Work Text:
“Papii,” Gun says, conversational.
Looking back on this conversation, it’s the utter calm and normalcy of Gun’s approach that sticks with Off. Gun is tying his shoelaces, in baggy jeans and a Celine hoodie—he’s been favouring that brand recently—with his hair still styled from the event they’d been at. They’re changing and getting ready to go their separate ways, something they do all the time. Could be any day. Except today, Gun has a question for Off. “Can I ask you a favour?”
“Sure,” Off says, having learned nothing from knowing Gun for seven years. Gun’s favours range from the small—can you put this necklace on me, the catch is fiddly—to, well, this.
“Can you teach me how to kiss in a straight way?”
Off, in the middle of feeding the tongue of his zipper into the base, stutters. He jabs the metal zipper teeth into his finger, hard.
“Come again?”
Gun pouts. Off knows he’s sensitive about how he messes up his words sometimes. Gun opens his mouth to say it again.
“No, I heard you,” Off says, cutting him off. He does what he always does when he gets an irritating question and needs a moment to compose himself: he rotates one heel on the ground. “Why would… can’t you… what do you need exactly?”
Gun’s pout smooths out. “I need some tips or maybe some demonstrations.” Demonstrations.
“Why?”
“I think there’s going to be kissing in the 3 Gentlebros and I really need to sell it.”
“You’re a good actor,” Off says, and Gun goes a little starry the way he always does when he gets praised. “You know how to sell a kiss,” he says, and can’t help the way his voice gets low. Filming Not Me had been… a lot.
“Thanks,” Gun says, “but this is going to be with a girl and it could mean a lot for my career and I want to get it right.” He bites his lip. It goes white around his teeth and then flushes when he releases. “It has to look like I want it.”
Off waves his hands, making some sort of vague hand gesture. “Can’t you just… kiss her and pretend it’s someone you’re hooking up with?” That’s a danger topic, Off never asks about Gun’s love life. He knows he has one, but it’s better for everyone if they just leave it to the side at work.
Gun gives him a little smile, like silly Papii, “It’s acting; I never kiss onscreen like I do for real.”
The words hit Off hard in the mid-section. Never. Never like he does onscreen. Is that because of the angles? The awareness of the camera? Or is it about the way he kisses? How does Gun kiss in real life? Off starts to imagine it and then slams a steel wall down in his mind. Don’t think about that.
But never. That means all of their kisses have been acting. Which Off knows. Of course he knows that. But. That means there are things Gun does that Off doesn’t know about. The steel wall lifts up a bit. Is it the noises? Or. Gun likes to have his hair played with, maybe he’s more handsy. That makes sense. Stop thinking about this. It’s so hard though.
Off swallows. “Oh?”
Gun nods. “So will you help me?”
It’s like a ghost takes control of Off’s throat. He hears himself say “Sure,” as if from a great distance.
***
Fuck his life.
They have a balance, he and Gun. A hard-won balance that took a lot of negotiation. A lot of Off being uncool, and then trying too hard to be cool, and finally actually being cool. Or so he thought. Because Off is feeling extremely 2018 about all of this.
Look. It went like this: Off got paired with Gun and they had to play gay. Well Off had to play gay, Gun just… was. And Off couldn’t get his head around it. He was sort of new to the acting thing in general but also it just seemed so different. Being gay! What was it like? Like looking at a man and thinking, yeah, I want those hands on me, doing… stuff. “But it’s uncomfortable, right?” Off asked Gun as Gun sort of ducked around wardrobe. “I mean, the body isn’t built to work like that, things going up where they should only come out, so.”
“Mm,” Gun said, and handed his shirt to the wardrobe auntie to hang up.
Off huffed. Gun wasn’t being very helpful here, even though he presumably knew the actual information. Off kept asking questions, though. At least he did until they filmed on Team Girl and Jennie heard him.
Gun went to use the bathroom and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Knock it off.”
Off, who was reaching for water, startled and almost knocked it over. “What do you mean?” They’d known each other for a while and if he was doing something that wasn’t great, he’d trust her to tell him.
She pointed at him. “Your gay comments.”
“What do you—you mean like when I pointed out how deep Gun can swallow?” She nodded. “That was a compliment.” And it was, it was genuinely impressive. Off couldn’t help but watch it; Off would have choked for sure, if he tried. “And it was funny.”
“Was it.” Her lips were pressed together.
Off had emcee instincts. He kept the energy up and the jokes flowing; he paid attention and commented on what he saw. But under her eyes his instinct to make people laugh took on a different tint. It took on a darker hue.
Gun was coming back, so he didn’t have a lot of time to explain. He wanted to say that what she was thinking… that wasn’t true. He wasn’t trying to make Gun the joke. He couldn’t explain it but there was something that he was circling and trying to illuminate and until he could it would just keep itching at him and that itch feeling was where the best comedy came from. But he didn’t have time, so he said, “Ok. I’ll stop.”
And he did.
He stopped making jokes and he stopped trying to get Gun to explain gay stuff to him. Off put it out of his mind and focused on their working relationship. Eventually it stopped feeling weird and started feeling normal and comfortable. Companionable. He couldn’t imagine being paired with anyone else on the interminable number of appearances, more than anyone else because Gun always pushed them to do as many as they could. Money poured like water out of Gun’s hands, but he was aggressive about going out there and getting it. He never asked Gun anything about his sex life. And Gun never volunteered anything. As far as Off was concerned, Gun never dated.
