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Fic: In Production (2/7)
Master Post | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
Previous
***
Day eighteen is a killer. It shouldn't be, it's only a handful of scenes and most of them are dialogue driven - no stunts or highly difficult camera setups - but the wrap scene is pivotal and Gerard wants to get it right. It's Spaceboy and Rumor's scene on the roof; the pivotal scene for the closest thing to a romance the film has. It's also the only real kiss.
Gerard really wanted to shoot this scene on location, he knew the exact building in New York he wanted to use, but there was no way the budget was going to stretch that far. When he found out it was going to have to be a set piece, he took Frank and Andy Hurley the visual effects supervisor, to New York with him to show them what he wanted. They both took endless photos, Frank capturing every detail of the building while Andy snapped away at the skyline and surrounding vista.
Gerard has total faith in his crew, but he was still skeptical that a set would sell as well as a location shoot. But the set piece on Stage Five that Frank's created is an exact replica of that rooftop in New York, from the crumbling rusted out water tower right down to the sculptured detailing on the railings. The illusion is only spoiled by the large green screen rigged behind it where the skyline should be; but that's where Andy and his stable of visual effects vendors will come in, filling in the sky and all those distant lights and towers that would be in the background behind Rumor and Spaceboy.
Andy calls Gerard over between takes, showing him a rough composite of the first wide shot where he's keyed out the green screen and replaced it with one of his location stills. It's rough, but as Gerard eyes the image on Andy's computer, he can see it's going to work. Which means the success of the scene only rests on Gerard being able to get the performances from his cast.
Andy Whitfield and Maggie Gyllenhaal have an interesting chemistry, it's part of the reason he cast them as Spaceboy and Rumor. They can slide from sizzling sexual tension to the familiar annoyance of two people who know too much about each other. Gerard needs equal amounts of both in this scene and getting the balance right has him calling for take after take. Maggie and Andy are blessedly cooperative, but it's still hard work. Trying to find the right words to direct them down to the tiniest subtle nuance of their performances is mind scrambling and by the time they've reached the wrap shot Gerard feels like he's used up all his words.
When the last take is good and Joe calls wrap, the exhaustion Gerard's been fighting all day hits him hard. As he leaves the sound stage with Mikey by his side, he's looking forward to being horizontal, whether it's back at his accommodation or just flopped out on Bob's couch. Even still, when Mikey mentions Brian's working with Cillian Murphy on Stage Nine and he wouldn't mind a visit from Gerard, that's exactly where they go.
Stage Nine is one of the smaller stages. The space is dominated by a huge bluescreen stretched between steel supports. In front of this retina-burning blue backdrop Brian is floating, hanging from two taut wires connected to a harness around his waist. He's got his legs folded under him as casually as a third grader sitting on the floor and it takes a moment before Gerard notices Cillian suspended on wires opposite him, echoing his posture shakily.
"Now remember, you've been doing this all your life so it's gotta be completely natural." Brian's talking as comfortably as if he were sitting on a hard surface.
"I feel like I'm going to rupture something," Cillian complains. "How do you make it look so easy?"
"You've got no core! Come on, it'll hurt tomorrow, but it'll be worth it. Engage those abs."
Cillian seems to pull up a little straighter, leaning one elbow on his knee and resting his chin on his hand. For a brief moment he slips into Séance, floating like in one of Gerard's rough character sketches, before Cillian groans and his legs fall out to dangle beneath him.
"You'll get it," Brian says encouragingly.
"You had it," Gerard chimes in, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. Cillian and Brian both turn their heads, finally noticing he's joined them. "You had the pose perfect for like, three seconds."
Cillian laughs lightly, ending on a groan. "I'll need to get it for longer than that."
"It'll get easier, I promise. Soon it'll be second nature." Brian's nothing but encouraging and Gerard can see that Cillian's responding well to him. "How about we call it a day and I'll run some stuff past our fearless leader?"
"Thank god." Cillian gives an exaggerated sigh, wrapping arms around his middle with a groan. "You're a slave driver Schechter."
"And you're a Prima Donna," Brian retorts, but there's no malice in it the way he's smiling.
On cue, one of Brian's assistants starts lowering Cillian down to a waiting mat, leaving Brian the only one in the air. He looks down at Gerard with his hands on his hips, one leg extended, the other bent at a ninety degree angle with his foot resting on his knee. It's an odd pose, strangely casual and strong at the same time. Gerard squints up at him, already getting a crick in his neck from the angle.
"So what have you got for me?" Gerard asks, keeping his voice friendly but businesslike.
"Bit of everything. Just trying to get styles down," Brian responds, not even sounding out of breath. He leans backwards until he's stretched out horizontal, folding his hands behind his head and crossing his legs at the ankle. "Séance feels casual and loose to me. He's a bit of a smart-ass, right?" He tips back further until he's upside-down, legs still crossed, arms still folded and still completely relaxed. "You know what I mean?" He raises an eyebrow, dropping his arm out in a questioning manner and the pose is so perfectly in character for Séance Gerard needs to blink to make sure it’s still Brian up there.
"Yeah, that’s good." Gerard nods up at him, thinking the movement and attitude are all spot on. "I think you’ve got him figured out."
Brian barely has time to shoot him an upside-down grin before Cillian chimes in, "Right. Because I’m going to be able to do that," with a sideways smile that says he’s only half kidding.
"Give me time, Cill. You’ll get it." Brian speaks with complete confidence and Gerard’s already too impressed with him. Cillian just snorts and let’s his PA lead him away, giving them a half-assed wave as he vanishes out the stage doors. Brian flips himself upright and gives Gerard a conspiratorial smile.
"He’ll be fine. He’s a bit weak around the middle but that’ll change in a week or so. He’s going to hurt so much." Brian’s cackle is knowing and slightly creepy. Gerard just smiles, relieved that his job is firmly planted on the other side of the camera. He figures this secretive sharing is some kind of ploy Brian is using to get him on side, but that doesn’t mean it’s not working.
Brian runs him through a few more moves and poses, focusing on getting stances and attitudes for each of the main gravity-defying characters. Gerard doesn’t need to give him a lot of direction; his instinctual interpretations of movement and style for the main protagonists are pretty close to Gerard’s, which is a great starting point.
