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“This. Is so. Lame.”
They’re at some weird-ass carnival that Marina’s weird-ass new girlfriend is working at, and Sinbad is far from happy about it. He wouldn’t want to be here even if it was for someone he was screwing, but unfortunately for him, Proteus is a much better friend than he is, and when Marina asked them to come he said yes for the both of them and proceeded to drag Sinbad kicking and screaming.
“Oh, come on, Sinbad,” Proteus says, unfairly cheery for someone at the world’s skeeviest carnival. “It’s not that bad.”
“Uh, yeah, it is,” Sinbad shoots back with an eyeroll. “Why do we have to be here? We don’t even like Eris.”
“I like Eris.”
“Shut up, no you don’t,” Sinbad says irritably. “And I don’t know why Marina does, either. It’s like, yeah, I get it, she’s sexy, but she’s so fucking creepy, is it really worth it?”
“I don’t know that I’m qualified to comment on that,” Proteus says mildly. “I’ll have to trust your heterosexual opinion.”
Heterosexual opinion. Right. Proteus still doesn’t…know. Although, to be fair, Sinbad doesn’t really… know, either. It’s complicated and confusing. All he knows for sure is that he is stupid in love with Proteus.
“Haha. Yeah,” he says pathetically.
Proteus gives him a soft, reassuring smile. “We don’t have to stay for long. I promise we’ll leave as soon as we can. But try to have some fun until then, all right?”
“Whatever,” Sinbad says with a long-suffering sigh. “Let’s find some food.”
They manage to find a stand selling funnel cakes that are both overpriced and overdone, but it’s enough to shut Sinbad up for a bit. He lets Proteus drag him to a few other booths, but doesn’t really pay attention. When Proteus pulls him over to a photo stand and positions his face in one of the cutouts, he ducks down at the last second and sticks his middle finger up instead.
When Proteus sees the picture he gives Sinbad a disappointed look. “You could at least pretend to be having a good time with me.”
And oof , that hits like a punch to the gut. It’s just, going to a carnival is the kind of thing people do on dates. People go on dates and share food all cute and gross and win each other prizes at the rigged games and kiss at the top of the ferris wheel.
But Sinbad is here with his best friend, who he’s in love with, and who is gay, but who thinks he’s straight and therefore for sure doesn’t feel the same way. So like, yeah, he’s not having a good time. This is torture.
“I am,” he says anyway. “I always have a good time with you.”
“Then act like it,” Proteus replies, a little snippishly. “You pick where we go next.”
Ugh. “Okay,” Sinbad agrees, because he loves this high-maintenance son of a bitch with every fiber of his being.
They start walking again. Sinbad chews thoughtfully on his funnel cake as he glances around, looking for something that A) Proteus will enjoy, but also B) won’t make Sinbad want to put his own head through a wall. Proteus might like getting their caricatures drawn or their faces painted, but Sinbad wouldn’t last two minutes before just up and leaving with half his face covered in glitter. Some of the games seem like fun, but he knows how pissed he’d get if he lost — not to mention how obnoxious he’d be if he won — and he doesn’t want Proteus to have to deal with that right now.
Basically, everything at this stupid place seems designed specifically to make sure Sinbad and Proteus can’t both have a good time. Figures. Sinbad’s about ready to give up hope and announce his defeat when he sees her.
He throws an arm in front of Proteus to stop him. Proteus runs into it and gives him an exasperated look, but Sinbad hardly even notices. “Dude,” he says, his voice low. “Is it just me, or does that fortune teller over there look exactly like Meryl Streep?”
Proteus follows Sinbad’s gaze, and he gasps. “That fortune teller looks exactly like Meryl Streep.”
“Oh my god, dude,” Sinbad says, getting excited now. “I think that is Meryl Streep.”
“There’s no way that’s Meryl Streep,” Proteus says, but he still hasn’t taken his eyes off of her. “Why on earth would she be telling fortunes at a carnival? Not to mention she’s filming in New Zealand right now.”
