Work Text:
( I )
Michael’s cell phone screen lit up: his phone was ringing. Luckily, he wasn’t asleep yet, but was instead reading the synopsis of a production he was interested in. The call wasn’t one he was actually expecting. He looked at the screen, intrigued. Nick? I wonder what’s going on at Bryan’s party…
Bryan Singer was with part of the team on the “Apocalypse” wrap party. Only the group done filming was there, the “first unit,” as Bryan called it. Michael and the others who still had scenes to film were staying at the hotel.
Michael answered the call. “Hey, Nick. What’s going on there?”
“Michael! Thank God you’re not asleep yet.”
Hearing Nick’s tone, which was much more worried than amused, Michael forgot the script he was reading and concentrated on the call.
“What happened?” Michael asked, apprehensively.
“It’s James.”
Michael knew Nick wouldn’t be talking like that if it wasn’t urgent. Michael had chosen not to attend the party, not only because of the filming he had next morning; he was usually able to sleep late after a party and still wake up early to go filming. No, he had another concern: he wanted to avoid James McAvoy. After all the interviews, the panels and San Diego Comic Con parties, there had been a certain electricity in the air between them. Something they didn’t dare talking about.
Michael brought his attention back to the present. Now, that call…
“Tell me!”
“I think he drank too much, man. I believe your help would be more than welcome now. No one is noticing he’s not doing fine, cause they’re kinda wasted, you know…”
“What about you?”
“I don’t think I can convince James to leave now, but you could try…”
“Put him on.”
“Well… Wait a minute…”
The music in the background was more audible when Nick turned from the phone to reach James, since he had walked away from the noise earlier so he could make the call. Michael heard happy voices. Laughter. Loud talking. But nothing intelligible, until he focused. He heard someone calling “James.” It was Nick, for sure. All of Michael’s attention turned to that name.
Michael deduced from parts of the rapid conversation between James and Nick that Nick had passed the phone to James. Nick was trying to keep James from attracting Bryan’s attention so Michael and James could talk better.
The background noise reduced a bit. A very animated voice with an unmistakable scottish accent said his name one the other side of the line:
“Michael! Great party here! You should’ve come! You could teach those bartenders how to make drinks! No one makes martinis better than you!”
James’ talking was usually accelerated. After few drinks, some phrases were barely comprehensible in James’ strong Scottish accent.
“…and Olivia, man, she did a pirouette on the middle of the dance floor, can you believe that? A…maz…ing. You should be here…”
“James, you didn’t forget that you have a flight to London tomorrow early, did you?”
A brief weird silence on the other side of the line only made Michael’s uneasiness grow. While speaking, he got up from the bed and started to look for clothes to go out.
“Of course… The flight… London. I didn’t forget.”
“So how about you get out of there and get some rest? I think you already celebrated enough.”
“Huh? No way… I haven’t even made my “Sambuca drink” demonstration yet… I think Nick still tastes it down his throat…” Familiar and adorable laughter was followed by Nick’s voice in the background, saying “no way!”
Definitely, dropping by the party would be more efficient than talking on the phone. James could be really stubborn if he wanted to.
“Give Nick the mobile.”
“Already?” The voice sounded more mellow than it had initially. “You really don’t wannae talk to me, do you?” Michael could hear several layers in that single question.
The mobile changed hands. Nick was about to say something, but he didn’t have to: “I’m on my way!” said Michael quickly.
( II )
Michael passed through the hotel’s lobby hurriedly, but he didn’t escape Oscar Isaac’s look. Oscar was still on the ground floor bar, with members from unit 2.
“Hey, Michael, fancy a drink?”
The question went unanswered, because Michael passed through the main entrance fast as lightning.
“Wow, he’s sure in a hurry!” Oscar remarked, turning back to his friends.
Michael didn’t take long to arrive at the bar where the party was happening. Bryan had reserved the night exclusively to him and his team: a totally private party. No press; although he couldn't avoid the media getting a picture or two, he wanted to control the message and post any party pictures himself.
Once Michael arrived where the group was, the sudden shadow juxtaposed with the lights flickering on the dance floor made it difficult to see exactly where James was. But Nick, watching the entrance the whole time, identified Michael’s figure immediately and went to meet him.