Gerard's carefully focusing on the big picture, the way Brian's acrobatics will fit look on the screen, how he wants to shoot them, what angles will work best. He can appreciate the skill involved in what Brian's doing but he purposefully does not concentrate on the flex of Brian's arms, the shift of the muscles in his legs, the grace and power of his body in motion. Well perhaps at an aesthetic level . That's completely all, though.
Just like when Brian's back on the ground, stretching his arms upwards as his crew help extract him from the harness, Gerard's not looking. He's taking the cell phone Mikey's handing to him and listening intently to whatever the fuck Dewees has to tell him about location changes for next week or some shit. Something far more important than the glimpse of Brian's chest he gets when Brian lifts the hem of his t-shirt to towel his face, flashing firm muscle and a smattering of hair and ink.
He gets Dewees to repeat the information to Mikey, just in case.
He's handing the phone back to Mikey when Brian comes over, hair damp with sweat and slightly short of breath.
"Hot work, huh?" Gerard asks and immediately wishes he hadn't.
"Not really," Brian replies, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. "It's the humidity that's the killer."
"You've got that right," Gerard agrees, nervous laugh trilling out of him like a fucking tool. God, it was so much easier being prickly with Brian. Nice is way too hard.
"So, can we talk carnival? I have a bunch of ideas and I just want to get a fix on what you're thinking." There's real excitement in Brian's voice and Gerard would be lying if he said it wasn't just a little bit contagious.
"Sure, fire away." Gerard knows he's smiling too wide, but he hopes that can just be categorized under his artistic enthusiasm. Brian launches into half a dozen pretty well formed strategies for the carnival. There's a couple Gerard's not sure about, but for every single one he can see where Brian is coming from and even if it doesn't line up with what he wants, he can see the merit in it.
They wander the sound stage, Brian firing ideas and questions and Gerard shooting back answers and more questions. It's not as casual as it is with Frank, or as mind-readery freaky as Ray, or as well worn and comfortable as talking it out with Bob, but it's in the vicinity. It's the kind of communication he never had with Otter, and he can see why Revenge suffered from the lack of it.
By the time they've talked themselves out, Gerard's startled to find they've been going for nearly two hours.
"Shit, it's nearly nine. Sorry, you're probably still jetlagged to fuck and I'm keeping you up." Gerard's first instinct is to apologize, which is a nice change from his old instinct to bite Brian's head off.
"Don't worry about it." Brian waves a dismissive hand. "This is gold. Talking this out probably saved me days of going down the wrong track. Thanks for taking the time."
He presses his hand into Gerard's, giving it a firm shake and Gerard is not concentrating on how warm the press of his palm is, the firm squeeze of his fingers. This is professional. This is work.
"No problem. You need any more input let me know, well... let Mikey know, okay?" Gerard's voice sounds too strained, his smile too crooked, but Brian doesn't seem to notice. He just nods, bringing that errant lock of hair down on his forehead making Gerard's stupid brain scream boyish and he bites the inside of his lip to contain a wince.
Mikey rescues him, ushering him out of the sound stage and back towards his trailer.
Too late, Gerard remembers what time it is. "Fuck, Bob. Did you tell Bob he could go?"
"I told Bob he could go. Like, an hour ago," Mikey confirms, the resigned sigh in his monotone only really detectable to Gerard or their mother.
"Thanks." Gerard shoots him a smile. Thank god for Mikey.
"Yeah, whatever. What the fuck, though? You guys couldn't shut up. I didn't think there were that many stunts in this film." Mikey sounds a bit whiney, but then it's a general rule that he doesn't like staying late if there isn't a red-hot emergency.
"There's a few."
"Mhm." Mikey's hum means so much more than Gerard wants it to. For now, he chooses to ignore it.
"Take me home. I need to pass out."
"Roger that." Mikey lets it lie. Because Mikey is awesome.
Later, in the darkness of his bedroom it's possible that Gerard replays some mental footage of Brian's rehearsal session. It's possible he lingers on that glimpse of Brian's chest. But it's on his own time, not work time, so that's nobody's business but his.
***
Patrick Stump's been showing up on set every day at call time like clockwork. Pete can tell he's jet-lagged, but the executive is not giving anything away. Still, Pete can't help feeling like there's a lot more going on than just the studio wanting a presence on set to keep them in line. There's something about the way Patrick seems to pay attention to every detail, like it's all being carefully catalogued even though he barely speaks. Pete can't help being intrigued even if it makes him a little nervous. He's used to being under the studio microscope, but this guy seems way more switched on than the normal caliber of studio hack. Too switched on.
So far Patrick hasn't brought any studio drama with him, but it's early days yet. He's a nosy fucker for sure, requesting constant updates on the day to day budget and schedules which have kept Ryan busy at the photo-copier, because Pete knows better than to hand over editable files to a studio exec. You never know where they'll end up.
He needs to keep Patrick sweet, though. Patrick is Pete's special project and he's going to figure out how to get him on side if it kills him.
He's got to start at the start though, no point trying to leap into the middle. This kid's gonna be a slow burn, he can tell.
"So, do you have plans for dinner?" he asks point blank, catching Patrick's arm on his way to his hire car at wrap on day twenty. Well, there's no point beating around the bush. He catches the flash of bewilderment in Patrick's expression before he slips his executive face back on.
"Ah... no, actually," Patrick admits, which Pete was expecting because let's face it, no one on set is talking to the guy. He's Tom's guy. He's studio. That's scary. So he’s probably facing a night of bad TV and room service, which Pete is more than happy to rescue him from.
"Well now you do. I know this great seafood place. Come on, I'll ride with you." He doesn't give Patrick time to say no, just climbs in the passenger side of his hire car and makes himself at home. He can leave his own car here and get Ryan to drive him in tomorrow; he's got to strike while the iron is hot.
Patrick stands outside the car for a moment, a look of confused thoughtfulness briefly visible on his features before he shrugs almost imperceptibly and pulls the driver door open.
When he fires the engine and Space Oddity comes firing out of the stereo at a moderately loud volume Pete has to clench his arm by his side to prevent a victorious fist pump. Particularly when he notes that it's a CD playing and not the radio. Now this - this he can use. Patrick reaches for the volume control like any polite driver would, but Pete shoos his hand away.
"No don't bother - I love early Bowie. All Bowie really. You know he nearly lost me on Outside, but Heart's Filthy Lesson is so brilliant he won me back over. The guy's a genius, you know?" Pete lets himself gush and he can see that Patrick wants in on this, there's opinion bubbling in those greens, but he's being all executive-like and keeping his trap shut. It's time to pull out the big guns.
