some stuff up.  On the internet.  And practiced on a cucumber.”
Still panting, Chris laughed a little.  “I can’t decide if that’s sick or kind
of hot.  Maybe both.  I’m gonna be jerking off all week to the thought of you
sucking off a cucumber.”  He blindly reached over to slap Zach.  “And now I can
never go grocery shopping again.”
Zach almost made a comment about how the girth of the cucumber left something
to be desired from Chris, but really, there hadn’t been as big of a difference
as he had thought.  Seriously, Chris must have been the talk of the locker
room, not that Zach wanted to remind him of that.  Though the mental image of
Chris wandering around naked, oblivious to the jealous stares of the other
guys…
“Fuck, I’m getting hard again,” Zach moaned, reaching down to rub himself
through his jeans.  His dick was still a little too sensitive for it, but even
the slight pain felt good, a reminder of Chris’ hand roughly stroking him not
fifteen minutes ago.
“Hey, slow down there, porn star,” Chris grunted, finally pulling up his pants
and underwear, then groping himself lightly through the fabric.  “Next time I
want to try you jacking us together, like you were talking about.  That sounds
really hot.”
Zach knew Chris was teasing him by calling him a porn star, but still… Chris
had gotten pretty loud there at the end.  Luckily, there wasn’t anyone around
to hear.  The lot had been abandoned since Zach was a kid – he and his brother
used to go there and build forts and play jungle, long since the age Zach
suspected Joe really enjoyed it as much as Zach had.
Now, though, Chris and Zach had staked out a little spot under the open air and
beaten down the grass – mostly by rolling around in it – to make an area to
comfortably lie in.  They’d had to fib to their parents to make it happen, the
classic “each told his parents he’s staying at the other’s house” gambit.  Zach
did feel a little bit bad about it, but he finally had Chris to himself – all
to himself, no danger of somebody walking by or bursting in – so he couldn’t
bring himself to really feel sorry for it.
They just laid there side-by-side for awhile, looking up at the few stars they
could see and listening to each other’s breathing.  Zach was actually kind of
glad they weren’t facing each other – it was the only way he could ask his next
question.  “So… you think you’re going to audition again next year?”
He could practically hear the gears whirring in Chris’ head and his heart
nearly stopped.  He was pretty sure Chris wouldn’t go back to baseball, but
he’d said before that he’d only be doing this one play.  But it wasn’t the end
of the world if Chris said no.  They could still see each other, when Zach
wasn’t at rehearsal and Chris wasn’t… doing whatever he did when he wasn’t
acting or playing sports.  If Chris still wanted to see him, that was.  They
hadn’t talked about it – hadn’t talked about much of anything really, except
the play and some books and what, precisely, Zach wanted to do to Chris’ body. 
Maybe Chris wouldn’t be interested in hanging out if they weren’t doing a
play.  Maybe…
Zach had nearly worked himself up into a stomachache when Chris finally asked,
“Will you be mad if I say yes?”
“Nope,” Zach said, suppressing a smile even though Chris couldn’t see it.  He
fisted his hands in the grass to keep from rolling on top of Chris right then
and there.  “But don’t think I’m just gonna let you have the lead role again.”
Chris snorted.  “Uh-huh.  ‘Cause that’s totally what happened.  What play are
we doing in the fall, anyway?”
“I don’t think Mr. Abrams has made up his mind yet.  But I’ve been pushing for
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead.”
“Seriously?”  Chris turned his head to look at Zach.  “You want to memorize
Stoppard dialogue?  You can’t bullshit that – you flub one line and you’re
screwed.”
Zach was momentarily impressed.  “You know the script?”
Chris looked away again.  “I, uh.  May have a bit of an artistic crush on Gary
Oldman.”
“Artistic, huh?”
“Yup.”
“Purely aesthetic.”
“Yup.  Well, no, not like that.”
“Whatever you say, Chris.”
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