“Michael, here!”
Michael noted Nick’s gesture more than his name being called. Coming closer, he asked:
“So, where’s that lunatic?”
“Bryan, him, Olivia, Alexandra, Ben and Josh were taking some pictures to commemorate the moment. You know Bryan, tomorrow they’ll be on Instagram, on Twitter…”
“I know, I know. And James… Is he better?”
Nick led Michael to where the group was. “See for yourself.”
When Michael came closer from the group’s table, James was happily talking about the interview for Conan, which some of them had attended. Olivia laughed a lot, since the story was about her difficulties with the suit her character wears. Michael’s arrival made James lose track of the conversation. His eyes were suddenly more brilliant and fixed on the approaching figure.
The fact may have escaped more inattentive eyes and those of people who’d had several drinks, but Nick noticed that his intuition was right.
“Fassbender!! You honor us with your presence!”
By the way James used his last name and the slight irony in his voice, Michael realized things weren’t fine.
“Sit with us, Michael! Let’s celebrate!” said Olivia, happily. She looked as if she were having the last party of her life.
The group made room for Nick and Michael to sit, on either side of James. Bryan Singer seemed more interested in being crowded by the group’s new members than by Fassbender’s presence at the party. In that moment, the heavens seemed to collaborate as the DJ played a song that made the most of them get up to dance; it seemed that no one could resist Jennifer Lopez’s “On the Floor”. Olivia looked like J-Lo in person singing ‘Let me introduce you/ to my party people/ in the club…’ sinuously in front of the director, while the rest of the group danced very excitedly around her. It was the opportunity Michael needed to talk to James, despite the loud music.
“James, I think you have had too much to drink…”
James looked alternately to his drink and to Michael’s eyes, without saying a word.
“And you… didn’t drink… anything! Bryan made a menu… Only of special drinks! I tried… er… all of them!” James raised his voice a bit. “There should be a drink in your tribute! The Magneto!”
Drinking the last of his cup, he said, “C’mon… let’s get you a drink!” James got up, stumbling a bit, going to the balcony where drinks were being prepared.
Michael signalled Nick to wait at the table. He had no intention of drinking, but followed James anyway, because he planned to get him out of there in a couple minutes.
“A scotch for me and a…martini for my…friend!” James said to the bartender, turning to Michael after. With a stronger Scottish accent and raising one of the eyebrows, he said, “You can judge… the martini…” His eyes seemed to oscillate between being open or closed. “It doesn’t compare to yours.” As he spoke, he tried to fix his eyes on Michael’s, and inadvertently moved closer to his friend. “It’s nothing compared to yours…No one…compares…” The words were losing coherence. Michael made a gesture to the bartender to suspend James’ drink service and then beckoned Nick.
“Come with us, James,” Michael said gently to his friend. Then, addressing Nick, he said, “You can get a cab easily; they seemed to be lined up outside.”
“Okay!” Nick went to arrange it.
Michael hugged James around the waist, realizing the other man was stumbling. The sudden proximity sent a shiver down Michael’s spine. He felt James’ body heat, with all the energy he seemed to have.
“Why the… hurry? We didn’t even… say goodbye…” James looked like a child leaving the playground.
Michael answered him, trying to focus on the rescue task and not on the feelings he was having. “Believe me, mate, they won’t even notice we left.”
The sudden night air made James’ head spin as they arrived at the sidewalk. “I’m…dizzy…” he said, leaning on Michael.
“It’s fine, it’s fine… We are going to the hotel,” Michael said, watching for signs of James´ collapse. “Stay awake, James…”
Nick arranged a cab. The hotel wasn’t far away from there.
(III)
When they arrived at the hotel, Nick paid for the cab while Michael entered holding James. Jennifer was still in the main lobby; she had given a late interview about her new movie “Joy” and had stayed to chat. As the group arrived, she immediately spoke to Nick.
“What was that? Bryan’s party?”
“Yeah… It’s still going on, we left early. James isn’t doing so well.”
As Jennifer stole all of Nick’s attention, Michael, who was waiting for the elevator in the hall, attracted Oscar Isaac’s gaze again. This time, Oscar left the bar and approached Michael. Seeing James’ condition, he asked, “Want some help?”