"Seriously though, I'm not sure about the acting gig. He should maybe just pick one thing to focus on, stay with the music - that's where the talent lies ."
"You should watch your mouth, Wentz. Stick to what you know." Pete has to bite his lip to keep from grinning at Patrick's level tone. He is so in.
They battle it out for the twenty minutes it takes to get to Main Beach. Patrick is almost evangelical in his support of Bowie's film involvement and Pete has to admit his opinion is swaying, but he will not be moved on how categorically awful The Hunger television series was. Patrick is fair in his assessments; he doesn't talk over Pete, and he actually listens to his opinions before he shoots them down with devastating skill. Pete can respect that.
By the time he's directing Patrick to a parking spot on Tedder Avenue, Pete's managed to wring three smiles from Mr Stump. He's counting. Most of them were in response to the most outrageous thing he could think to say at the time, so it seems absurdist humor might be Patrick's thing.
Tedder Avenue is a short strip of shops, cafes and restaurants that believed the local council's hype about Hollywood on the Gold Coast. It wants to be a little LA and it will never know just how short it falls because it's highly doubtful any of the residents have ever, or will ever, see the real thing. A large percentage of the international crew are bunking here, including Pete.
He directs Patrick into the too-expensive-for-what-it-is-but-still-pretty-good restaurant where a waiter, who is most likely also an actor, seats them and recommends some local wines. Patrick studies the menu with a sense of boredom that can only be achieved from years of solo dining. Pete wonders when the last time he had a home cooked meal was, but he doesn't ask. It's too soon for that.
Pete waits until their food is served before pulling out his best get-them-onside question. "So what's your story? How'd you get into this crazy movie business in the first place?"
"Well that's a long and boring story." Patrick doesn't even look up from his plate.
"Is it? Come on, tell me. I'm interested. Pretend you're the producer and I'm the executive and this is gonna be the next summer hit," Pete prods, keeping it playful but he sees the eyebrow twitch, the little swallow Patrick makes on the word "producer". He files it away carefully. That will be useful.
When the pause in the conversation starts to get uncomfortable Patrick just jumps in. "I started as a runner, worked my way up to PA and then I was in R&D for a few years, script reading."
"You've read mountains of scripts then."
Patrick nods, pressing a pattern into his mash potato with his fork. "So many. I think in Final Draft now. This whole conversation we're having is indented, centered and our names are capitalized. I'll probably put a note in the margin to cut it ."
"Cut it - but why?"
"It's boring and it doesn't advance the plot."
"But it's character development. Character is as important as plot. Come on, finish your story and I'll give you mine." Pete gives Patrick his biggest, goofiest smile, eyebrows dancing like his character backstory is something to get excited about. "How'd you get from script-reading to the upper deck of Universal?"
Patrick pokes his barramundi before finally speaking. "It was when indie was becoming the rage. I plucked out a handful of scripts that didn't suck for the brand new independent arm of Universal - they were cheap to shoot and they made a lot of money. Tom decided I had "the eye"." Patrick shrugs like this isn't a big deal. Like being singled out by the head of Universal and given the keys to the kingdom was just a small step in his life journey.
"Not bad. He'd know after all."
"Would he?" Patrick counters. And fuck there's so much in that. So much in Patrick's look that he's not saying and Pete is desperate to know all of it. But he's being baited. Patrick is waiting for him to leap on this, trying to expose him as the fishing, details-digging spy that he is, so he doesn't touch it.
Instead, he launches into his own character backstory, sparing no details. From his rich kid childhood, through film school, through his starving, living in squalor and not-getting-paid period working on his early indie films right up until Infinity On High, his breakthrough feature that became The Crow for the emo generation. Patrick laughs at that comment.
"I don't know if you're talking yourself up or down."
"A little of both," Pete says honestly, finishing the last of the wine. Patrick's had two glasses and he's looking relaxed and sleepy. And really, kind of cute. He's traded his flat cap for a fedora today and Pete thinks he likes this look better on him. He has to bite his tongue to keep that opinion to himself because hitting on the kid executive at this point will do nothing but unravel his entire night’s very careful work.
As the waiter clears their plates away, Pete leans back and considers the executive sitting opposite. He still hasn’t figured him out. Not really. Everything he’s got out of the guy tonight has just posed more questions than answers. But Pete’s no quitter. He’s going to get to the bottom of this. Before Patrick gets called back to LA and the nest of Universal, Pete's going to make sure he's got him on their side one way or the other.
***
Gerard’s really glad he doesn't have to deal with Patrick Stump. At least not directly, that's why he has Pete. Pete’s been handling it too, stuck by the executive’s side day in and day out and Gerard’s not sure who he feels sorrier for.
Just having a studio guy in residence makes him uncomfortable, but at least Patrick isn't actively interfering with anything... yet. It's only a matter of time before Patrick starts channeling Tom Meyer and Gerard's not looking forward having to defend his creative decisions on his own goddamn film. He's got enough stuff to deal with already.
Like Bradley fucking Cooper. Gerard is fairly certain the actor isn't intentionally going out of his way to drive him crazy. He probably thinks that asking a lot of questions shows his commitment and interest in the role, which is great, except for how it's also slowing their pace down to a crawl. After a lot of barely-related questions about Kraken's backstory chew up at least half an hour of good shooting time, they wind up wrapping Bradley's last scene late. Gerard's still fighting to catch up even after they move onto the next scene with Kodi. Gerard is still two setups behind when Joe calls lunch, but he's pretty sure he can make up the time. He rarely needs more than three takes from Kodi, the kid is something of a savant.
Gerard fills his plate and slides in beside Mikey at one of the long trestle tables under the large marquee where they eat every day. It's a surprise when Bob and Spencer show up and join him at the table.
"Hey what's the big event? You never eat on set," he protests. Bob and Spencer are more 'fill your plate and take it back to the cutting room' kind of guys.
"New world order," Bob says, stabbing his fork into an unwary vegetable. "Spencer's making me."
"I'm sick of not knowing anyone at the wrap party. Post crew's gonna be more social on this one," Spencer decrees, with more than a hint of haughtiness. "It’s weird knowing everyone’s faces from dailies and them not knowing ours. I feel like a creeper." He pokes Bob with a bony elbow. "Come on, Bob. You love it."
