


Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

by edliw



Category: Queer as Folk
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2014-03-18 12:21:35
Rating: T
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,813
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10002506/1/
Author URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5440119/edliw
Summary: Gale/Randy. It's easy for men to lie; it's easier for men to lie to themselves. What happens when their small "nothing" turns into a big "everything"?





	1. Prologue

_Author's note: Hello! I'm new to fanfiction and some of the fic on here as well as other fic sites have inspired me to write about Queer as Folk. I got into the show recently and have fallen in love with it. I kinda wanted to write about what (I wished/imagined) of gone on behind the scenes, specifically with Randy and Gale (they make a hot pair on screen why not off?). This story is FICTION and I do not own QAF. I also give credit to Billy Joel whose song lyrics I used in the beginning. Thanks._

_-A_

* * *

**Gale**

_Son can you play me a memory_

_I'm not really sure how it goes_

_But it's sad and it's sweet_

_And I knew it complete_

_When I wore a younger man's clothes_

Though Billy Joel on the radio was fucking great, that didn't ease the fact that I had somewhere to be—and that somewhere was not in a tiny dark studio with big hairy men.

Lighting my eleventh cigarette, figuring I would be diagnosed with lung cancer by the time they let me out of this audition, I repeated my lines: "I don't believe in love. I believe in fucking. It's honest, it's efficient. You get in and out with the maximum of pleasure, and minimum of bullshit. Love is something that straight people tell themselves they're in, so they can get laid." I looked up lazily. _Will their grins ever wipe off? _

"I'm sorry," I said suddenly, sighing. "I really need to be somewhere. Is the producer close?"

Hairy-man-one nodded vigorously, "Oh yes! Dan will be here in a second."

"We love you," Hairy-man-two said. "You're genius! You hit those lines spot-on. I know Dan'll love ya! We know he will. If all goes as planned, you'll need to meet our Justin—Brian's love interest. If _that _goes as planned—voila! Hail to the new Queer King!"

"This show," Hairy-man-one added earnestly, "Is a landmark for its generation. Think of the buzz—think of the kids, the married man in the closet who will watch this show and think 'Wow! If Brian Kinney can do it—why can't I?' You'll be a role model for so many. It's monumental."

I was interested, no doubt. I had just gotten into acting when my agent set me up here. "Start your career with a bang!" or some shit like that he said. Well, if being a Queer King and role model is the worst I could do, I'd say I was doing pretty well.

The producer walked in. "Where's my Brian Kinney?"

**Randy**

_Gale Harold. _Sounded gay to me, I thought. Fingering my script, I was less than nervous; I had met and rehearsed with several Brian's before Gale Harold and I was repeatedly unimpressed. The producers were looking at the wrong thing—they've just been seeing the _face, _not really the _look. _With a face, you get a good high fashion magazine spread. With the look, you get a hit character on a TV show.

My phone buzzed: "It's Dan! We're outside the studio I've got Gale with me. We'll meet you in five."

I've never done TV acting before, but my agent thought it'd be good to experience different types of acting in the industry apart from theater. Even if the show is canceled after one episode, it'd still be something for the resume, and actors need to take whatever they can get. Screw it if I just got the part because I'm blonde and cute…who said Hollywood was fair? Or Toronto for that matter.

"Hey sorry we're so late, Randy!" Dan's voice was there, but I froze immediately…_Gale Harold._

He was tall, but not skinny—lean. His features were boyish: soft, pointed, and handsome. His hair was rumpled like a teenager, his eyes were a devastatingly beautiful green. His mouth was pink, his lips pressed. He had a clean black shirt on, jeans, and sneakers.

He was looking right at me.

"This is Gale!" Dan seemed to notice the tension and smiled knowingly. "He's your devilishly handsome new Brian."

"Hi," Gale said, sticking out a friendly hand.

I took it; it was warm and his hands were strong. I gripped his hand for a fraction of a second too long because he pulled away first. _Shit, _I thought. I felt like I was a horny high school boy all over again.

I decided I needed to shake it off, both for my professional and personal sake. "I'm Randy Harrison. I'll be playing the part of your Obsessive Stubborn Boy-Toy."

Gale laughed. "Well, boy-toy, the pleasure is mine."

We smiled.