So it’s really doing a number on him to think about Gun kissing other people. Gun kissing people not like how he kisses Off.
He wants to know who, like he’s never allowed himself to wonder, but that want pales in comparison to wanting to know how. It would be weird to ask to watch, right? That probably falls under the umbrella of things Jennie told him to knock off.
***
Off puts it out of his mind. They’re doing an event for ice cream and Off feeds Gun a couple of spoonfuls. He’s careful not to let it dribble. He also makes it his personal mission to make Gun laugh at least three times. He’s in his element at these things. He’s funny and he knows it. It’s comfortable for him. It makes him feel like he’s on solid ground when he’s making someone laugh—immediate feedback that he’s doing a good job. If someone is laughing then they’re having a good time and if he made them laugh then he made them have a good time.
Being able to thrill an audience is his bread and butter. He’s done interviews and things where the audience has been quieter, listening, and that’s always more nerve-wracking. There’s no way to know if they’re bored or if he’s said something wrong. This kind of fun casual thing is a lot easier.
And it settles something too, something inside of him that had been feeling a little disoriented. Working with Gun, knowing how to read his reactions and knowing exactly what to do to get him to laugh… well. It’s hard for Off to get jealous of random someones when he gets to see Gun every day, when Gun checks in with him about their schedules to make sure they’re available for each other. Their worlds revolve around each other. Off is Gun’s first call when something goes wrong, and the first one to congratulate him when something goes right. They’re partners and Off knows him. He knows him better than anyone else.
Even if he doesn’t know this one thing.
Okay. Maybe he is still bothered.
“Are you going out with your friends after?”
Gun looks up from his phone. He tilts his head, not quite suspicious, but it’s a sharp curiosity. “Why?”
“Can I join?” Off tries to slouch a bit, aiming for nonchalant.
He watches Gun chew it over. Off doesn’t usually come out, unless it’s his birthday. He doesn’t see the point of bars and clubs when he can mix his own drinks and he has a karaoke machine at home.
There’s a moment where Off thinks Gun might say no, and it’s almost a relief. What’s Off hoping to accomplish? But Gun clearly can’t think of a reason to deny him, so he puts a smile on, one of the tight-mouthed ones that force the dimples, and says, “Sure.”
***
At the bar, Off really isn’t sure why he wanted to come. It’s loud, it’s crowded, the lights are pulsing, and he’s mixing his drinks weak because he has work tomorrow so he can’t even distract himself with a solid buzz. Gun’s friends show up in dribs and drabs, all of them rushing over and then pausing when they see Off. Their eyes immediately go to Gun, who shrugs, one shouldered. They move around Off carefully, giving him space like there’s an invisible perimeter around him. Frankly, Off prefers that to the way everyone else is all over each other.
It gives him a good vantage point to watch. So he does.
He sips his watery drink and watches the people who approach Gun. He knows most of them, all the usual suspects from years of Gun’s stories and social media posts. He doesn’t know any of them well, but they’ve met. They’re cordial. This night feels like any other night, it could be 2019, or last month, or yesterday. There’s a banality to club nights. What did Off think was going to happen? Why did he want to be here?
A guy breaks off from the group on the far side of the table and starts to make his way around towards Gun. He’s smiling. Off thinks he knows him. He’s called Oat, he thinks. Or Khaw? Something. Gun sees him coming and gives a small shake of his head. The guy’s step falters and he turns back.
He was coming to flirt. The conclusion appears fully formed in his mind, present and solid. Off can’t know that, though. There’s lots of reasons that Gun might not want one of his friends to approach him. But the idea grabs Off and won’t let go. Off has seen people hit on Gun—which Off has always thought was really brazen, doing it right in front of him. Regardless of them not dating, there’s a public image thing. And Gun has always turned them down. At least where Off could see. That’s why Off is thinking about it. Because right before he shook his head, Gun’s eyes cut to Off, lightning quick. He’s seen Gun do that before, every time someone approached him.
It puts a bad taste in his mouth.
Gun is hiding this from him.
Off leans so he can talk into Gun’s ear. Gun leans back, tilting his head to make it easy, and also so anyone looking couldn’t get a clear angle on both of their mouths at the same time. A practiced move, ingrained. “You can party like you want,” he says. “You don’t have to look out for me or anything.” Act natural, Off means. Don’t keep this part of your life from me.
Gun nods and smiles and Off can see him not getting it. And Off has another realisation, so quick on the heels of the first: Gun isn’t going to let him in. There’s nothing Off can tonight say to make him do it. Off hasn’t been a person Gun can share his… love life with. There’s no single sentence that changes that. Off knows firsthand that changing anything between them takes time.
And Off wants to change this.
He puts his drink on the table, not bothering to finish it. “I’m going to head out.”
“Oh?” Gun says, but Off knows that face. Underneath the placid expression, he’s relieved.
“Enjoy your night,” Off says, and means it. Gun needs the relaxation. He puts a farewell hand on Gun’s shoulder. Gun’s only wearing a thin t-shirt and Off can feel the heat of his skin under it, warmer than normal from the crush of the bar.
“Night, Papii,” Gun says, and this smile is more genuine. Off smiles back.
Then he goes.