"I didn’t choose a career sitting in a dark room behind a monitor to suddenly become Miss Betsy Social," Bob mutters and it sounds like an old argument. Either way, it’s an argument Spencer’s already won because Bob is here, not in his dark room.
"Miss Betsy who?" Pete’s asks, settling beside Mikey with his plate and surprise, surprise he’s got the damn executive right behind him. Now Gerard has to watch his mouth in what’s supposed to be his downtime. Patrick takes the seat beside Pete while Ryan slides in beside Bob further down the table.
"Bob, you know Ryan right?" Spencer making introductions between two people Gerard sees daily draws focus to just how out of the loop the post guys really are. It’s kind of sad.
"We've been in the same room at the same time a lot, but no, not properly." Bob gives Ryan The Nod. "Nice to meet you properly." Ryan gives Bob a wide smile and the way Spencer is glancing between the two of them with his lip twitching makes Gerard wonder if something is up. But no, this is Bob. Bob and Gerard are teammates in their staying-off-the-whiteboard status. It's nice to be in company on that.
"I was beginning to wonder if you actually existed or if Spencer just made you up." Ryan's still smiling at Bob and Gerard's thinking he's never really noticed quite how pretty the kid is. Yeah, pretty is the right word for it.
"Oh he exists. Bob just tends to fly under the radar. Invisible hands putting the pieces together." Gerard fills his voice with mystery, accompanying the comment with completely appropriate Spirit Fingers.
"The invisible hands are sitting right here," Bob grates outs, looking slightly pink and reminding Gerard that there's a reason Bob likes his quiet dark room.
"Yeah, don't pick on Bob. He's not Schechter," Mikey chimes in and oh fuck you little brother.
"Oh, you did not just go there." Gerard turns a look of fire on Mikey.
"Oh come on, you can't stop it there Geeway. I have heard so many stories about this," Pete jumps in, practically foaming at the mouth.
At which point Bob decides to open his trap. "I have footage."
"Bob!" Gerard shrieks, because this is far more of a betrayal than is warranted for some tiny crack about invisible hands. He has to defend himself. "I was under so much pressure that day. And you know, I don't think Patrick needs to hear all our old bullshit stories. Sorry, Patrick."
"Oh, I wouldn't stand in the way of a good story. Do tell." Patrick is grinning. The fucking executive is grinning. To which Pete responds by bumping shoulders with the guy and muttering, "character development," sparking a secret exchange of smiles which is really just too much at this point.
"Oh, Jesus Christ." Gerard's intense frustration is evident in every syllable.
"Yeah it was a lot like that." Bob pitches his voice up, crying, "Oh Jesus Christ just rig the fucking car already."
Mikey chimes in and they chant the last part together, "Why are there so many questions?!" Of course instead of looking abashed by all this, stupid Mikey just points at stupid Bob and they laugh like a couple of stupid fucking idiots. Because Mikey has no family loyalty whatsoever and should have been drowned at birth.
"Great, you guys, just great. Please can we relive the lowest point of my professional career again?" Gerard doesn't add in front of the fucking executive, but he does dance his eyes in Patrick's direction in a meaningful way.
Bob just smirks. "Like I said, I have footage. I wouldn't have had to show it to everyone individually if you'd just let me put it in the Revenge goof reel like I wanted to."
"Bob, I can't believe you've withheld this from me. As your producer I demand to see this footage." Pete is grinning so hard Gerard's surprised he can speak past his giant, stupid teeth.
"Can I come too?" Ryan asks Bob with a tentative smile and there is something not quite normal about the way Bob grins back at him.
"Of course. All are welcome. The cutting room has an open door policy for exposing key crew to Gerard's embarrassing past."
Gerard has no recourse but to sink his head into his hands and hope for it all to be over. Soon. Thankfully, Ryan appears to have a tiny shred of decency because he instigates a change of subject.
"Great. Hey, have you guys been to Stage Eight to see the Icarus yet? Looks amazing." Ryan directs the question at Bob and Spencer and Gerard already knows the answer.
"I see the sets every day, all day." It's Bob's standard answer.
"On your monitor," Spencer argues, rolling his eyes. "It's not the same."
"Right. You should see it for real. Frank's done an awesome job." Ryan makes a good point but he's not going to have a lot of luck on this one, Gerard knows. He's managed to get Bob to go to set maybe five times in the last three films, and every single time Bob's looked so incredibly uncomfortable and out of place he's felt like the world's worst friend. It's amazing how someone who looks so collected and settled sitting at his Avid can look so completely lost when you put him on a set.
So it's a real surprise when he hears Bob's response. "I guess. Maybe I'll stop by."
When Gerard looks up from his hands Bob is smiling at Ryan. It's not a friendly crew member to fellow crew member kind of smile. Fuck, Gerard didn't even know Bob had a flirty smile, but there it is. Ryan's beaming an answering grin right back at Bob and Spencer's looking way, way too satisfied with himself .
Something unprecedented is definitely going down. He makes a mental note to get Mikey to check the whiteboard in a week or so.
***
Gerard tries to shake the clinging embarrassment from his crew's little nostalgic sharing session at lunch, but it's hard. Once he's dumped his plate he still has fifteen minutes before he has to be on set, so he waves Mikey and his death-trap golf cart away in favor of walking across the lot to the sound stage solo. He could use a little brain space.
The sun beats down on him as his feet pound the pavement, trying to shake off unwanted memories. Like the expression on Brian's face two years ago on the set of Revenge, the day he lost it. It was a mix of shock and anger, his throat working in a way that told Gerard it was taking a lot of control for Brian to keep his mouth shut. It was all there in the flush of his cheeks, the way he bit his lip when he turned away; dropping whatever questions he'd had and heading back to the rig, his movements stiff with rage.
Gerard can still remember Joe's apprehensive glance and Mikey's carefully blank expression. Not to mention Bert's knowing smirk and Gerard's own bubbling frustration, bursting out like water from a busted pipe, spraying in all the wrong directions.
Gerard doesn't want to be that person again. Having Brian around to remind him and his crew of exactly how out of control he was two years ago is getting to him more than he hoped it would. He's not going to fall into that trap this time, though. He's not going to let his personal shit fuck with his head. This should be easy, because he's not going to have any personal shit. Not on this one. It's too important.