Dan said, "I'm gonna leave. I have to check up on Ron, call him, letting know what's up with production. You guys get acquainted, read some lines, talk over some of the scenes, get comfortable. If you're both signed on for the parts, _comfortable _is really a feeling that needs to be mutual for some of those scenes." He shrugged. "But I'm sure you guys both got it in you. Call me if you need anything." He left.

Gale chuckled. "Wow," He looked directly at me. "Some show this sounds like. Our first sex scene is pretty involved…I mean I actually put lube up your ass."

I laughed and I hoped it wasn't too quickly. "Yeah…yeah. No, I know. I've done some sexual stuff before, though. In theater. It doesn't bother me. You? What's your background."

Gale looked around the room, locating a sofa on the side under a window. He went to sit and looked at me to follow. We sat with our legs barely touching. He lit a cigarette with long fingers, opening the window above us.

He said thoughtfully, "I mean, I actually don't care about the sexual stuff either. I'm pretty open-minded to that—doesn't bother me. But the whole 'comfort' thing does depends on who it's with. Guess it's good I like you."

I curled my toes in delight. I laughed, impressed by how easy it sounded and replied, "Yeah. I like you too…" I hesitated then choked out, "But wow—to do this—are you even gay?"

He laughed into the back of his hand, flicking ashes across our thighs. He said, "I'm not dick's number one fan when it comes to what's in my ass…taking as I don't _want _anything in my ass…meaning yes, I'm straight. But again, I don't have a problem kissing men or simulating sex scenes. I'm guessing your gay then?"

I shrugged. He nodded.

Somewhere outside the window, a car was blasting Latino pop from the streets. The rhythm pounded through our ears, then faded.

"Kiss me then," I said suddenly. My eyes were daring but my mouth was dry.

Gale's head turned to me in surprise. I wasn't thinking. I told myself not to think. He smashed his cigarette butt gently on the window behind him and then brushed his head over mine. Our foreheads pressed; he breathed in slowly, and I felt his hand rest on my shoulder. He opened his mouth slightly, then closed it, deciding to press both lips firmly to mine. They were warm and musky, and a silent thrill ran through my stomach. He pulled away suddenly. He scratched his temple.

He smiled almost nervously. "How was my attempt? Gay?"

I swallowed and played right along. "Very gay and very good, spot-on for a hetero. You've got the part, though I don't even think it's my decision!"

He laughed and looked away. His fingers looked lonely without the cigarette. I thought his fingers would look good in mine, which made me feel a twinge of regret. _Nothing in his ass, _I thought to myself as we both stood to leave after a few more easy conversations. _He doesn't want anything in his ass. He doesn't want you. _

I wasn't going to be _that _guy—I wasn't my character, I wasn't Justin. I'd work with Gale Harold—we'd be best friends. That's it.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

There was a dainty knock. Peter Paige was heard through the trailer door, "Honey? Randy, the party _will _start with or without us; this isn't the Oscars and we aren't Meryl."

Randy tied his shoes quickly then fumbled with a cologne bottle, almost dropping it on the floor. He spritzed and—with a guttural cough—swung his door open. A half-amused, half-annoyed Peter gave him a sigh.

"What, no dress? No curled tresses? Took you long enough, Jesus! Let's go, baby." He grabbed Randy's shirt by the shoulders and dragged him to the set's parking lot.

Randy observed Gale first. The man was leaning up against his car, smoking lazily. His eyes lit up when he saw the pair.

"Well your Majesties how nice for you to come," He raised his eyebrows at Randy. "What were you doing? Whose to impress I thought you had the job."

Randy rolled his eyes, laughing, "Shut up. Who knows how many cute guys I could be scooping up tonight?"

"Well I can be the first scoop," Scott Lowell cut in, poking his head out from the back of Gale's car, "if we actually _made _it there in time."

Gale gave Randy a wink before he slipped into the driver's seat. Randy joined Scott in the back after Peter had squealed, "Ooh shot gun!"

"It's almost twenty after," Scott was saying as they pulled into the street. "What a great big fat first impression on the whole cast."

"Scotty—we _are_ the cast," Gale said. "It's not like we'll be fucking fired."

"And I'm pretty sure the whole 'TV series' thing wouldn't go so well if they fired the four principal characters," Randy added, smiling cheerfully.