“I think I can manage it,” Michael answered, almost bothered by the other’s presence. Glancing over at the lobby and realizing Jennifer hadn’t left Nick alone for a second, he ended up accepting Oscar’s help. That fact didn’t go unnoticed by the almost completely wasted Scotsman.
“Hey, Mr. Apocalypse-in-person, what are…you…doing here?” James asked with a certain irony, leaning more into Michael.
Oscar laughed and ignored the provocation in James’ voice. “Okay, McAvoy.”
All three entered the elevator. Oscar pressed the button for their floor. Michael didn’t say anything, too concerned with James’ reactions. The door opened and James stumbled a bit as he stepped out, supported by the other two.
“The… hallway… is… spinning…”
They went to James’ room door, opening it with a card.
“Don’t you have… a world… to dominate? What are you doing…here?” James asked Oscar insistently, while being supported and led to a chair. Oscar had been bothering James since SDCC, where he’d seen the growing closeness between Michael and he; the close conversations, comments, and shared smiles in interviews. And even before the teams split during filming, there was an intimacy established between them; a provocative and virile atmosphere that seemed to exude from both of their personalities.
Oscar didn’t answer James and addressed Michael instead. “Everything’s fine?”
“I got it now, thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” Oscar said to Michael. He turned to James. “Go to sleep, McAvoy!”
Oscar closed the door behind him.
A brief silence settled over the room. There was barely time for Michael and James to exchange looks before James stumbled to his feet and said, “I think…I’m gonna throw up…”
“Ok, bathroom, now!” Michael said, helping James get there.
(IV)
Michael turned the shower on and hot water started streaming.
“Now, shower.”
“Oh, come on Michael, I… want to… sleep,” James whined trying to curl up on the floor.
“No, no, no. You can sleep later. Come on! Up!” As Michael spoke, he helped James stand up, which he did unsteadily.
“Fuck… I’m still dizzy…”
“A shower will help you.”
James obediently started to strip, holding onto Michael. Michael had seen McAvoy completely naked before, in other circumstances. Seeing him like this, now, apparently unresisting, a light fuzz on his mostly bald head revealing growing hair, the clean shaved face; everything made him mentally compare James to a little boy.
James got in the shower. “It’s not cold, is it?” he asked Michael.
“No. I know you hate cold showers.”
Making sure James could stand on his own, Michael went to get him some clothes. He noticed that James hadn’t packed his stuff yet, even though he had a flight scheduled next morning, a fact that made him intrigued. Apparently there was a certain resistance (unconscious or not) in that trip to London.
Entering the bathroom again, Michael noticed that James had finished his shower and had a towel wrapped around his waist. His back turned to the door while he turned the shower off. This time, Michael couldn’t stop himself from staring at his friend’s back; his pale skin, full of freckles, looking like attractive microscopic sparks…
When James turned around, Michael realized his eyes had never seemed as blue as they did at that moment, especially contrasted with the whiteness of his skin…James suddenly noticed what had captured Michael’s gaze, forcing Michael into saying something to stop his train of thought.
“Feeling better?” Michael asked, giving James his clothes.
“Better… yes.” James’ voice lacked conviction, however.
The room’s phone rang and Michael answered it; it was Nick. “Everything’s fine, Nick. I think our friend’s gonna sleep a bit now.”
James dressed as he tried to deduce, based on Michael’s responses, what Nick was asking. The way the party ended and the moment they left the bar were still hazy in his memory, but he knew Nick had been a crucial piece of what had happened.
“Thank him for me,” James said, walking slowly to the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water. He drank almost all of it in one long slug.
“This hangover is only starting,” said Michael, hanging up the phone.
James sat on the bed, looking at Michael, who was sitting on the couch.
“Wanna talk about it?” Michael asked gently. James let out a deep breath.
“No,” he said, averting his gaze. “Too tired.” James closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his hand. He relaxed on the bed, letting his head tilt in direction of the sofa where Michael was sitting.
“Rest. Try to get some sleep,” said Michael, trying to dissolve the tension in the air.
“Will you…” The hesitation in James voice indicated he wanted Michael to stay a little longer, but wouldn’t ask him to.
“I’ll stay a little bit.”