***
He drives home. He does his best thinking while driving, Tay told him it’s because the change in physical location forces new parts of the brain to activate, but Off thinks it’s because he can’t check his phone. Even with the comforting rumble of the car around him, he can’t figure this out.
He drums his thumbs on the steering wheel.
Off can’t ask. He’s been told that specifically. Did you have a date recently? How’d that go? How often do you do that and what do you usually—yeah, no. Even he can see that’s not the right way. There’s probably a way to sound more like an intrusive bastard but it’s hard to think of one. And if Gun asked him the obvious question in return—why are you asking?—Off doesn’t have a good answer. It’s just an itch in his brain knowing that there’s this whole way Gun has of being in the world that Off hasn’t seen. Off knows more about Gun than anyone, and he doesn’t know about this.
Then he remembers he does have an entree to this world.
He pulls up their shared calendar, where they carefully put in all of their events so each of them knows where the other one is. Gun will still usually call him and tell him how it was, but this helps so they don’t get overscheduled.
Next Thursday, he types. My place?
Sure, Gun writes back, immediate. Must be a boring night. Off can judge how much fun Gun is having by whether he only posts to Instagram the day after, or at the time. Replying to texts means it’s even less engaging than an average evening, nothing to distract him from his phone. What’s up?
There’s an ember in Off’s heart at the idea that Gun would agree before asking questions.
You asked for my help with something before
The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again. Off chews his lip. Maybe Gun forgot? Or changed his mind?
Finally Gun sends a message.
It’s a teddy bear with a thumbs up sticker.
Well then.
***
What does it mean to kiss in a ‘straight way’? Off asks himself. He probably should have asked himself this before he agreed to do it and then gave himself a deadline, but he didn’t, so here he is. Off knows how he likes to kiss and he knows the girls he’s kissed have liked different things. So there’s not one way, per se. Doesn’t help that Off generally likes women who are confident in themselves so there’s not a ton of the ‘oh no I couldn’t possibly kiss what would people say about me’ dance that he knows some of his friends go through. Like, kiss or don’t. Off isn’t going to spread it around because he’s a celebrity and he literally can’t.
But Off supposes, thinking it through, that this isn’t a real life question anyway. This is about selling it for film.
He needs to do research.
He gets on the apps.
Netflix, Viu, AISPlay on demand, he’s even got Disney+ that he’s sharing with his family.
It’s a blurry evening and at the end of it Off feels like he has grit in his eyes but he thinks he has an idea of what’s going on. But just to be sure, he pulls up their series and takes a look. Off cringes immediately, struggling with looking at his performance, but he pushes through. He can only manage it because he’s half out of it with exhaustion. Gun is way better at this than him. Gun has this way of watching his own performance where he detaches totally; he sees the character and he sees the mechanics of blocking and how he moves his face. It’s weird because when they’re performing he’s so into it, fully slipping into character and becoming someone else. But then right after he pops out and is like hm, should I have leaned a little to the left there to emphasise the vulnerability of the position—or whatever. Off can’t get that type of perspective, he always sees himself and ends up thinking things like ‘Do I always do that with my lips?’ or ‘Emotions are silly.’
He looks, and he wonders. What is Gun doing that he wouldn’t normally do?
The kisses felt totally fine to Off at the time. Gun’s lips are soft and they’re very pliant when they kiss. Gun always tilts his head back enough to make it easy for Off to access them. And in this kiss, on the rooftop, they filmed it over several days and each time it was just as easy to match up. Off got to touch his face too, which was unusual. Usually the director’s didn’t let them, but Nuchy had told him to do it if he felt it was right for the character. Gun relaxed into it, let Off shift and angle his head with no resistance. Off thought it was a good kiss, one of their better ones.
But now he can only critique it.
He rubs his eyes again. The answers aren’t here in the clips, they’re out there, written on Gun’s body.
***
Gun comes over. He’s looking casual, wearing glasses, and he doesn’t have any product in his hair so it has the tiniest wave on some of the ends, not a curl but just enough variation that it isn’t all lying in the same direction.
“Hi, Papii,” he says, kicking off his shoes. He drops his bag on the chair by the door and goes straight into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Then he comes and sits down on the couch, tucking his feet up underneath him and wiggling a little to settle in.
“Hi,” Off says back.
Gun smiles at him and takes a sip of water. He puts the cup down on the table. Belatedly, Off realises he’s still standing, so he sits down on the couch too. His weight squishes the cushion a bit and Gun slides towards him before he can brace himself. They chat a bit about this and that, catching each other up on their day. Gun likes this, he calls every day and tells Off what he did and what’s upcoming, and Off makes a note of it so he can make sure their schedules work.
Eventually Gun lifts his chin and looks at Off expectantly. “So,” he says, “you have some tips for me?”
Off swallows. “Right.”
Everything flies out of his brain. He stalls for time. “Maybe you could show me what you were thinking.”
Gun nods like that makes sense. Then he rises up a bit on his knees and turns fully towards Off. His head is between the light and Off’s face, backlighting Gun. There’s still enough light for Off to see the look on his face. It’s intent. The soft curves of his cheeks seem harder somehow, and he looks at Off with something that isn’t quite but is almost a smirk. Then Gun puts a hand on the back of the couch over Off’s shoulder. Off’s heart goes quicker. He feels pinned even though Gun isn’t touching him.