"Mind, hon, fired for being late to our _own _party," Peter flapped a lazily hand. "I think we'll be fine. I hope we don't hit rush hour."

"Nice turn signal!" Gale hissed as a blue Outback flew into their lane.

Randy placed his chin on Gale's seatback. "Temper, temper."

"People are driving like it's fucking New Year's eve!" Gale swerved into the right lane to pass another car that just jumped in.

Randy liked the feeling of his chin on Gale's seat, he liked feeling close to him like that. Suddenly Scott pointed at a street to turn into. Minutes later they were pulling up to the restaurant's parking lot.

Peter hooked arms with Scott and they all went for the door when Gale called out, "Guys, I'm gonna take a smoke before so I don't have to step out later. Randy stay."

Peter and Scott didn't give a fuck at this point and went right in. Randy sighed, silently delighted. Laughter and music filtered through the lot when the restaurant door opened, but soon silence and darkness encompassed them once more.

Gale jumped up to sit on the front of his car and Randy followed suit, saying, "You shouldn't smoke so much."

Gale laughed out loud. "Alright, Ma."

"I don't know how the producers will feel about Brian's sudden death because Gale Harold got lung cancer from being a fucking chimney day and night," Randy knew he was being bratty, but he liked it. He leaned back and lay down on the car, looking up at Gale's frame and his gray fumes.

Gale suddenly smashed his cigar butt on his car, tossing it. He leaned back with Randy, lying directly next to him. He turned to him, inches from his face. Randy smiled questioningly, but swallowed hard. Gale's hands slipped into his pocket and with a flick, another smoke was set to his smiling lips. Randy laughed.

"Fine, die," Randy said. "See if I care."

"I'll die later," Gale sighed. "For me now, death is in that party right there."

"Why?"

"Let's just say I made things a bit more—_difficult_—for myself then I should of," Gale turned his head to Randy again, breathing the smoke out of his nose.

Randy breathed in his fire, watching him, saying, "Tell me."

Gale stared at him with quiet eyes then said, "The assistant to stage props…she was pretty attractive…It was pretty shitty but we kinda sorta _decorated _Emmett Honeycutt's bed with things we shouldn't of."

"You fucked the stage props—"

"The _assistant _stage props—"

"Manager?" Randy couldn't believe it, and was half put out. Gale was so fucking straight he couldn't keep it in his pants with a woman for one second! "You came on Emmett's bed?"

Gale bit his thumb. "I don't want to see her ever again. It's shitty…I feel bad. I just don't hope she's there I mean you know women get—well…You actually _wouldn't _know but…You know."

"Yeah, yeah," Randy suddenly laughed. "Oh god I hope you see her."

Gale nudged his head with Randy's. "Fucking thanks."

They sat up and slid off the car, walking side by side to the door, Gale's arm slung loosely around Randy's shoulders.

"Now," Gale's soft lips were at his ear and Randy almost squirmed, thinking, _Shit,_ "if you see anyone with a vagina and long blonde hair hysterically crying, attempting to slap, pour something on, or strangle me, I'm gonna need your assistance, boy toy."

Randy laughed weakly. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

They entered.

"Our two boys!" Dan immediately surfaced to the front in the crowd. There was a large table in the middle of the restaurant and people chatting loudly in small groups around it.

Dan squeezed himself in between Randy and Gale, calling out for silence—and it was found with surprising efficiency.

"Everyone! I'd like you to meet the stars of Queer as Folk: Randy Harrison on my right and Gale Harold on my left as Justin Taylor and Brian Kinney!"

The crowd erupted in applause and Randy and Gale were pulled apart by separate groups of people; Randy couldn't even see him anymore in the thick crowd.

"Tell me about your theater experiences—what shows, what roles?" their wardrobe designator was saying.

Sherry Miller, who played Jennifer Taylor in the productions, cut in saying, "Oh yes, Randy, tell us! I used to be in the business myself. Now I'm sort of on the side-lines. What were you involved in?"

Randy heard Sharon Gless's—Debbie Novotny's—laugh from across the room and looked up to see her, Scott, Peter, and Michelle Clunie all huddled in the corner and laughing. Regretfully he settled into his 'theater tale', which he had told more often than he would have liked since he was signed on to _Queer as Folk_. Everyone wanted to hear about the gay theater kid.