It was weird seeing never-shy James McAvoy suddenly at a loss for words, as he struggled with his mixed feelings..
“Your flight is at…”
“At 9,” said James, almost whispering, fighting to keep his eyes open. Michael was watching James for signs of sleep, but James wanted Michael to stay a little longer. It bothered James not being able to enjoy that feeling. He wish he could speak to Michael about it. On the other hand, he didn’t dare to. He could be getting carried away in a false reality created and fed by the media, a reality that had started to echo inside him. But how could he deny that feeling of euphoria while in Michael’s presence? His thoughts started to slow down and disarrange, until he finally surrendered to sleep.
(V)
James woke to the phone ringing insistently. For a moment, he forgot where he was and what was going on. He reached for the phone and listened to the receptionist’s precise and delicate voice saying, “Mr. McAvoy, alarm service. It’s 6:30. Have a nice day!”
Thanking the receptionist almost automatically, James swore in his mind. He didn’t remember asking for the alarm service; someone did it for him. A nagging headache made his temples throb. His mouth was dry and his stomach was queasy. He got up and went to the refrigerator to get another bottle of water. The end of the night before started to replay in his memory like a movie; a film whose last scene was Michael’s silhouette watching him sleep. James emptied the bottle remembering Michael’s last words about hangover. Suddenly, he remembered he still needed to pack his stuff for the trip back to London. He went to the bedroom closet and, when he opened it, he found, surprisingly, all of his things were carefully packed in his bags, leaving just a change of clothes and some other necessaries unpacked. A note written on the hotel’s stationery was on the desk.
‘I hoped I helped a bit. Took the liberty to ask for your breakfast to be served on your room at 7. Thought you might want to avoid unnecessary questions and looks from a curious team so early in the morning. Text me when you’re able to. Have a nice trip!’
No signature. It wasn’t needed. The details arranged so carefully only made James’ admiration for Michael grow, and made him think about how he would like to thank Michael in person. But that note… it seemed to suggest a certain distance; like a “stop” sign flashing on his mind. For who was that sign meant? Was Michael dealing with the same questions that James was?
(VI)
James wished he could have taken a much longer shower, but he took the time only to make himself less indisposed and appropriately dressed for the trip. A few minutes later, breakfast arrived, as Michael had requested.
The breakfast tray had several savory items and James realized he was hungry; his stomach was completely empty. He remembered vaguely having puked. All the drinks he had at the party seemed to be plotting against his body.
“Totally voluntary plot,” he thought out loud, admitting to himself that he had exceeded his limits and that he knew the reason behind it.
Tea and fruits seemed the best option at that moment. His phone rang and the screen lit up: Anne-Marie.
“Hello, dear! Good morning!” he said, mentally calculating what time it was in London while sipping at his tea. The familiar voice on the other end of the line made him miss home.
“Hi, honey! Is everything alright? How was the party last night?”
Hearing this, James wondered if women had a special gift to detect problems.
“It was… amazing… A Bryan party, you know…” James’ usually talkative speech turned hesitant seemed to offer involuntary clues.
“How about you… Are you doing fine?” That question came from someone who knew him pretty well. Anne-Marie wasn’t just his wife; she was also his best friend and someone very special to him.
“A fucking hangover and a damned headache, but the patient will live, “ he said playfully.
The voice on the other end was tender. “Oh, poor boy!” she said, followed by a mutter he couldn’t define. Before she could ask any more questions about the party, James asked about herself and Brendan.
“Everyone’s fine here. Missing you! At what time your flight will arrive?”
“I have a layover, unfortunately. I’ll arrive in London at about 4pm, if we’re not delayed.”
“I wish I could get you at the airport, but I have an interview at 4…”
James interrupted her gently. “It’s fine, darling.” He explained there would be a car from the agency waiting for him, anyway.
“Do you have anything scheduled once you get here?”
“I’m afraid so. Doctor Victor Frankenstein won’t leave me alone…” he said, joking.
“Ok. You call me as soon as you get here! Or text me, if I don’t answer.”
“Always.”
“Love you!”
“Love you too.” The call ended. Obligations, his London schedule, a flight, wife, son… reality was a necessary anchor at that moment.