When Gun leans down, Off can’t look away from his eyes. Gun presses his lips against Off’s, it’s hard. The plushness of Gun’s mouth only underlines the force Gun is using. Off’s head tips back from the pressure and Gun follows it, keeping them pressed together until it almost feels like Gun is on top of him.
Then Gun pulls back.
Off gasps. It feels like all of the air had been pulled from his lungs when Gun drew away.
“What do you think?” Gun asks.
Off’s throat works. It feels dry. He lunges for the water on the table and takes a few gulps, trying to loosen himself up enough to speak.
“How did you come up with that?” It definitely felt different than the other kisses he and Gun had shared.
“I watched some straight couples at clubs, and around,” Gun says.
Must have been some extreme place for people to be that affectionate out there in the open.
“It was pretty aggressive,” Off says. He thinks he’s starting to get what Gun meant about the difference between real life and TV kisses. When Off has kissed for the cameras, he’s thought of it as being rooted in the character and the script. But it’s not just the character. Because Off has had characters who have kissed from a place of deep emotion, but his onscreen straight kisses have been pretty passionless. He noticed this when he was doing his film review too. Way more than the kisses between men, the straight kisses are short, and close-mouthed. Probably best summed up as repressed. What Gun just did to him wasn’t repressed at all. “Not very TV-friendly.” Gun nods, thoughtful. “Was that closer to what you’d do normally? Like when you actually want to kiss?” Off tries to ask very nonchalantly, like the answer doesn’t matter, but his fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt.
Gun shakes his head and rolls back into his usual position. Off knows he wasn’t feeling any warmth off of Gun but he still feels colder with him further away.
“Nah,” Gun says.
So Off is no closer to solving this mystery.
“So how do you—” Off starts
“What do you think I should—” Gun says. They both stop talking. Off gestures for Gun to continue. “What is the better way to kiss?”
“I think,” Off says, feeling his way around the answer based on his experience and what he’s seen. “You need to look like you want to but toned way down. You have to act like you’ve never heard of sex but you still want to kiss more than anything else.”
“Hm,” Gun says. He taps a finger against his lip. “Ok. Can I try…?”
Off waves his acquiescence. Gun gets into that same position, leaning over Off, but his face is softer. Instead of pressing Off down, Gun leans in and applies pressure slowly. The kiss this time is butterfly soft. Gun shifts slightly to align their faces better. Off’s eyes flutter closed. Just as he’s getting used to it, Gun pulls back just as slowly as he leaned in. Off exhales slowly. It’s too early for Off’s lips to start to feel sensitive, but Off swears he can feel the imprint of Gun’s lips anyway. It was a sweet kiss.
It’s better but it’s not right. This is the type of kiss Rome could have given Pick.
Off shakes his head. “Too passive.” Gun was right about the aggression. At most the girls can look wide-eyed when they get kissed, maybe the slightest lean in. The impetus will have to come from Gun.
Gun squares up again. He tries three more kisses but they all feel off somehow. Either too much like the first one, which felt like Gun was going to devour whatever was in his path and didn’t care much who it was, or too hesitant, like he’s waiting for someone else to take it over.
He makes a frustrated noise. Off puts a hand on his back and Gun settles down a bit.
“You’ll get this,” Off says. “You figured out how to do this before.”
“Yeah,” Gun says, “but I have to get this right. I have to.”
“Take a little pressure off,” Off says. He claps his hands together softly, clearing the air. “What if we,” and does he dare to suggest this? Apparently. “just forget about all of the baggage for a second. Do a reset. You could”—he swallows— “kiss like you normally would, if it was someone you wanted to be kissing.” He rushes to explain himself. “Get resettled in your body, in what feels natural, and then try to find the aspects of that to show.”
Gun nods like that makes sense. He’s big on acting exercises; this probably isn’t even close to the weirdest thing he’s done.
Off sits back and waits. And waits. Gun doesn’t do anything. “What’s wrong?” The other kisses had come quickly. Not with this delay.
Gun wrinkles his forehead. “The vibe is wrong.”
“Um,” Off says. “What should… how do we get a vibe?”
“Hm,” Gun pulls out his phone. He taps at it and a couple of seconds later some upbeat pop music starts playing out of Off’s speakers. Gun must already be paired to his system. Gun gets up and refills the water glass, grabs a second one for Off. He hands it to Off and their fingers touch. Gun settles back on the couch. “Tell me about what series you’re watching.”
Sometimes watching a Thai drama can feel like doing competitor analysis, so Off’s been taking a break by watching House of the Dragon, which is ridiculously over the top but the dramatics have been relaxing. He tells Gun about it and Gun looks progressively more horrified with every plot development. “That’s so gross,” Gun says and Off can only agree.
There aren’t that many episodes out so Off switches to telling Gun about The Devil Judge, which is equally over the top, but in a more reasonable and more sense making way.
Before long Gun looks relaxed and Off realises he’s smiling too. That’s when Gun leans over and kisses Off. Off seizes up, hands flexing. Gun pulls back a bit, looking at Off, before darting in to press a couple of soft kisses to Off’s lips, one, two, and on the third one Off’s brain kicks into gear and he kisses back. Gun immediately deepens the kiss, tangling his fingers in Off’s hair to help support his neck. It’s Off who licks into Gun’s mouth but Gun opens immediately, pulling him in. Then it’s Gun who sucks on Off’s lower lip.
