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“Broadway here I come,” James' voice resounded through the long since emptied theatre, singing his little heart out to thousands of lone seats from the middle of the stage. A performer had to practise, and singing in your flat's bathroom was far, far different from being here. From practising on a stage, staring out across the auditorium and imagining what it would be like to pack it out; to sing to a full house, people eagerly leaning forwards in seats and watching in awe.
But that was a time yet to come, and for now he had nothing but his fantasies and a friend who let him rehearse during the morning, long before the actors and their usual audience was awake to hear. And it was a crying shame, nobody there to see the pure emotion in his face, to hear the want in his voice.
Because God did he want it.
“The pressure, it increases, the closer that I get.” A single hand rose up high, swishing down in time with the gentle stomp of his foot, going through the routine without even sparing it a thought. Easy actions and footwork, an easy song, but none the less a god warm up – as well as a song he could truly relate to. A song all but written for him, one to reflect and strive for. One day James was sure he could look back and laugh, finding humour in how he sang of Broadway wishes.
Such simple choreography that James all but forgot what he was doing, missing an imaginary beat when he screwed up the timing of the next line. A curse left his lips as he stumbled over the routine for a moment, eyes that had been glassed over only moments before flicking down to his feet, betrayed by such a simple step and stomp routine.
He caught it easily, falling back into the rhythm and taking a deep breath to carry on singing. It was just a stumble, there was no need to let it effect him. It was just a stumble.
“I could almost go to pieces,” James' mouth snapped shut once more, feet stopping instantly as he whipped around. Because that had so not been him. For a moment he scanned around aimlessly, trying to locate where the voice echoing across the stage had come from while his heart kept leaping out of his throat, panicked by the sudden realisation someone was around. Someone had seen him fuck up something so easy.
Eventually his eyes fell on a figure in the dark, a smart man with a neat navy suit watching through glass with a rather entertained grin. James couldn't say he'd seen the man before, but judging by the suit he'd hazard a guess and say he worked here. Either that, or he was just really, really eager.
“You scared the daylights out of me!” James didn't hold back the comment, but it was paired with a friendly smile, long legs carrying him across the stage and towards the stranger as he outstretched a hand. Might as well try to redeem himself, right?
The stranger rolled with it, accepting the hand and shaking firmly for a moment, eyes roaming over James with a controlled expression, somewhere between inexpressive and straight up board.
“I hardly meant to, I just thought you might need the encouragement.” And ouch, that hurt just a little. This guy seriously thought James' talent didn't even cover something like steps and finger snaps.
“Hardly, I promise I can do far better – I wasn't paying attention. A wandering mind, so to speak.” He tapped his temple and paired the comment with a somewhat awkward laugh, all too aware of the first impression he'd given. A bad one. And it was a true explanation, his mind had been hundreds of miles away, head too full of dreams and thoughts racing around to focus on a reflex reaction.
For a moment they two just stood in silence, James wondering what the stranger was thinking, and the man just looking at him as if trying to work out if such a claim was true or not. After a few seconds he seemed to come to a decision, expression barely changing as he gestured to the stage behind James with one hand.
“Go on then. Prove it.”
James knew a challenge when he heard one. The half-smile on his face, rooted in awkwardness and a little embarrassment, turned to a flat out grin as he stepped back. He shrugged off his green blazer as he went, tossing it towards the man, letting it land near his feet. A bit of – not showing off really, more like an acceptance and a promise he was going to do better.
They might've met a minute or so ago, exchanged even fewer words, but James would be damned if he didn't rise to the challenge and take the opportunity to show off a little. Or more, to show off a lot to this cute stranger. What could he say? He was a performer at heart, after all.
James span slowly on his heel in the middle of the stage, making sure he was facing the man with open arms. The cute guy just crossed his arms and lifted his chin slightly, waiting to see if James could rise to the challenge at all, or if he was some stumbling wannabe.
And damn did Percival assume that's what James was. Sure, his voice had been nice, but he'd stumbled over the easiest steps and barely recovered, and singing something as simple as Broadway here I come was nothing in the grand scheme of things. It was a kid who couldn't keep ups song. A dreamers song. He wanted to see more than a dreamer – he wanted to see if this guy was a doer.
“I've got a sweet tooth, for licorice drops and jelly rolls.” James started to sing out of nowhere, swinging his arm aroud and strutting in the man's direction, arms swinging and hips sashaying from side to side with a newfound confidence, arm stretching out towards him, fingers curling in as he brought it back to his own chest with a snap.