After around ten minutes of chatting—mostly about New York, _The Phantom of the Opera_, Sardi's, and taxi drivers, Randy managed to escape to where Peter was flirting with one of the hosts.

"I used to love that restaurant ooh baby they had some of the greatest crab cakes of all time!" Peter winked merrily at the bronzed and blue-eyed hunk. "Sadly I don't go into Port Credit as often as I should.

"Oh, Randy baby!" Peter cried, smiling. "This is John—" suggestive look "-our head host. Isn't he dreamy?"

John laughed, eyeing Randy. "You're too nice. At least we have the same taste in food." They both chuckled.

"Nice to meet you," Randy said politely. "Have you seen Gale, Peter?"

"Is Gale your boyfriend?" the host inquired, his face falling. "You're gay too, right?"

"I am but my 'boyfriend' is not," Randy explained.

"He's washing off some champagne this woman dumped on his pants," Peter said breezily. "Scott said that Gale apparently fucked her on set and never met with her the next day like he'd said. For a straight guy, he _should_ have known how seriously women take these things."

Randy grinned. "Oh shit that's awesome."

"You wicked witch," Peter winked. "But yeah. That's what I said. Hal on the other hand is creating some of his own drama."

"What about?"

"He's a wee pissed Dan introduced you and Gale as the main roles. He was talking about favoritism and about how it 'better not appearing in the script' because he and his manager 'did not sign on for a supporting role'."

"Yikes."

"I said that, too," Peter mused, toying with his shirt collar.

"Fuck all this I'm starving," Randy decided. Soon after he said it, Dan was calling everyone to find their seats (they were assigned) and they would begin the meal with a toast.

Randy felt a rush of pleasure when he realized Gale would be sitting right across from him. He was even more excited to find out his nuclear cast mates would be sitting right around them.

Gale was a bit late sitting down, and everyone laughed at the stain the size of—hey!—Canada on his right thigh.

"Guess I deserved that one," Gale told us. Everyone happily agreed, especially Hal.

"You know," he said, matter-of-factly from down the table. "It's not exactly professional to be hopping on every good-looking assistant-someone you see. Especially pre-production."

Gale looked unimpressed. "Gee thanks, Hal. I'll pocket the tip. Save it for a rainy day."

Hal rolled his eyes.

Ron, the second producer, was sitting at the head, on Randy's left, and he called for a toast. He began with, "First off, Dan and I would like to thank everyone here for making this important special little party. It's great bonding, and nice to sharing this time getting to know everyone before we dive into this adventure together." Ron paused, giving the room a fond sweep of his eyes, then cried, "To Queer as Folk!"

"To Queer as Folk," the crowd murmured.

"To however long she may last," Dan added, laughing.

Everyone sipped their champagne.

"Did she leave?" Randy asked Gale as soon as the waiters took their orders. Gale gave him an irritated glance.

"Who cares?" he muttered. "Who even dumps drinks on people anymore like that?"

"It was highly cinematic," Peter cut in.

"Highlight of my night," Scott agreed, blowing bubbles in his drink.

"Well I think you deserved it, Gale," Thea said. "I mean, Jesus! You should have at least apologized." Thea paused, smiling slightly. "Though she _was _a bit of a bitch to me whenever I couldn't find the bathrooms on set."

"You're welcome," Gale nodded to her, but glared at Randy, daring him to open the subject again.

Randy raised his hands in surrender, laughing.

The night went by smoothly. Michelle Clunie and Thea McGill dove into a discussion about Bush, followed by Peter's despair over Dior's less-than-impressive new coat line. Hal even managed to make them laugh, retelling a story about one of his casting auditions gone wrong.

"They made me do the whole audition before telling me 'Bobby' was actually a _girl_," Hal was saying. "Like gee, fucking thanks, right? Who knew 'Bobby' could be a unisex name? Who would do that to a TV character?"

Michelle noted, "Stranger things have happened on TV."

"Hence…" Ron gestured around him. They all grinned.

At the end of the dinner, everyone kissed cheeks farewell, full and cheerful. Gale found Randy in the crowd and grabbed his arm, making their way to the front to where Peter and Scott were waiting.

"Jesus some party huh," Gale was saying. Randy noticed with concern that his walk was slightly crooked.

"I can't believe we start pre-production tomorrow," Peter agreed. "I'm just so excited for this!"