(VII)
James called reception to check out and asked them to come pick up his luggage. He gathered the last of his things in a messenger bag that he would carry himself. The doorbell rang and James thought it would be a hotel employee. He opened the door and was both surprised and happy to find an unexpected visitor standing there.
“Hey!” The tall man greeted pleasantly, a discreet smile on his face.
“Hey yourself! Come in! I thought I would leave without saying goodbye, or thanking you… for yesterday.” James realized as he spoke that the right words were missing from his mind.
Michael entered the room. He looked at the table, the suitcases and finally at James, waiting for him to speak, which didn’t take long.
“Thanks for packing, and for arranging breakfast. I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
Michael shrugged and smiled, tilting his head in a well known gesture. “How about you? Feeling any better? Too much hangover?”
“There are two elephants knocking about in my head, but they’ll surely get tired soon…” James answered with a humorously exaggerated grimace. Michael smiled, but it didn’t hide the fact that he was abnormally serious; as if he wanted to ask or say something but didn’t know how.
“Say it,” James said, directly.
Captivated by his eyes, and their beautiful blue color, Michael felt unarmed and defenseless. The feeling was both pleasant and dangerous at the same time. He wished he could voice all those thoughts to James, but how could he do it without sounding weird?
“Say it, Michael. There’s something you are struggling with inside. I can feel that.”
Michael used James’ last spoken words to start the conversation. “Feeling. It’s about that.”
James realized the talk would broach the matter he was avoiding. And, he realized he wasn’t the only one avoiding it.
“I have an impression this talk will last longer than the time we have now, “ he said, trying to stay rational and in control of the conversation.
“You tell me,” answered Michael. “Yesterday…”
The doorbell interrupted them; the bellhop had arrived for James’ luggage. James gave him the suitcases and as he closed the door, he turned back to Michael. Michael had leaned up against the wall and lit a cigarette, and was now smoking slowly and running a hand over his eyes.
James tried to out his thoughts in order, but Michael’s presence alone was enough to mess with his mind. Why did he have to be so attractively perfect?
“I’m gonnae miss you,” James said, without thinking.
Michael gave him a pained and vulnerable look, exhaling his smoke. Then he took a deep breath. “I didn’t come to say goodbye…” he said, fixing his gaze at the floor. The statement made sense to James when he thought about the note Michael had left.
“But… you came here,” James completed gently, observing Michael’s posture and trying to read him.
Michael lifted his gaze to James’ face. “It’s another way of telling you I’m… gonna miss you too.”
“We’ve said goodbye before. Why is it different this time?”
The conversation was like a delicate surgery in which the doctors were afraid the patient would die.
“Okay, I’m gonna be frank with you, doesn’t matter what results of it…” he continued, looking James in the eye. “Your presence unsettles me, physically speaking. And your absence… which seemed… for me, as a… comfortable solution… makes me feel even worse.”
James was going to say something, but Michael raised his hand, asking to not be interrupted. “I know it doesn’t seem to make any sense… We’re really good friends and I don’t want to lose your friendship. But I… needed to tell you that. By all means, if you’re truly my best friend, perhaps you can make me understand—”
James took a few steps in Michael’s direction and touched his arm. “Hey, know what? I feel something similar for you.”
The tension in the air seemed to lessen a little bit. James continued speaking, and this time, it was James who wouldn’t let Michael interrupt him. “As we got closer to the end of filming I was getting depressed and I didn’t understand why. And during filming, whenever our teams were working separately, it seemed like something was missing…” James averted his gaze from Michael then. “And seeing you so close to Oscar, to Mr. Apocalypse…” James’ voice gained an edge of bitterness and he even grimaced a bit. “It was making me mad. I started teasing him… You know I always tease people, usually in a good way… But with him… I really wanted to annoy him.”
“Because you were jealous?” Michael asked. Curiosity and satisfaction mixed inside him.
“I don’t know what else to call it. But I kept telling myself it was normal to be jealous of close friends, you know?” Michael could see angst and confusion in James’ eyes. In an instant, all of the confidence Michael had seen since the first time they met, on Band of Brothers, seemed shaken. He wished he could make things easier for James. He wanted to soothe him.