He finds himself hovering in the doorway of Stage Nine, where he can see the stuntman in question pacing through fight choreography with Bradley and Andy. Brian's got Bradley in a neck hold, his hands loose and he's gesturing widely at Andy, demonstrating and explaining. He finishes with a comment that has all three of them laughing, before they break apart and Bradley and Andy take up positions on either end of the mat.
Brian glances over and catches a glimpse of Gerard where he's loitering in the doorway, waving him over with a smile that does a lot to extinguish Gerard's paranoia. If Brian can be this easy with him now, then maybe it's not all as huge as it feels in his mind. He glances at his watch, he still has ten minutes up his sleeve, so he trots over, shooting Brian a smile that's genuine. Brian's returning grin is wide, crinkling his eyes at the corners and showing his teeth. The effect is quite devastating.
"Check this out." Brian nods his head at the two actors, clapping his hands and telling them, "Let's run it for Gerard."
A look of apprehension crosses Andy's face, but he smoothes it out of his features consummately, giving Brian a nod.
Bradley isn't so subtle. "I don’t think we're ready yet, Brian." He starts to launch into what Gerard recognizes as one of his talky spiels that's cost the production a lot of minutes, but Brian cuts him off.
"It's no big deal, we're just rehearsing. Right, Gerard?" Brian arches an eyebrow at Gerard, his smile is casual, but there is something conspiratorial in his eyes.
Gerard follows his lead. "Right, no big deal. I'm just passing through."
"Great. Let's run it from the top." Brian concludes, and just like that Bradley shuts up and does what he's told. Fuck, amazing. Gerard's going to have to remember this approach next time Bradley's feeling chatty on set.
They run the fight sequence, Andy and Bradley shoving, flipping, throwing and bouncing off each other. It's early days, some of their movements are still loose and occasionally their timing is off, but it's going in the right direction. There's the right combination of trained martial arts moves and dirty fighting that suits Kraken and Spaceboy. Andy and Bradley finish in the hold Brian was demonstrating when Gerard arrived, Andy holding Bradley by the neck, both actors panting with exertion.
"This is where we're up to." Brian explains. "Pretty good, right?"
"Pretty great." Gerard corrects him with a smile. "Nice work, guys." Gerard's rewarded with a nod from Andy and an actual smile from Bradley.
"Is this all going to work with Spaceboy's..." Gerard starts to direct the question at Brian, fumbling when he can't find the words to describe Spaceboy being part monkey and mostly computer generated.
"You mean the fact that Spaceboy is three times the size of Kraken and mostly CG?" Brian poses the question perfectly.
"Yeah, exactly."
"Don't worry," Brian lips curl up in a half grin and Gerard nearly loses his train of thought at the sight, fuck he's got to concentrate. Brian continues easily, "I've run everything past Hurley, as long as I don't get legs and arms in at the same time he can sort out the CG side." Brian shoots Gerard a smirk, "You will write a character who is three times the size of everyone else, though. You trying to make my life difficult?"
Gerard laughs, short and sharp. "That's what Ray keeps saying. Fucks with his framing having to keep leaving space for, you know," He waves a hand at Andy, "The rest of him."
Brian's laugh is throaty and it twists up Gerard's insides. Gerard shoots a desperate glance at his watch, his ten minutes are nearly up. "I'd better get to set. Thanks for the sneak peek."
"Anytime." Brian gives him another smile, keeping pace with Gerard as he make their way to the stage door.
"So, you're on the Academy front lawn set tomorrow, right? Cillian's on wires." Gerard asks, recalling the advance schedule from today's call sheet.
"Yeah, he's ready." Brian answers the question before Gerard even asks. "He's not gonna join the Circe De Soleil, but he's ready."
"Great." Gerard hovers on the threshold of Stage Nine, feeling oddly like Brian's walked him home and he's standing on his front porch waiting for a kiss. He pushes down the mad thought and sticks out his hand with a muttered, "thanks". Brian's fingers are warm and dry when they envelope Gerard's and his grip is firm. It's a struggle for Gerard to keep the smile on his face and not snatch his hand away like he's been burned. He pulls it off, shaking Brian's hand and trying to ignore the way his heart's skipping over itself.
He thinks he does a pretty good job of keeping it professional, but the moment he steps out of Stage Nine he can feel his face flooding with warmth. He hopes his color will settle by the time he's reached set. If it hasn't, he'll just blame the heat.
***
The cost of Patrick's hotel stay is starting to nudge the equivalent of four or five basic visual effects shots by the time he hears from Tom Meyer directly. It's a late hour for a call, but phone etiquette doesn't seem to apply when time zones are involved. He's in his hotel room, feeling full and half-sleepy after another meal out with Pete, which seems to be becoming habitual.
He snatches up the phone; on sighting the international number on the call display he figures this will be his call back to base. He's nearly out of clothes and more than ready to be home on familiar ground, plus the studio must need him back yesterday. Not to mention, the black hole of culture that is the Gold Coast feels like it's sucking the life out of him.
"Patrick, its Tom Meyer." Tom's usual abrupt greeting is no surprise.
"How are you Tom?" Patrick keeps his voice light, balancing the phone on his shoulder as he starts pulling shirts off the hangers and folding them into his suitcase.
"Excellent. You know the check for overtime has gone way down since we sent you out, Stump. I'm impressed. Good work."
"I don't know that it was all me, Tom." Patrick tries to put a smile in his voice.
"Don't be modest Stump, you're doing well. How are you liking Australia? You should settle in, I want you there for the long haul."
"Excuse me?" All the lightness drops from Patrick's tone as his ticket home extinguishes right in front of him.
"I need you to stay on, Stump. You're doing a great job keeping these assholes in line. We might even come in on budget. I want you on this one for the rest of principal photography." The words bring a rush of warmth to Patrick’s face. This is not what he signed on for.
"Tom, I can monitor this from LA, I don’t need to be on the ground." Patrick knows the argument won’t fly but he has to try.
"You know you do, Patrick. You know you do. Keep up the good work. Try and get some Aussie ass while you’re there." Tom hangs up before Patrick can mount any kind of argument. He stares at the phone in his hand for a long moment before cursing loud and harsh.
They are only four weeks into a sixteen week shoot. That means he's stuck here for another three months.
Patrick’s mind is a rush of details. His apartment, his mail, his cleaning lady, the three internet dates he had lined up this month, his bills, his bank account. He needs clothes, toiletries, an apartment with a kitchen and a fucking drugstore. There’s only one answer for it.
He calls Travis.