Now that they’re doing it, Off thinks that there is no other way Gun could kiss.
Off is still smiling. He’s been smiling the whole time. And it’s not because he’s laughing at Gun’s little noises. It’s because kissing Gun is fun. Gun makes it fun. He nips when Off isn’t expecting it and nuzzles their noses together. Every time the tension ratchets up Gun does something that mellows it out.
Gun is so present with Off, reacting to what he does, paying attention to what gets a response. But he isn’t waiting for it, he gives as much as he’s receiving. He’s like this as a scene partner. He’s fully in the scene, embodying the character, but in a way that invites his fellow actor in. He gives Off a lot to work with when they act together, and that’s true here on Off’s couch. Gun hums happily when Off brushes a thumb on the soft skin beneath his ear. He shifts when Off nips his upper lip, mirroring what Gun did.
They move around a little and it’s almost like gravity the way Gun ends up in Off’s lap. They’re kissing more now, open-mouthed, hands roaming over each other’s backs and shoulders. Off strokes Gun’s shoulder blades and Gun shivers. Gun is hot and wherever they touch Off feels warm. Not hot like a fire but warm like the beach at sunset, like a warm drink when he’s vacationing far from home. Gun’s hands keep seeking out Off’s hair, running through it and pulling lightly. It makes Off’s scalp spark.
Gun tugs harder and Off makes a small noise. Off can feel Gun’s smile against his, two crescent moons matching up.
Gun grinds down on Off’s lap. Off feels pressure on his sweatpants-covered dick and he realises that he’s getting hard. Not all the way yet, but noticeable.
He freezes.
Gun notices immediately, of course he does, of course he kisses by dialling directly into his partner. As a kisser he just had to be the most sensitive and mutual giver, didn’t he. Off curses himself and his curiosity.
“Papii,” Gun says, leaning back. Off tries to duck his head but Gun has a grip on his hair and tugs his face up. Gun scrambles off of his lap. Off—his own worst enemy—tries to catch a glimpse at Gun’s crotch to see if he’s equally affected but his sweater is oversized and falls to cover him before Off can see. “You’re freaking out.” Off tries to deny it but when he opens his mouth a wheeze comes out. “Why are you freaking out?”
Off’s hand shakes, but he manages to wave at himself.
“But this was your idea!” Gun accuses, pointing a finger.
Off has no defense. It was his idea. And now he is, undoubtedly, freaking out.
A mask drops over Gun’s face. One second he’s classic grumpy Gun, the next he looks perfectly placid. Only his rumpled hair and slightly swollen lips give away that anything happened. “You don’t need to be self-conscious, I’ve already seen you hard.” Off knows this, they’ve even acknowledged it when it happens. There’s no way to share that many hotel rooms and that many early wake ups with someone else and not see things. He hates Gun’s tone, though, like he’s being handled, a spooked horse who needs to be talked down. And what’s worse is that Gun isn’t wrong to do it: he is freaking out, after all. “It’s a normal reaction to having someone close to you,” Gun says. “It’s happened to lots of guys and it doesn’t mean anything about them.”
Gun is offering him an out.
Off feels something in him snap like sesame brittle but he takes it.
“Right, yes. We were just practicing.” Off is still sitting there on his couch, legs spread, sleeves rolled up. He hasn’t moved at all. “Did you,” he clears his throat, “get what you needed?”
Gun looks at him for a long moment. "Yes," he says, finally. "I think I did." Then he stands up and walks out.
***
The cylinder of cold sticks in Off's chest for the next few days. He goes to work, calls his family, checks Twitter, all of it at a remove.
This feeling lasts right up until he sees Gun again. They're doing promo for a product and Gun is there on time, like always, rushing in and waving at everyone. A little cloud of activity on his part and indulgence on everyone else's.
Gun doesn't see Off at first, which is great because the moment Off catches sight of Gun's sunglasses pushing his hair away from his ears Off's insides melt and overheat. A few days ago he had his fingers in that hair.
"Papii," Gun acknowledges. He seems totally normal. He smiles at Off. He doesn't look at all like he had his tongue in Off's mouth. Doesn't give away with so much as a twitch of his lips that he giggled when Off put a hand on his waistband, right above the waist of his jeans. Off hasn't thought about any of that since they did it, but it's all coming back to him now.
Off stares. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, with his face. He's saved by the makeup artist.
Afterwards, he pulls Gun aside and Gun goes easily. It’s not really private, but it’s a room at the mall that seems to be exclusively used as a backstage for the various events that go on. Off isn’t sure what else it could be for. There’s a PA in one corner with a clipboard looking at a stack of posters, but other than that it’s just them. Off opens his mouth. So, haha, that last time we were kissing got a little intense, right? He closes his mouth, words unsaid. Maybe Gun will say something. Gun likes to clear the air between them whenever anything happens. And this definitely counts as something they need to clear the air about. Otherwise Off is going to keep thinking about it. But Gun can start them off. He’s good at it. He’ll very clearly be like, You should have said bye to me before you left the event, so Off knows to do that next time. So maybe Off just needs to give him the space to say his piece.
Gun just smiles at him and waits and keeps smiling.