"Gale…" Scott said, noticing how Gale was fumbling with his car keys. "How many glasses?"

Gale looked up at him in the most adorable manner. "Why Scotty I don't know what you're insinuating."

"Hand them over," Scott opened his palm.

"I'm fine! I'm perfect. I could fly." Gale tried again to open the car. Randy snatched the keys from his fingers, giving him a disapproving look.

"Nice try," Randy opened the back door of the car, making Gale go in before him. He tossed the keys to Scott.

"Why am I always playing the responsible uncle?" Scott asked as he revved up the engine. "It's cramping my style."

Gale crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and rested his head against the seatback, murmuring, "Because you act like one."

Peter and Randy snickered.

They were the first back to set so the lot was empty. Scott and Peter decided they wanted to celebrate longer and head out to a quick bar down the street. Randy was exhausted and wanted to get _some _sleep to function tomorrow, since they have a script reading and their first set take around ten. Gale was tipsy enough and also wanted to retire.

"Wanna have a slumber party?" Gale mumbled, twirling his fingers through Randy's hair. Randy swapped his hands away, trying to keep the smile off his face.

"See you cuties tomorrow," Peter called, waving, pulling Scott into a skip.

"SOS!" Scott cried over his shoulder, making Randy and Gale laugh.

Randy pulled Gale's arm over his shoulder, leading him into the set building further to the back where all their trailers were parked outside.

"If you show up looking like shit tomorrow—" Randy grunted as he opened Gale's trailer door, "—he'll cut off both our balls." Randy tossed Gale gently towards the bed. Gale landed softly and stretched out, moaning.

"Oh god I fucking hate parties," he whispered, covering his face with his hands.

Randy smiled, closing the door and leaning up against it. "Nobody told you to have all that champagne."

"You're right," Gale peaked at his through his fingers. "I told myself. I hate these kind of events."

"What? Dinner?"

Gale tried to kick him from the bed. "_Parties._"

"How come?"

"I dunno," Gale sat up, starting to unbutton his shirt, making Randy lower his gaze. "I guess I'm not a people person. I'm not good with them, anyways. Hell, the stain on my pants proves it."

"That's not being bad with people," Randy pointed out, biting his lip as Gale started unzipping his pants, adding them to the pile with his shirt and socks. "That's fucking a girl who called you out on it."

"Yeah," Gale slipped under the covers, ruffling his hair. "Nervous for tomorrow? Big lovely fucking day."

"Oh yeah…" Randy rubbed his eyes.

"Personally I'm interested in these 'cock socks'. Do they even cover our balls?"

Randy tried not to think of Gale's balls. "Oh, um I guess. I have no idea actually. I think it's just enough fabric for our dicks."

"Charming," Gale stared at the ceiling.

Randy bit his lip, taking a deep breath. "Gale—do…Do you think you could tell a hard-on through a cock sock?"

There was a paused, then a laugh. Gale looked directly at him, his eyes shining. "Are you worried you're gonna get hard in our scenes?"

Randy tried to laugh, but ended up just feeling embarrassed. "I mean sort of. I'm a gay guy…we get hard-ons whenever we even _think _of ass. I don't know how it's going to be."

Gale laughed but suppressed it with a smile. He motioned Randy over with his chin. Randy came and jokingly sat on Gale's legs, falling backwards and looking over at him.

Gale closed his eyes. "Listen you asshole. As much as you _want _it to get awkward between us just so you don't have to have the burden of my friendship—"

"Haw haw good one—"

"Let me just say, get all the hard-ons you want," Gale looked at him laughing gently. "I don't give a fuck. Same holds for me I hope."

Randy raised his eyebrows, smiling. "What?"

"You said 'gay guy' before. But let me tell you any type of guy can get horny on anything. Period." Gale patted his arm. "Glad we had this beautiful talk."

Randy sat up, loving Gale's boyish but teasing expression. "Me, too. Honestly." Randy ruffled Gale's hair before getting up to the door.

Right before he left he heard the faintest ruffling and a snap of a lighter. Randy could already smell the smoke. He walked back to his trailer, his own smoky smile playing at his lips.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

The next day the whole cast came together to read their first script, though many of them had already looked over it. Hal began passing out highlighters to which everyone politely declined; he then starting giving out post-its to which everyone _forcefully _declined.