***
"So it looks like you're stuck with me." Patrick's words take a moment to register with Pete. As he stares at the executive perched on the squeaky chair in his office in his tweed slacks and polo shirt, Pete's mind rushes to play catch up with his ears.
Patrick is staying. He's staying?
"I want out of the Versace and into something more livable. I want an actual office, with a desk. Most importantly though Pete, I expect to be added to your email chain on all things involving budget and schedule." Patrick recites his laundry list with as much enthusiasm as he uses ordering a meal, which isn't a lot.
"Sorry," Pete waves a hand, "Can we go back to the part where you're staying? Define staying."
"Until the end of principal photography." Patrick's tone is level but there's something in his eyes that is nearly an apology.
Pete grips the edge of the desk until he feels like his knuckle bones will burst through his skin. This is not happening. This is not happening. They can't saddle him with a fucking babysitter for the whole shoot. This is inhumane. This is...
"Class A studio interference," Patrick supplies for him. "I know what you're thinking. It's not my call, Pete."
For once in his life, Pete has no words. No words he can say in front of Meyer's fucking guy anyway. There's lots of words roiling in his head, most of them four-lettered. This is complete bullshit.
"This is complete bullshit." So much for his filter. "No offence, Patrick."
"None taken."
"Right, you do see where I'm coming from though?"
"Our temporary situation has become somewhat permanent." Patrick holds his hands wide, one eyebrow arched. Everything in his manner says he's not happy with this outcome either. "Argue it out with Meyer if you like, I hope you win."
"It's not a thrilling prospect for you either, is it?" Pete offers.
Patrick just shakes his head. "No offence."
"None taken." Pete's smile is thin.
"I packed for two weeks. I'm out of clothes and I don't have my assistant." Patrick scrubs a hand over his eyes, looking suddenly tired and ten years older. Patrick gets the tiniest glimpse of just how unwelcome this news was for the executive. However shitty it is having a babysitter, it's probably shittier for the one doing the sitting.
"Oh, we'll get you your assistant. Don't worry about that." Pete's already doing the mental math, because if Patrick's ready to ditch the Versace for something real, that money can be re-purposed for another body's housing and per diem.
"Also, I think I hate the Gold Coast."
"Join the club. We're getting t-shirts made." Pete grins and Patrick actually manages a weak smile in return.
Pete's still pissed. Annoyingly, unreasonably pissed at the fucking studio and their fucking bullshit but maybe, if he looks hard enough, he might be able to find a silver lining here.
***
"Tell me again why I’m doing this?" Gerard’s pulling on sneakers – shit how does he even own sneakers – and ignoring the hat Mikey’s shoving at him.
"You want Pete’s reasons or your reasons? Because I can’t really recreate Pete’s big ass speech about morale and team-building with any real conviction." Mikey probably couldn’t either, Gerard agrees.
"Fine. My reasons then." Gerard clambers up from the ground, brushing down his cargo shorts. Damn, but these sneakers are really fucking comfortable .
"Because Pete’s making you." Mikey hands him back his coffee and Gerard immediately slurps up a mouthful. "Oh, and Frank might see a spider."
Gerard grins around his takeaway coffee cup. Frank’s been talking at length about how Australian spiders are extra scary because they can kill you. He lets Mikey shove him towards the door, continuing his reasoning to Gerard. "And Brian might take his shirt off at some point."
Gerard nearly trips over, his face flooding with warmth. "I hate you," he declares with feeling, shooting an incinerating glare at his traitor of a brother, but of course it has no effect on Mikey whatsoever, he’s too busy being smug.
The sunlight outside is blinding as they make their way to the car. Gerard really can’t fathom how Pete talked him into this. He has a pile of storyboards to pore over, dailies to re-watch, plus hours/days/weeks of sleep to catch up on and yet instead of any of these fine pursuits, he’s going to spend his first free Saturday trudging through leaves up some fucking mountain. Possibly getting heat stroke. Definitely being eaten by bugs.
He climbs into the car and sighs deeply. Mikey just raises an eyebrow at him, completely unsympathetic, shoving a tube of sunscreen and a bottle of insect repellent at him. Gerard makes a disgusted noise. "Which one first?"
"Like I have any idea," Mikey mutters and turns the key in the ignition .
***
Pete looks only slightly more ridiculous than Gerard. He's wearing a white cloth hat with a wide brim and there's white zinc painted across his nose. His shorts can't figure out if they are knee-length or capris, and he's wearing a t-shirt with a koala on it. He's even managed to drag the poor executive along for the day of torture in the sun, though it seems Patrick was smart enough to avoid the slather of zinc cream. He's looking vaguely normal in a trucker's cap, t-shirt and cargo shorts much like Gerard's.
"No hat Gerard? You know the sun's a killer here." Pete does his best motherly look and Gerard has to clench his hand into a fist to keep from giving his producer the finger.
"I tried," Mikey supplies. "Rejected." He raises his hands in a 'not my problem' way and Pete shakes his head sadly.
"Oh like your hat is giving you so much protection," he grumbles at Mikey. Mikey's donned some jaunty little train-driver's number with the tiniest brim on it. It sits well with the rest of his scenester-goes-trekking ensemble of tight t-shirt, tight jeans and Chucks.
"Not setting a good example for the crew, Way," Pete tuts and Gerard manages to refrain from slapping him, but it takes a lot of self control.
Luckily, Pete is saved from dying by the very artistic hands of his director as the rest of their little trekking group arrive. Frank's dragging Jamia by the arm, already completely sweated up. Ray's coming up behind looking calm as ever, followed by a handful of gaffers and electrics. Somewhere muddled in the back of the group Gerard catches a glimpse of Brian, getting the barest impression of t-shirt, shorts and bared skin before he focuses back on his immediate group.
When the numbers are right, Pete gives them the go ahead to get going.
It's a hot, humid stinker of a day and Gerard is already sweating like a motherfucker before they've gotten ten steps. The group slowly spreads as the fast, slow and in-between trekkers separate and Gerard wishes he had his iPod. He really can't stand the sound of his own breath in his ears. That's not how this is supposed to work though, he should be bonding.
Rolling his eyes at his own thorough indoctrination, he speeds his steps to catch up with Frank's huddle. Frank's greeting immediately makes him wish he hadn't bothered.
"Look how white your fucking calves are, dude! They're glowing!" Frank exclaims, pointing at Gerard's rarely-exposed lower legs.