Off realises: Gun doesn't expect anything from him. Not a damn thing. When Gun said lots of guys got hard he meant other guys who have kissed him. Of course Gun can act normal. This isn't his first time. He said. He said it happens to lots of guys. No big deal. The heat in Off’s chest feels like burning. He hates it. Hates the thought that he's just like these other guys. He's just some guy who Gun let in close and who couldn't handle it.
That's not right.
***
It’s more than not right. It pisses him off.
Not at Gun. He’s pretty sure. He’s pretty sure he’s not pissed at Gun. He’s just mad when he thinks about him. When he thinks about Gun deciding they don’t need to talk about what happened. Told Off straight out that it didn’t mean anything. Off had Gun in his lap and Gun is acting like it’s no big deal. Like, sure, they have kissed many times but that was for work—
Wait.
A horrible thought is occurring to Off. A thought he maybe should have had before.
This was for work.
Is that how Gun sees it? Must be. He came to practice.
Maybe when Gun said it happened to lots of guys he didn’t mean assholes he met at parties who didn’t deserve a second of Gun’s time, but his costars. People who just got a little too into it when Gun was delivering on a scene. Off opens up his phone, thumb scrolling down to Oab’s contact. Can he ask Oab what he did when he had Gun up close in his space, under his hands, smelling so sweet? In a professional context.
Then he closes his phone. That’s too much to write down.
***
Still, Off wakes up feeling better. Gun is right. This was professional kissing. It felt different, but that’s just a question of style. And besides, it’s not like Gun hasn’t made him hard before. There’s been quite a bit of wiggling together in their career and friction is friction.
Any issues or differences are all in Off’s mind. He just needs to keep reminding himself that this was totally normal, just like Gun said, and it should be good.
They’re at an event and Tay and New are there. They have the working relationship of two weasels tied in a sack together, so Off and Gun do their best to be good friends and help them not have a miserable time.
Gun sidles up to him and tugs his elbow. Off knows what that sign means so he bends his knees a bit. Gun goes up on his tiptoes and cups Off’s ear to whisper into it. His lips tickle Off’s ear, but Off has a lot of practice staying still.
“Did you see when P’New came up unexpectedly behind P’Tay?” Gun asks. Off nods. “I thought P’Tay was going to scratch his eyes out.”
Off chuckles. The other best part of doing events with Gun is that he has a built-in gossip partner. Gun pulls back. Off turns to look at him. He’s going to make a snarky comment about Tay needing to pay better attention to his surroundings but his eyes lock on Gun’s face. It’s really close to his because of the whispering. Gun is wearing his Chanel lip gloss and it makes his lips look a little extra pink. Off can’t look away from them. He’d barely have to learn down—
He yanks his gaze away. He swallows.
Well. Seems like Off isn’t as fine and normal about this as he was hoping. Maybe it was for work, but it wasn’t just work. This was Gun kissing like he wanted to. He said. He said that was how he kissed when it wasn’t for the cameras. And that’s the kiss that did whatever is going on to Off. Whatever it is that is making him keep thinking about it, making him stare at Gun and wonder.
“I’m going to get a drink.”
He goes and gets a drink and when he gets back New has an arm around Gun and Gun is laughing. His big laugh where his top lip pulls back from his teeth and his nose wrinkles. He can't see when he laughs like that so Off just watches. New smiles, pleased with himself. He rubs a thumb on Gun’s shoulder. Gun fits neatly under his arm.
Off feels a spike of anger so intense it whites out his vision. He breathes slowly, carefully, trying to clear his vision. His fingers are gripped so tight on his glass that they hurt. He takes two steps, one, two, and puts his cup down.
This is bad.
Off sticks to Tay for the rest of the night.
When they say goodbye, Off makes a special point of seeking out Gun—don’t need to tell him things twice, he knows goodbyes are mandatory. Gun does a sort of halfway wave and Off grabs his fingers. Gun lets them be grabbed. He’s so easy to touch. It’s one of Gun’s best qualities and one that was the hardest for Off to learn to appreciate. He appreciates it now.
“Bye,” Off says.
“Mm,” Gun says, half distracted. “Bye bye, Papii.”
***
Off drives home. He gets home, throws his keys down and takes off his suit jacket. He kicks off his shoes.
This year Gun has really upped his fashion game, not content with just looking good but with also serving a look, and Off knows that the two of them were the best-dressed men there. The pictures are going to be good. He’ll have to look at twitter later to see. Off smiles a little, thinking about it—Off and Gun, matched set.
He undoes a button on his shirt. But Gun also looks good with other people. There’s probably going to be as many Gun and Tay or Gun and New pics. A cloud passes over his heart. Normally that doesn’t bother him, but it feels weird tonight.
Unbidden, he recalls the comfortable way New and Gun fit together and always have. And he also remembers his moment of temporary insanity where he almost crushed a glass in his hands. On reflection, his only explanation is that he was… jealous. But he can’t have been. What could he be jealous of?
Off spins around and grabs his keys.
He goes down two floors and does what he never does, and knocks on Arm’s door. He chews the inside of his lip. He hopes Arm isn’t asleep.
Off doesn’t have to wait long before Arm opens up the door.
“Who—” Arm was clearly in bed. He’s in a white t-shirt and boxers and his hair is sticking up in four different directions. When he sees Off he stops and squints. Off must look as deranged as he feels because he opens the door and waves him in.