“Jesus, I really hate that you know that, but there’s only one way to find out. We gotta go over there.”
“What? No! That’s — I don’t want to bother her,” Proteus protests, clearly a little panicked at the prospect of actually meeting Meryl Streep in the flesh. “I don’t want you asking her whether or not she’s Meryl Streep.”
“Dude, it’s fine. She’s literally there for people to bother,” Sinbad says with a roll of his eyes. “That’s the point of being a carnie. And besides, I thought it was my turn to pick.”
Proteus gives him a look. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the worst person I’ve ever known.”
“Come on, this is perfect!” Sinbad grabs Proteus by the wrist and starts dragging him towards the fortune teller's booth. He really can't believe his luck that he actually managed to find something for the both of them, because if there’s one thing Sinbad loves it’s people telling him about himself, and if there’s one thing Proteus loves it’s Meryl Streep.
They make it over just as two other men are leaving the booth. The brunette seems promisingly spooked and is clinging tightly to the arm of the redhead, who looks simultaneously irritated and amused. Sinbad obviously has no intention of getting scared, but he wishes he could hold onto Proteus like that anyway.
The Meryl Streep resemblance is even more striking up close, so it's really not Sinbad's fault that the first words out of his mouth are, "Excuse me, are you Meryl Streep?"
Proteus gives Sinbad a dark look, but the fortune teller just smiles serenely at him. "Are you Meryl Streep?"
Sinbad glances at Proteus and whistles. “Shit. Fair enough.” Proteus rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching with a smile. Sinbad turns back to Meryl Streep. "How much for a fortune?"
“That depends on what you want.” Meryl Streep raises a painted eyebrow and indicates a sign to her left that clearly says UNCANNY PSYCHIC READINGS AND FORTUNE-TELLINGS. INDIVIDUAL $5. COUPLES $8. NO REFUNDS. “The couples reading is quite a bargain,” she adds with a toothy smile.
Sinbad forces a laugh. “Oh, well, we aren’t a couple, so.” He clears his throat. “Can I borrow five bucks?” he asks Proteus, who is already rolling his eyes again and getting out his wallet, because he's the world's best person.
Proteus hands Meryl Streep a five-dollar bill, and she tucks it away and gestures for Sinbad to take a seat across from her. He does so eagerly, shooting Proteus a grin that makes him sigh and smile fondly.
"Hands on the table, palms up," Meryl Streep instructs. "Take a deep breath and close your eyes."
Hesitantly, Sinbad obeys, and Meryl Streep makes a low humming noise and presses a fingertip into the center of each of Sinbad’s palms on the table. He knows it’s just showy bullshit, but it makes him twitch with discomfort, and he’s relieved when he feels Proteus step a little closer behind him until he’s grazing Sinbad’s side.
After a few seconds the pressure on Sinbad's palms disappears. "Open your eyes."
As soon as he does Proteus moves away again, which makes sense, but it still stings a little. Meryl Streep is leaning forward on her elbows, fingers templed as she studies Sinbad thoughtfully. He forces another awkward laugh.
"So? Am I gonna be a big star, or what?"
Meryl Streep smiles gently and shakes her head. "You don't want to be a star, boy. You want stability. You want peace and comfort."
Behind Sinbad, Proteus snorts. Sinbad shoots him a Shut up and let Meryl Streep tell me things about me glare over his shoulder, and Proteus smiles and shrugs an apology.
Meryl Streep continues, unfazed. "You, my boy..." She leans farther forward. "You are in love."
Sinbad's eyes go wide with shock. His mouth opens and closes a couple times before he finally manages an eloquent response. "Haha, what?"
"You have a great love within you," Meryl Streep says solemnly. Sinbad's heart is pounding. Proteus is silent behind him, so Sinbad's got no idea what his reaction to all this is. "But you fear rejection."