"Take a seat, Hally," Gale said, rubbing his temples. "Please. For God's sake."

Dan and Ron came in, pencils at their ears, ready to start. Gale slept surprising well thanks to his tranquilizers. Randy's little chat felt very nice as well, which probably set the tone for his night. Randy _was _after all the only person on this set who could really lift a mood.

Scott came into the room followed by Randy, where they placed a cup of hot coffee and sugars in front of Gale. Gale raised his eyebrows.

"Golly, thanks," he said, smiling as Randy took a seat next to him.

Randy smirked, Scott blew him a dramatic kiss.

They began the reading and everything went smooth—except of course the occasional every-other-line comment from Hal—and the first episode seemed very sharp, very fresh…very revealing.

"That's when Gale raises your legs to his shoulders," Ron was saying to Randy, scratching notes in his script copy.

Gale rubbed Randy's leg under the table with the outside of his foot, and Randy kicked him, laughing in return.

"Damn," Michelle said as her, Sharon, and Gale were making their way to their respective sets after the sex scenes were explained in full. "This series is really going to piss off every conservative fuck in the country. I love it."

Sharon hooted. "Honey, why do you think I fucking signed up? Well I'll tell ya: that Bush what's his face needs a good spankin in the ass that's why! All of them republicans do. I'll tell ya I'll grab the chance to speak my mind whenever I can and if this is how we're gonna get through to these hoots—I'm in!

"Besides," she continued cheerfully. "This controversial crap always makes excellent television."

Gale laughed, biting into his thumb. They all parted and Gale made his way to Brian's bedroom where their first take will be taking place.

"Hey," Randy was already sitting on the bed, mulling over the script, one of the camera men perched next to him.

"I was jus' telling Randy here," the camera man explained to Gale, "tha we need you at specific angles, just like what was jus' said. I'm reiteratin this cause its _importan._"

They undressed, cock socks wrapped snugly. Randy lay down on Brian's bed and Gale straddled him. Gale noticed Randy seemed particularly flustered, trying to adjust himself under Gale's weight, or his _presence. _Gale placed a steady hand on the side of Randy's neck.

"Stop moving," he whispered. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah," Randy barely looked at him, nodding vigorously towards the producers then adding, "Except is this…Am I at the right…the right angle here? How can we tell if we're uh blocking or, or…"

"I'll tell ya," the camera man said. "'Sides we do takes in lil snippets. You won't go a couple sentences without us cuttin. You'll get used to it!"

Randy nodded. Unfortunately, Gale adjusted himself too much, and their cock socks ended up grinding into each other. Randy took a quick intake of breath and Gale felt him harden.

"Shit," Randy muttered, looking extremely angry at himself. "Shit Gale this is weird I'm sorry."

Gale laughed, trying to make Randy feel better. Randy was being a little overly considerate. Gale said softly, "Sorry for what? Now shut up we've gotta have _some_ footage. I think that's how television works."

Randy looked relieved but still flushed. Gale placed his hand subtly on Randy's chest, hoping it would calm him.

The cameras rolled and Brian was now seen giving Justin a hand job, to which Justin was trying desperately not to come. Though Gale was not actually touching Randy's dick, he _was _rubbing the skin above on his stomach, which still had a troubling effect on his co-star. Randy didn't find the whole 'acting' thing too difficult.

The scene wrapped and the camera man—along with Ron who had popped in to catch a glimpse of the chemistry of their stars—all commended them.

"Thanks, Brian," Randy said, smiling beautifully. "For letting me be your horny gay co-star." Gale had to laugh.

"Anytime Justin." he said. "But shut up."

They had a quick break and Gale decided to chat up one of their main wardrobe designers. She told him, "You know, I was actually thinking at first for Brian to dress really _teeny, _you know? Because he has this obsession with youth, with being young. But then I thought—how _hot _would it be if he were to dress a little less boyish and a little more elegant? Like a Richard-Geere-Pretty-Woman-Calvin Klein-off-the-run-way kinda deal, you know? He _is_ a successful ad-executive after all. Why not have him _look_ the part? Gay guys can dress cool, expensive, and socially respectable, can't they? Not to mention totally manly? Why keep them in tight shirts and jeans? You've gotta appeal to those straight women, Gale."