Off comes inside. He’s still in just his socks so he doesn’t have any shoes to take off.
“Um,” he says, shifting from foot to foot.
Arm sighs. He gestures to the couch and Off sits on it. Arm brings him a glass of water. Off stares at it.
“What’s the crisis?” Arm asks.
“I got jealous of Gun today.”
“Of Gun, or because of Gun?” It’s such an incisive question that Off gapes at Arm. Arm runs his fingers through his hair and sits on the couch. “Gun used to make you jealous all the time. You didn’t like the way he was with other guys; you got over it.”
Off closes his mouth. He doesn’t remember that. But he does remember that he used to get annoyed with Gun more and it was one of the things he worked on after they had their big fight.
Off put his head in his hands. “Well, that’s because I thought I was homophobic.”
Arm stills. “And now?”
Off groans. “We kissed—like, for work, but it wasn’t for work. And I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“If this is going where I think this is going…” Arm trails off and Off braces himself. Arm stands up. Off tenses more. “I need coffee,” Arm says. He goes to his fancy machine. He pushes three buttons and it starts to hiss. Thirty seconds later Arm has a boiling hot espresso. He shoots it back. Off winces. That has to burn. “That will kick in in a minute.” He comes back to the couch. Off stares at him. “Oh, did you want one? Normally my hospitality is better but it’s one a.m. and I have a wardrobe fitting at six.” Off feels bad.
“I could just go,” Off offers.
Arm pinches the bridge of his nose, then he puts on his most calm emcee voice. “No, I apologise. You were telling me.”
Off reviews what he’s said so far. Kissed Gun, got jealous. Sums it up. “Actually, that’s it.”
Arm stares. “Okay… so what are you going to do?”
Off thinks about it. “Uh, nothing?”
Arm nods slowly. “Do you think that’s wise?”
“More wise than—” his throat closes up.
Arm nods again, but this time encouraging. “Than?”
Off glares. “You’re trying to get me to say something.”
“Yes,” Arm says. “I want you to admit that you have a thing for Gun and say that you’re going to do something about it.”
Off chokes on air. He starts coughing and blindly reaches for the glass of water. He takes a couple of gulps.
“But I’m not…” He thinks of the way Gun’s friends change when he’s around, the straight interloper who shouldn’t be offended. He remembers Jennie telling him to stop making gay jokes. He doesn’t fit.
“Are you sure?” Arm asks the question with no judgment.
Off’s head snaps up. “Tay told you.”
“He’s bad at drinking games, it’s not his fault.”
Tay and Off used to be roommates, and they had shared a bedroom. It was fine, they lived together well. They were flush on first successes, on the highs that came from entertaining a crowd and feeling their pleasure. At being rewarded for being funny and personable and—Off can admit this—constantly being told they were handsome. And maybe, just once, they came back from a party drunk, stumbling into each other. They helped each other out of their ties and jackets and their hands wandered a bit and Off leaned in. Tay stopped him. Not mean. Just. A hand on Off’s chest, and a ‘woah’ and Off cleared his throat, suddenly dead sober, and they never spoke of it again.
At the time, Off knew it wasn’t smart. He shouldn’t have tried it. It felt like putting his hand too close to the fire when cooking meat, like walking right on the edge of a ledge, a thrill and a danger in one. He wanted to be famous and he couldn’t be famous and do that stuff. So he put it away. He wasn’t ever into Tay, he just knew he was beautiful and he was there.
Which was reasonable because, of course, everyone looked at guys and noticed how good they looked. It’s a profession stacked with beautiful people. It was natural to look at the competition and think about the shape of them, about what made them attractive. That was only natural. But doing something, no. That was a no-no.
Then he met Gun. Gun, who went out and lived his life, and was careful, but still did it. It felt ridiculously dangerous, and Off told him so. That didn’t go over well. So he never told anyone about what he and Tay almost did, because it was stupid, but also because it would make him a hypocrite.
“It was just one time,” Off says, a feeble defense. He scratches his fingernail on the side of the glass in his hand.
“And Gun, just a one time thing? That’s what you want?”
Off starts to nod. Then he shakes his head. Because aside from this kissing fixation, he’s in a good place with Gun right now. It would be really easy to fuck it up. He’s got a list of things he can do and he can’t do, to avoid him doing just that. He built it over time. And a lot of them boil down to not asking about gay stuff, not even letting himself think too hard about it in case that comes through.
“Arm, what do I do?” There’s a bubble of something building up in Off’s chest. A ball of lightness that nonetheless hurts as it pushes its way through him.
“Tell him with your words.”
Off chews his cheek. Arm makes it sound so easy. Tell him. Like this isn’t the most important professional relationship he has. “What if he doesn’t take it well?”
Arm snorts. “Go to sleep. Tell him when you wake up.” He stands up.
Off stands up, too. That’s a cue that he’s being kicked out if he ever saw one. “Thanks.”
“You can thank me later,” Arm says. “Ideally with a nice bottle of cologne, you know what I like.”
Off sure is surrounded by materialists.
***
He wakes up feeling significantly less crazy, which is unfortunate because what seemed almost reasonable at one a.m. on Arm’s couch sounds impossible in the light of day.