Sinbad swallows hard, his pulse racing. This is fake, he reminds himself forcefully. “I’ve never been rejected, ever, in my life,” he says with as much false bravado as he can muster. Behind him, Proteus makes a vaguely derisive noise, but Sinbad can’t shut up. “So even if I were in love — which, by the way, is probably what you guess for literally everyone who comes here, so, like, get some new material — uh, what was I saying?”
“You’ve never been rejected, so…” Meryl Streep reminds him helpfully.
“Right, so even if I were in love, it’s not like I’d have anything to be worried about. Look at me. I’m like a hotter, more dastardly Brad Pitt. I’m irresistible.”
Now Proteus sighs audibly, and Sinbad tries not to wince. Doing a great fucking job of being irresistible to the one person he actually wants , now, isn’t he? God. Everything in his life leading up to this precise moment has been a mistake.
As for Meryl Streep, she seems less than impressed. “I’m sure. Well, then, it seems you have no need for the rest of your fortune.”
“No, no, wait,” Sinbad says quickly. “Finish the fortune. I paid five dollars for it!”
“I paid five dollars for it,” Proteus mutters.
“Right. He paid five dollars for it!”
“Very well,” Meryl Streep says primly, folding her hands in front of her and leaning back in her seat. “The rest is: He feels the same way, child. Don’t let this one go.”
In a way, Sinbad’s sort of relieved, because there’s no way that’s true. That means the rest of it was just lucky guesses, too. So, that’s cool. Totally fine. Definitely not feeling any painful little jabs in his heart at the self-reminder that Proteus does not, in fact, feel the same way. “Sure he does,” Sinbad says patronizingly. “Okay, well, thanks for the fortune, Meryl Streep.”
“Don’t come back,” Meryl Streep replies with a smile, which is not very professional of her but Sinbad can’t particularly blame her. He’s well aware that he’s insufferable at best.
He gets up and turns back to Proteus, who’s got this mysterious troubled look on his face that Sinbad chooses to ignore because dealing with it sounds difficult and he was kind of just put on blast by a debatably psychic Meryl Streep lookalike so he really just doesn’t have the energy to deal with it right now. “Welp. Let’s go find Marina,” he suggests instead. Proteus nods, but doesn’t say anything, so Sinbad takes that as his cue to lead the way.
Unfortunately, he has no idea where Marina would even be, and his phone is dead because he never fucking remembers to charge it before he goes places, and he’d ask Proteus to call her if he didn’t still have that scary brooding look on his face, but he does and it’s growing darker by the minute. So, Sinbad just kind of leads them around aimlessly for a few minutes, internally replaying everything Meryl Streep said and reevaluating how for real she might have been, until they end up back in the area with performer tents and lodgings and shit where they definitely aren’t supposed to be.
“Okay, well, this seems probably incorrect,” Sinbad says, frowning. “But I guess while we’re here, let’s like, look around and see how carnies live, or something? Think they’ve got freaky shit in there? What am I even saying, of course there’s freaky shit in there.”
When Proteus still doesn’t say anything, Sinbad finally snaps. “Okay, what gives?”
Proteus’s eyebrows, until now heavily furrowed, shoot up like he’s genuinely surprised Sinbad noticed something was up. “Beg pardon?”
“I said, what gives? You’ve been all moody and silent and shit ever since we left Meryl Streep, and honestly? It’s creeping me out.”
Proteus heaves a sigh and folds his arms across his chest. “I just — that fortune teller was a — a charlatan.”
Sinbad raises an eyebrow. “Well, I mean, yeah. Of course she was. They all are. That’s the point.” No matter how spot on she may or may not have been about some certain parts of Sinbad’s fortune. “What, that’s seriously what’s got you all bothered?”
Proteus grimaces. “She can’t just — you can’t just say things and make assumptions about people. You can’t bullshit a fortune about someone being in love with a man when you have no reason to think they even like men.”
That throws Sinbad off. “Wait, what? When did she say anything about me liking men?”
Proteus clenches his jaw and looks away. “She said — she said he feels the same way. Not she, or they. He.”