"I don't think straight women care _what _guys wear," Gale said, picking up a beer from the refreshment table. "I think they care more about _how _they wear it. Sounds like Brian could pull off anything he fucking wants."

"And he will," the woman winked. Gale chuckled, shrugging.

Gale and Randy were called back on set for part two of their sex scenes—this one being the part where they actually have sex rather than oral.

Gale slapped Randy's ass with his shirt to which randy yelped, spinning around in a laugh. Gale grabbed him, pulling him down on the bed, tickling his neck.

"Lie down, twerp," Gale said roughly. Gale was surprised that he felt a bit heated having Randy under him, squirming like he did, with that irresistible smile and those irresistible dimples. Gale also noticed how smooth Randy's skin was, how soft, how delicate.

He chuckled and let up, letting Randy have some room.

"You're being a bully," Randy pointed out as the camera men entered with coffee and bagels. They re-explained the scene, the technical movements, and of course the angles.

Soon Gale found himself raising Randy's legs in the air, perching them gently on his shoulder. Gale watched as Randy's cock grew noticeably hard until it was almost swollen under his cock sock. Randy's pulsating hole between his succulent ass cheeks was red and puffy. Gale swallowed, his mouth dry; he was immediately turned on.

"Gale?" the camera man called. "Gale did you forget your lines? I have them here—Martha fetch me my script."

"I'm sorry," Randy whispered, looking genuinely concerned. "It's my cock right? Am I distracting you? Are you uncomfortable?"

Gale laughed nervously, setting Randy's legs down, running his fingers through his hair. "No, don't be dumb. I'm alright my memory has been shit all day…"

Martha came over helping Gale recall his lines.

It took five takes for Gale to get the movements, attitude, tone, words, and angles completely right. All he had to do was pretend he couldn't feel when Randy curled his toes, pretend he couldn't hear Randy's moans, and couldn't feel Randy's sweat sticking to him—which of course was courtesy of Ron who placed them temperature in the room to over eighty-five degrees so the sweat and heat would look natural.

"These scenes will get easier," Ron was telling Gale, handing him his shirt and pants. "Once you guys get in the rhythm it will be cake."

Now, Gale laid down on his trailer bed, door open, windows open, fan on. He smoked his joint greedily, nursing a box of apple juice he nicked from the staff fridge; he couldn't exactly tell which one was making him feel better.

He kept seeing Randy, and with his sight came a feeling of touch, a sensation through his body. He saw Randy's deep blue eyes; he felt a calming gaze. He saw Randy's soft, snowy ass; he felt the delicate skin under his hands. He saw Randy's full, puffy lips; he felt them on his, warm and steady…his tongue…

"Shit," Gale muttered. Leave it to him to fuck everything up. Why did people have feelings anyways? Feelings got him into shit with some assistant shit on set, which got him a stain on his favorite pants. Now feelings are going to get him into complicated shit with the one person he liked best on this fucking set.

This was either going to be the longest five years of his life or he was going to have to come up with a plan, and a fucking good one too. Why did he even listen to his manager? Yes, stating he was straight might have been a good political-career move (because in all honestly the business was rough as was) but didn't anyone ever consider what would happen emotionally if he strung up a guy again?

Gale remembered college, remembered the preppy gay frat he managed to out. Gale remembered his sophomore New Years, where he did it with his friend's brother in the closet (which was ironic because his friend's brother _was _in the closet). He also remembered pussy, however, and how the ratio of pussy to dick was roughly ten to one. Wasn't that 'straight' enough?

Gale could never explain it, not to friends, not to his family. He only felt attraction, not gender, when he liked a person. A girl can turn him off as quickly as a guy can, but they could also both equally turn him on—it's just that his guy-type was more specific, and he just happened to have met a lot more attractive women then men. 'Attractive' here was certainly not just looks, though that was part of it. Attraction is termed as gravity—as feeling a pull towards a person as a whole.

Gale began to feel Randy's pull. And it sucked shit.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

"I mean my mother's fucking insane—I would pay to have her locked up but God knows I can't afford that luxury," Michelle closed her fist around her crackers and let the crumbs fall onto her soup.

"Oh yeah, yeah," Scott took a swing of beer. "But that comes with the title, right? Under 'mother' it clearly states 'fucking insane'. It's all explained in the _My Family is Nuts Please Tell Me I'm Adopted_ handbook."