But it also feels impossible to keep seeing Gun and not kiss him. He had a couple of near misses at that screening already. Off can keep a secret, but this is too big. Gun is going to share a drinkable yogurt with him and Off is going to end up licking it off of his lips, he knows himself. He knows his limits.
Gun has workshops today—the fateful workshops, he hopes everyone else is appreciating the character work Gun put in. Off is thinking specifically of the kissing, but Gun puts a lot into every role, regardless. Because it’s workshops, it’s trivial for Off to lurk around the GMM building and wait.
Off hears the workshop end before he sees anyone. There’s a distinctive sound that groups of people make when they’re milling about. Off goes up to the door. Again, he hears Gun coming before he sees him. Much like the room milling sound, there’s a contour to each person’s presence. Off couldn’t say exactly what it is, the length of the steps, the small shuffling step that Gun uses sometimes to catch up if his speed gets ahead of his feet, or the way he always throws a parting word over his shoulder when he’s about to hit a threshold, but there’s some combination of things that makes him him. Off reaches out and snags Gun’s wrist.
Gun lets himself be tugged out of the room, waving as he goes. He’s got a sweatband on his forehead that coordinates with his track pants.
“I’m taking you to dinner,” Off says.
“Oh,” Gun says. “Where are we going?” Just like that. Gun always makes it really easy on him.
Off thinks of and discards several options. “Delivery,” he says. “You pick.” It’ll take them a bit of back and forth because even when Off says that Gun can pick Gun will show a couple of options and scroll through it before he settles on one. If they start the process now then something should show up at his place by the time they get there.
“To where?”
“Your place,” Off says. Gun’s comfortable there.
Gun’s fingers pause on his phone. It’s the first moment of doubt since Off snagged him. Off in hales, waiting for the question, but Gun doesn’t say anything. “Okay,” Gun says, voice even.
They don’t talk on the ride over but Gun keeps shooting looks at Off. Off focuses on the road.
Off greets Gun’s grandmother, asks her about her day. Gun gets the food and bowls. He moves in the kitchen slowly. Off can hear the cutlery drawer scraping, cupboards opening and closing. Eventually, Gun comes out into the living room, bag in one hand, bowls in the other. Off takes the bag out of his hand and their fingers touch. It kicks his heart up but it also makes him feel like he can do this. It’s just Gun. If it’s the choice of having more of Gun or not, then that’s easy. Gun makes it easy.
They go up to his bedroom. It’s a mess, like always, but there’s enough space to sit. They put the food out between them. Maybe Off should talk now? But Gun is grumpy when he’s hungry so maybe they should wait. So he waits. He waits until he sees Gun twiddle his spoon between his fingers.
He takes a breath. “I think we should talk about when you came over to mine. Last time,” he adds, in case it wasn’t clear.
Gun’s shoulders hunch in. “I said it wasn’t a big deal already. It doesn’t have to be a problem. And…” the corners of his mouth are all turned down. Somehow this conversation is already out of Off’s control and it’s barely started. He feels out of his depth. How did this happen so fast? “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault, you didn’t do anything.” Gun looks him in the face. “My friend Fern is single right now, if you want me to set you up.”
Off’s eyebrows fly off into his hairline. He puts his bowl down. “That’s not what I’m saying.” Off reaches for Gun’s shoulder. Gun stills, very deliberately, the absence of a flinch with all the markers of one. Off doesn’t take his hand back. He squeezes. Suddenly, he’s worried Gun is going to try and run away on him, maybe not physically, but tuck it all away like he’s been trying. “Did you think I’d be mad?”
Gun hunches again. “I dunno,” he says. “Sometimes guys are.”
Off feels a rush of anger. So it was shitty guys. Ooh, Off wants to know who. And maybe their addresses so he can express how he feels about that. He keeps going about this all backwards. He shouldn’t have asked in the abstract, when he met Gun and made him feel like he was being judged. He shouldn’t have tried to sneak his way into seeing what Gun was like in private. And he shouldn’t be sitting here, now, getting angry at some random dumbfuck guys when he has been the biggest fuckup when it comes to telling Gun what he wants. What he feels.
“I want to do it again. Lots of times.” The words rush out of him. Gun’s eyes widen. “Not for work,” he clarifies. “But as… as… whatever it is you like, when you’re doing it because you want to. Not just kissing,” in case he wasn’t clear.
Off wants to say something else, say the perfect thing. Something that will make everything better. But he can’t think of anything. This is all there is.
All he can do now is wait. Gun listened to him patiently and now he’s staring at Gun. Gun looks down chews his lip, a nervous tick that he’s mostly stopped to save his makeup. Off doesn’t know what it means that he’s willing to ruin his look because of Off.
He lifts his head.
“Papii.” Gun’s eyes are shimmering. Oh no, what has Off done now? Has he made it worse? “Are you sure? You have to be sure. Cause I’ve—I don’t want to kiss you and have you regret it. Not again. Not when I… I can’t take that. You can’t leave.”
Off’s heart squeezes like it’s going through a press. And he also understands why Arm looked at him funny when he said he was worried about how Gun would react. Wow, Off really is not very observant.
“Not leaving,” Off says. He knows that vibes are important to Gun and he’s not sure if this is the right vibe, but Off clearly doesn’t know vibes, has never known his own vibes. He takes Gun’s spoon out of his hand, puts it in his bowl and laces their fingers together. “Kiss me again?” he asks.
And Gun does.