“James, in a few hours you’ll be in London, with your family, back to your schedule...and all of those questions will disappear.” Michael knew that once he was back in London, James wouldn’t think about Michael anymore, he’d be too busy with his daily routine. Even though it brought shadows to his own heart, he wanted to assure James.
“You’re…right.” James answered, lacking conviction. He turned to look at Michael’s green eyes and his gaze slid down to Michael’s lips. He could feel his breath, and the smell of cigarette. Seeing that Michael saw where he was looking, James interrupted his train of thought. “I better get going.”
Michael put out the cigarette on the ashtray. “I’m going down too. We’ll be leaving soon to start filming.”
(VIII)
In the hallway, while waiting for the elevator, they encountered Oscar Isaac, who was unreasonably perky and awake for that time of day, James decided, especially considering how long his day was going to be.
“McAvoy!” James hope that Oscar wouldn’t bring up anything about the previous night, because he was sure they had been in the elevator together, though he didn’t remember the details.
Oscar seemed oblivious to James’ worries.
“Leaving, huh?” Oscar’s enthusiasm contrasted with Michael and James’ tired faces.
“Yeah,” James answered dryly.
“Hey, Michael, I wanna talk to you about today’s scenes later,” said Oscar, as the three of them entered the elevator. Why did everything about the guy make James so mad? He stared at Oscar while he spoke uncomfortably (for James) intimately to Michael, his hand on Michael’s shoulder, almost whispering in his ear. The elephants, which had been almost silent in James’ head, decided then was a good time to violently attack the inside of his brain. When the doors opened, James squinted a bit at the sudden light of the hotel’s lobby.
“The headache came back?” Michael asked in a low voice, pitched so that only James could hear.
“It never left,” he answered in the same tone.
When Oscar returned, talking about the scenes he and Michael would film that day, James went to check-out of the hotel.
Michael pretended to listen, but paid attention to James’ steps instead, wondering when he would see him again in person. Only when the movie was released, perhaps…
“What do you think?” Oscar finished, after a series of explanations about character motivations that Michael barely followed. Unfortunately, Michael’s evident lack of attention didn’t stop Oscar from speaking.
James finished checking out and was informed by the clerk that a car was waiting for him. He thanked the clerk and went back to Michael and Oscar to say his goodbyes. Nick had come down as well because he would shortly be flying to Los Angeles for a meeting with the producers of the movie “Kill Your Friends”.
“Leaving now, Nick?” James asked, intending to offer him a ride.
Nick turned and smiled at him, shaking his head. “Hey, James! I’m not leaving right now, still got time.” Nick shook James hand and then pulled him into a hug. “I can see you’re feeling better,” he said in a low voice.
“Still got a bloody headache…” James answered under his breath.
“That’s typical…but this might help.” Nick pulled a packet of pills from his pocket and handed them to James: hangover treatment. James smiled, which Michael noticed from a distance
“Dear God, Nick. You read my mind!”
“Oh, thank Michael. He left it with me, in case you and he didn’t meet this morning.”
‘Admirable, again, the bastard!’ James looked inadvertently at Michael and their eyes met.
“Have a nice trip. I wish I was the one going home!” Nick said.
“Same to you, and good luck with the producers!” Nick smiled. Realizing James wanted to say Michael goodbye, Nick called Oscar with the excuse that he wanted to show him some photos from Bryan’s party the night before.
Michael understood what Nick was doing, and commented to James, smiling, “The kid’s surprising me. I think he spent too much time with us.” Michael looked at the pills in James’ hand.
James saw where Michael was looking. “You son of a bitch! I was dying with this headache and you had pills to give me!”
“They weren’t with me anymore. I didn’t intend to talk to you today, remember? I left them with Nick.”
A hotel employee came to tell James his luggage was in the car. He thanked and tipped him. Trying to say goodbye in a way that was appropriate for two friends in public, Michael extended his hand to shake, but James pulled him in for a hug and murmured into his ear.
“Take care of yourself.” He couldn’t hide the emotion in his voice.
“You too…” Michael answered in kind.
James knew he needed to leave immediately. He held Michael’s gaze as long as possible, even as he was moving toward the hotel exit. He left behind a lobby starting to get crowded and in the middle of it, a beautiful and slim man whose face was full of melancholy.