Randy snorted. "You guys are evil."

"Well not everybody adores his Mommy," Scott cooed.

"Or can even _tolerate _his Mommy," Michelle added.

"Except Hal!" Scott slammed a fist to the table. "He has her over every damn week! Jesus! She's always creeping around sets. 'Mom check this out-the fridge in this set is real!' or 'Ooh! Ooh! Mommy look at the naked dancing cowboy…'"

Randy laughed. "Okay I love my mother but never would I _ever _bring her on set."

"Why?" Scott raised his eyebrows, exchanging a glance with Michelle. "Afraid she'd catch you and Gale in the act?"

Randy gave him an indifferent look. "What act?"

"Honey," Michelle scoffed. "I mean we know you guys think because people can't _see _you that we can't _hear _you—"

"We're not all idiots you know," Scott said pleasantly. "Well…hey, I'm speaking for _most _of us. Like basically me."

Michelle rolled her eyes then turned to Randy, gripping his arm. "Do you know what you're doing? I mean…he's _straight._"

"Yeah, so?" Randy sipped his water. "We can fuck around if we want to. We're big boys."

"I know, I know. But honey…I mean I just hope you're not having any…_expectations._" She bit her lip. "I mean you could get really hurt. You both could."

Randy frowned. "What? Expectations because I'm queer and he's not? I'm not a little gay boy with a crush—I know he's not going to propose. We're best friends."

"With benefits?" Scott wagged his eyebrows.

"Oh shut up," Randy stared into his cheeseburger. "The 'benefits' part is all lust. It's nothing more. We're like best friends that have sex. These are modern times—don't people do that?"

"Darling," Scott touched his arm. "People _do _do that. All the time. It's a strange hip new thing…called a _boyfriend._"

Randy batted off his hand. "Whatever. We can handle ourselves."

"Mm hmm." Michelle popped an oyster cracker in her mouth. "Sure."

* * *

Thea and Gale ran through their lines again, with the occasional cry from 'Gus', their TV son. Thea passed him over to Gale as she went to get water. The little fucker gurgled and drooled all over his shoulder.

"Now you see," Gale was saying to Dan, "this is why I won't be having kids anytime soon."

"Alright take five, Gale," Dan sighed, taking the kid from him. "Go with Thea, take five."

Gale joined Thea at the main set refreshment table. Thea saw his shoulder and giggled, grabbing a handful of napkins and helping him brush off the extra drool.

"Well, be thankful he isn't our real kid," she said, amused. "Or we'd be needing a lot more napkins in our lives."

Gale blew air out of the side of his mouth in reply.

"I'm going to have lots of them," Thea continued. "Lots of little Gusses. That is…when I find that special person. Good god! Who knows how long that's going to take. But I can picture him: strong, tan, with a deep Spanish accent. Oh, and rich of course."

"Of course," Gale tossed the drooly napkins in the trash. "Why the accent?"

"I've always had an attraction to a good Spanish accent. I went abroad to Spain for a whole year in college. Ooh if you only knew. The sex—"

"Whoa," Gale held up his hands. "I surrender. No girl-talk for me."

Thea laughed. "What about you, mister? You can't stay sharp and single forever."

"I plan to retire with three blond wives and two cocker spaniels, both named Jack after this pet turtle of mine that died when I was in 1st grade—it was a tragic time," Gale grabbed a bagel from the table and smeared it with jelly. "We'll all live happily on the gulf of Florida, drunk and in debt."

"Charming," Thea snorted. She hesitated then looked at him mischievously. "How about one blond boy instead?"

Gale stopped chewing, throwing his bagel in the trash. He sucked the jelly off his thumb. "What?"

"Gale," Thea tittered. "Don't bullshit me. You don't think people know? The whole cast knows—it's been floating around. Surely you knew—"

"We're guys," Gale said quickly. "Guys love fucking. Guys could fuck a dog and feel pleasure. A fuck is a fuck. We're just playing around. So what?"

"Are you sure Randy knows this?"

"Sure I'm sure."

"Alright," Thea bit her lip. "Just…be careful, Gale."

"Careful is my middle name." Gale looked at Thea, who glared disapprovingly. "Okay, okay. I'll be careful."


End file.