“Oh. Shit.” Sinbad was so distracted by Meryl Streep blowing up his spot vis-à-vis being in love that he didn’t even notice her literally outing him, and at this point it seems kind of a moot point. “Well, okay. To be fair, I do like men, so.”
Sinbad has never seen Proteus look so thoroughly fucking shocked in the nearly twenty years they’ve known each other. “What?” Proteus says in almost a whisper. “Since when?”
Sinbad shrugs. “Dunno. And really, men is a strong word. Kind of just… man.” He can feel his face starting to heat up, which fucking sucks because when was the last time Sinbad motherfucking blushed? He was probably, like, twelve. Despite this, he takes a step closer to Proteus, then another.
Proteus doesn’t appear to notice, still looking shellshocked. “So… So the fortune teller was right.”
Sinbad glaces away and gives another little shrug. “Sort of. About some of it, at least. I mean, she was right about the peace and stability shit. Don’t laugh,” he adds quickly, self-conscious, but Proteus looks a million miles away from being amused by any of this anyway.
“And most of the other stuff, too,” Sinbad continues. His hands are tight fists of anxiety at his sides, but he tries to keep his expression calm and his voice steady as he takes another couple of steps towards Proteus. "About me...being in love. With a guy. And fearing rejection or whatever, although that one I do think was just a lucky guess, because, like, who isn't, you know?"
In for a penny, in for a dollar, or whatever the saying is. Sinbad unclenches one first and lifts a hand to touch Proteus’s arm, light and unsure. Proteus startles slightly, finally noticing how close Sinbad’s gotten, but he doesn’t flinch away, so that’s something. His eyes drop to Sinbad's mouth, then snap back up to his eyes. “Sinbad,” he says, low and hesitant.
Sinbad forges onward. “Point is, Meryl Streep was right about everything. Or at least, almost everything.” He glances away before quickly setting his jaw and forcing himself to make eye contact again. “I don't — I don't know if she was right about the last part. About him...feeling the same way.”
Proteus doesn’t say anything. His eyes are still locked on Sinbad's, brow furrowed like he's not entirely sure what Sinbad’s saying, or like he might have some idea but he’s trying to figure out whether or not Sinbad's screwing with him.
Sinbad drops his hand and chews nervously on his lip. "Come on, man, say something."
It takes Proteus a few more long seconds to react. Finally, he unfolds his arms and drops them to his sides, but he's still stiff. "Sinbad," he says, his voice very, very quiet. "That woman was not Meryl Streep."
"That's your takeaway?" Sinbad groans and rubs his face with his hand. "Look, I'm just saying, we have no way of knowing for sure whether or not she was, okay? Now can you maybe say, like, something else?"
Proteus looks almost scared. His hand bumps into Sinbad's but he doesn't move it away. "I don't know what you want me to say," he says, almost a whisper. "I don't I'm not sure what you're saying, Sinbad, I don't want to misinterpret "
"Oh my god. For someone so smart you can be so fucking stupid sometimes, Proteus.“ Sinbad reaches up to take Proteus's face in his hands and moves in even closer, too frustrated by this point to waste any more time trying to be coy. Proteus's eyes go wide, his mouth still half open.
"I'm in love with you," Sinbad tells him bluntly, stroking his thumbs across Proteus's flawless cheekbones like he's been wanting to do for years. They're so close their noses are almost touching. "And I want you to tell me if Meryl Streep was right and you feel the same way."
Proteus closes his eyes and exhales sharply, and when he opens his eyes again there’s something in them that warms Sinbad through to his core.
"That wasn't Meryl Streep, you obstinate fool," Proteus says, right before he leans in and presses his lips to Sinbad's.
The kiss is sweet and gentle and completely perfect. It only lasts for a second before Proteus pulls back and gives Sinbad a small smile.
"Does that answer your question?"
Sinbad holds back a grin of his own and purses his lips. "Possibly. I'm not sure I heard you right, though. Maybe you should...you know. Tell me again?"
Proteus’s smile widens again, and then he tells Sinbad again. And again, and again, and again.