Gerard counters by pointing at a nearby tree and shrieking. "Oh look, is that a funnel web? They can kill you in two hours, you know."
"Fuck you." Frank flips him the bird, but he still glances towards the tree. And casts a wide berth around it.
Tormenting Frank with descriptions of local deadly spiders and exactly how long their venom takes to kill doesn't keep Gerard distracted nearly long enough. He's bored, sweaty and well over it by the time they reach the checkpoint. Pete and Patrick must have been air-lifted there, they are so well settled in, camped out on deck chairs and drinking cordial from plastic cups . Bob's stretched out on a distant picnic blanket with Spencer, Alicia and - Gerard has to look twice to confirm it - yes that's Ryan sitting with them. At this rate the kid will become an honorary member of the post crew.
Gerard finds an empty deck chair and collapses into it. Mikey drops a bottle of water into his hand before going to join the post crowd. Gerard gives them a half hearted wave, wondering if he's done enough yet, if he can leave now.
He doesn't even look up when a body drops into the empty chair beside him.
"So are you doing the second leg, or are you gonna pussy out, too?" Gerard glances up at the voice and gets an eyeful of hot, sweaty Schechter.
"I'm sorry?" he asks, trying not to stare. Brian's white t-shirt is damp and sticking so tight to the surface of his body it almost looks translucent. He's got a black baseball cap pulled low over his brow, casting shadow over his face that makes his eyes spark that much more. All this torturous exercise and exposure has got Brian looking all sun-kissed and sexy while Gerard's feeling flushed and panting and entirely unattractive.
"The second leg. First five ks is just a warm up, there's still a whole mountain to climb. You in?" Brian looks way too enthusiastic about this.
"No thanks." Gerard waves his water bottle dismissively. "I know when I'm beat."
"Oh come on, don't pussy out. The view up there is amazing. When are you gonna have the opportunity to do this again?" Brian's teeth look far too white against his skin when he smiles.
"Yeah, no. But thanks." Gerard's smile feels more like a wince. Is it possible that he could feel any less attractive right now? Fuck, he wants a cigarette.
"Seriously, Gerard, it's worth it. Just give it a try. I'll keep you company and if it gets too much you can always head back - how's that strike you?" Brian is just not giving up and Gerard knows this is a bad idea. He doesn't have much more left and he really doesn't feel like passing out from heat stroke in front of a hot guy.
"Come on. For me. I'll owe you." Brian's wide grin makes him look about five years younger and way too attractive. Gerard has got nothing. He is powerless against it.
"Sure, okay. What's to lose, eh?" It's like it's not his voice coming out of his mouth. Gerard utters the words without any real thought.
The thought comes afterwards, when Brian's smiling at him proudly, bumping his elbow and saying, "Good stuff," in congratulations. The thought that he's got plenty to lose, particularly his dignity.
Gerard barely has his breath back before Brian holds him to his word, dragging him off to the second part of the trail with barely a wave at large portion of the crew who are choosing to sit out the rest. Gerard gets the barest glimpse of Mikey's expression of amused shock when he sees where Gerard is headed.
If he thought the first five ks were hard, the next make him completely reassess his definition of difficult. It's mostly uphill with long stretches of uneven stairs where he can't even see the top, just stairs right up to the horizon. It's hard work and Gerard knows he's going slower than whatever pace Brian would be going at alone, but Brian doesn't give up, which means by default that Gerard doesn't. Every time Gerard flags, Brian shoves a water bottle at him and feeds him encouragement.
Gerard is starting to get a crazed idea that he could actually do this. That notion vanishes when they get to the Stairway of Torture. Yes, it is actually called that. It's practically vertical. There are chains to haul himself up with. Chains.
"So this is where I politely withdraw," Gerard pants out. He's feeling pretty good to have made it this far, but he knows his limits. His body is not designed for pulling itself up fucking chains.
"You can't pussy out now, we're nearly there."
"You said that like fifty zillion stairs ago."
"Oh that time I was lying, that was just to keep you going. This time it's the absolute truth." He points at the torture climb. "Last part, fifteen minutes I swear."
"Fifteen minutes of hell."
"Think of it as the boss level on like, Super Mario. Last part's gotta be the hardest or you won't level up. You wanna level up don't you, Way ?"
It's completely unfair. Brian is not allowed to use Gerard's video game obsessions against him. Plus he's still got the hot, sexy guy thing happening too. Gerard's legs are screaming, his calves feel like they're tied in fucking knots and yet somehow, by some magical Schechter power, he's nodding his assent.
"Fine, let's get this over with."
It does not take fifteen minutes. If Gerard was wearing his watch he'd know for sure just how much of a lie that was, but he feels like he's fighting his way up that last incline for nigh on three days. Brian doesn't let him quit though, and by the time he has the landing in sight he's surprised to find he doesn't actually want to quit; he really wants to finish this, they are so close.
He fights his failing body and hauls himself up the steep stairway, the chain links clinking thickly beneath his hands. Brian keeps yelling encouraging things over his shoulder like "I can see the top, we're nearly there," which are only slightly less motivating than the rear view he's got of Brian climbing. Brian's shirt is entirely see-through now and his pants tighten over the curves of his ass every time he puts a leg forward and pulls himself up. Gerard can't help feeling like he's the donkey and Brian's the dangling carrot, which are not thoughts a sane person has, but then a sane person wouldn't be trying to shift their own body weight vertically in search of a pretty view.
When his feet hit the lookout deck Gerard can’t believe it’s actually over. He has to lean hard against the railing and wheeze for a while before he can even think of lifting his head. When he does, it’s almost magical. The tapestry of landscape stretches out as far as his eyes can focus, green and brown with a misty haze hanging in front of the distant mountains. It’s so pretty it would probably speed his heartbeat if he wasn’t already dying from exertion.
He turns his eyes from the spectacular view to Brian who’s leaning on the railing looking thoroughly satisfied and grinning fit to burst. It’s a contagious kind of excitement and when Brian pulls out his phone and switches it to camera mode Gerard pushes all thought about how red-faced and ridiculous he looks to the back of his mind and lets Brian manhandle him into frame. He grins vaguely into the lens, super-aware of the weight of Brian’s arm around his shoulder as Brian takes one more version of the photo that’s probably been taken infinite times at this summit.
At least he has proof he pulled it off. He’s pretty sure no one would believe him otherwise.