“Hey sugar daddy, Hansel needs some sugar in his bowl.” A jerk of his hips in the others direction was enough to get a half-smile back on his face, clearly entertained by James' ridikulous song choice and antics in front of him. And he couldn't be blamed for finding it funny, not when James had moved on to pretend to rub a micrphone cable between his legs, still following the old blocking to a T with every action. Even without the song playing, you could see he was meeting every beat perfectly, actions conveying everything the music and outfits were designed to do.
Percival had to give it to him, this kid was actually pretty damn good.
He let James have his time for a few more lines, the smirk only growing as the other pranced around, looking so stupid yet so professional in the very same moment.
“Alright, aright, I take it back, you're not half bad.” He cut James off with a raised hand, signalling him to just stop singing already. The act dropped in an instant, hands falling back to his side and posture fixing to that near perfect pose once more. He still kept the mischievous grin however, convinced he'd at least made a better impression. Perhaps a crazy, overtly sexual impression, but a great one none the less. Besides, what was theatre without a little...sexual energy?
Pretty damn pointless, as far as James was concerned, that's what it was.
“Not half bad? Isn't that the polite way of saying vaguely bearable?” James was more teasing now as he walked back to the other, picking the blazer up off the floor and giving it a shake down out of habit, sliding the fabric back on over his shirt and tugging it straight.
“I suppose it usually is, but it's hard to form a full impression when someone decides their best is 'Hedwig and the angry inch', don't you think?”
Okay, maybe he had a point. Sugar baby with gender issues and a shitty wig wasn't exactly the best impression to leave. Unless you were James of course, in which case it was probably the best representation of him he could think of. That or Doctor Frank N Furter.
“Perhaps, but things like Les Miserables are so over-rated, don't you think?” James glanced at his watch and had to resist the urge to do a double take – how the hell it was that late already, he didn't know, but he had a dog to attend to. As much as he'd like to talk to the handsome stranger all night and keep singing, he knew dear little Estella took presidents. That poodle all but ran his life – mainly because James lacked the ability to say no mind. Treats and walks and regular baths, she got far too much pampering, and even he knew that.
“All that being said, I really need to make a move I'm afraid – as nice as this odd meeting has been.”
Percival raised an eyebrow at that, not sure if James was trying to get out already or really had other commitments. It was a shame, he'd been enjoying the others company. Instead of responding properly he just nodded, stepping to the side so James could walk off stage and make his way out.
“You know, I don't think I ever caught your name.” Percival hated to admit it, but the guy was good, and he hated to think of him wasting his time singing to empty theatres. He'd seen less talented people make their way onto professional shows, and while he couldn't guarantee the other would be any good in a real show, he'd like to give the name to someone during the next casting call.
James paused a few steps past Percival, turning to look back at the other. His hands were shoved in his pockets, posture still perfect and smile in place as he spoke.
“James Spencer – I'm part of the front of house lot. What about you? I never actually questioned the hot guy walking out of the shadows, which, really, I think I should've.” he laughed, well aware that he should've aired on the side of caution earlier, not just rolling with the man so calmly. But that was just what he was like, always the over friendly, enthusiastic guy who brought everyone coffee and helped them practise.
Percival shrugged when he was asked his name, hand going to his breast pocket for a moment and pulling out a pristine business card, holding it out to James. Curiosity got the better of him, and he was reaching out to take it before he even considered the action, glancing at the name and -
Oh shit.“Percival MacIntosh? As in THE Broadway critic? Fuck me.” The last part of the sentence was breathlessly, genuinely shocked. How the hell he managed to run into Broadway critic royalty in a theatre at 1am was beyond him, but James could hardly say he was surprised. Another half smile spread across Percival's lips, giving James enough respect to not respond to the last part of his sentence. Well damn was it tempting.“Yes, that Percival. I was interviewing T – Kinky Boots' new Lola? - she told me to leave this way.” He gestured towards the back of the auditorium hall, well aware by this point she'd been trying to point him in the direction of James. Smart girl, he had to give her that.James just nodded somewhat dumbly, still staring at the card with a little shock. This was the guy who made (and ruined) careers on Broadway, and meeting him in the flesh was something he'd never really expected.
“I'll keep an eye out for you James, you've got some real talent. Don't waste it backstage.” With that he was long gone, leaving James alone in the dimly lit hall, still clutching at the card.
“Well, anyway, I suppose I'd best be off as well.” Percival's awkwardness was beginning to show as James just kept staring, walking past the man to mention this 'coincidence' to T before he left. He stopped at James' side for a moment, slender hand squeezing the man's shoulder.
“I'll keep an eye out for you James, you've got some real talent. Don't waste it backstage.” With that he was long gone, leaving James alone in the dimly lit hall, still clutching at the card.