"I think you just lost a few people some money, Gerard," Brian mutters, admiring the photo on the digital display.
"Hmm?" Gerard tries to focus on anything other than the way Brian is smiling. The thought finally clicks in his mind, "Oh god, people weren’t betting on this, were they?"
"I think this picture’s gonna lose Frank twenty bucks," Brian states with a grin, shoving his phone back into his pocket.
Gerard just laughs. "Serves him right."
Getting back down the mountain is harder than Gerard counted on. On the way up he was so busy thinking about getting to the top he didn’t stop to think that he’d need to salvage some energy to get back down again. They take it slow and Brian regales Gerard with odd stories about stunts gone wrong and other gems from his adrenaline junkie career. Gerard’s pretty sure his body will hate him tomorrow, but the time with Brian without his stuntman face on is almost worth it.
By the time they get back to the checkpoint most of the other crew have long deserted. Gerard can't recognize most of the stragglers who remain, but he knows Mikey will be around somewhere, so he's not worried.
He stakes out a picnic blanket, flopping out on his back and feeling every muscle in his body relax simultaneously when he hits full recline. He can't contain his satisfied groan as he palms his eyes and sighs. Brian flops down beside him, chuckling softly.
"Gerard, you are such a weakling." He presses a bottle of water into Gerard's hand and Gerard sucks down a mouthful.
"Oh shut up. We can't all be fucking athletes."
"Hardly. You're just soft." Brian grins at him and that is it, Gerard's had enough of this shit, he flicks his water bottle at Brian, getting him right in the face with half a bottle's worth of liquid. Brian is still for a moment, shocked, before he twists the cap off his own bottle and fires a blast at Gerard with a flick of his wrist.
It's so fucking on then. Gerard's mouth drops wide in an expression of shock, but he quickly grabs Brian by the shirt and upends the rest of his water right over his smirking face. Brian's gasp is half astonishment, half euphoria as he grabs a handful of Gerard's t-shirt and forces him down on his back, pouring a flood of ice-cold water over his face and neck.
Gerard sputters under the cascade, trying hard not to laugh. The water is a cold shock but it cools him as it soaks in, feeling really good under the hot Queensland sun. They tussle on the damp picnic blanket, Gerard doing his best to force Brian into submission but he's just too strong. The hard crush of Brian's body presses down over him, forcing air out of his lungs and Gerard squirms, every point of contact on his body zinging with sensation.
He freezes, with two handfuls of Brian's shirt, their bodies crashed together where Brian's got him in a strong pin. He can't move and he suddenly doesn't want to. Brian stares down at him, panting hard but looking deep, like he can see right through Gerard's walls, right through to the idiotic attraction he's been fighting since the first day he saw Brian on the set of Revenge, tight shirt and relaxed cargoes, sideburns and smoky eyes. Gerard's wanted him that long. But this is not smart. This is not a good idea.
He wriggles out from under Brian, sliding from his grasp and breaking the barely-achieved moment. He doesn't give himself time to process what looks like the briefest flash of disappointment on Brian's face.
"I need to find a restroom," he lies, crawling to his feet, swearing at himself inwardly.
He stumbles blindly outside the picnic area, not really paying attention, just trying to get away from Brian as fast as he can. He doesn't absorb anything until he nearly trips over Bob.
Bob, who has a lapful of Ryan and they are enthusiastically necking.
Well, fuck. So much for his teammate, his brother in their whiteboard hookup absence. Ryan is all over Bob, hands clasped in his hair, legs wound around Bob's waist. Bob's not passive in this, no way, Gerard does not want to note how Bob's hand has disappeared down the back of Ryan's pants, with the other locked in the pretty young man's hair. Well, shit. Fucking bullshit.
Gerard doesn't say a word. He slips away as quietly as he can, taking the most roundabout, back-ass trail to the parking lot where he slumps down on the curb and waits for Mikey by his car. Mikey takes forever to get back, by which time Gerard feels baked and miserable and confused.
Luckily, Mikey doesn't ask any of the questions Gerard can see hiding in the twitch of his mouth. He just waves goodbye to Alicia, climbs into the car and turns the air-con on full.
Gerard has plenty of time to think about what an idiot he's been the whole way back to Main Beach.
***
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"You've got no core! Come on, it'll hurt tomorrow, but it'll be worth it. Engage those abs."
*pant* *huff* *needs air from giggling*
now i see brian running a work out video, wearing a leotard and sweatbands...
look at you sneaking cillian and maggie in, ALL YOUR FAVORITE PRETTY PEOPLE.
PETE, STOP TRYING TO TRICK PATTYCAKES INTO LETTING YOU GET AWAY WITH MURDER USING BOWIE, BOWIE IS SACRED AND NOT TO BE USED TO WOO.
it's like mario gee, you can do it....
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of course thanks to bee here, now i'm picturing Brian in the "lets get physical" video. nice queen bee
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its not hijacking, its bonus commenting.
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if only I had the internet at home....
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Hahahhaa you KNOW I was gonna get Maggie and Cillian in there. It's MY fantasy cast DAMMNIT. I can cast everyone I want to sleep with.
And Pete is totes sneaky he would absolutely use Bowie as bait to land Patrick.
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But please, for the LOVE OF GOD, don't do it.
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I love how I can really see the Umbrella Academy side of this as well as the bandom. That bit with Brian doing Seance poses was spot on.
And then the rest of this was mostly me going AHAHA, ~come to Australia, you might accidentally get killed!~ Hiking is simultaneously sexy and unsexy apparently. You are doing the ~mystery~ of whatever happened with Gerard and Brian on the Revenge set very well too, I must say.
I will confess to not really buying the Bob/Ryan thing, but that is nothing to do with your writing, which is excellent, and everything to do with me just not really getting it as a pairing.
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I love that you know enough about Umbrella Academy to get the UA side of it too! Ahaahaha! Yes! Come to Australia - we have more things that can kill you than just about anywhere in the civilized world! WATCH OUT FOR THE DROP BEARS.
Ha, I love that you're calling the Revenge era Brian/Gee shenanigans a mystery. Miz pretty much decided they'd had a drunken hookup and there was NO talking her out of it.
Dude I totally understand the Bob/Ryan thing. I am actually a Bob/Spencer girl believe it or not! LOL. I'm so easily
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(Anonymous) 2011-08-21 09:46 pm (UTC)(link)no subject