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Summary
The entire casting room held its breath.
Charles kept talking softly, voice laced with concern. "She was a dick to you."
He moved closer. Their thighs were almost touching.
"Well," Max said, his voice rough, "it fucking hurts."
Charles giggled, a breathless, soft, melodic little sound. Max's breath caught. Because suddenly he wasn't acting. Or maybe he hoped Charles wasn’t too. But the smile looked real. The fondness looked real.
"Maxie," Charles said softly. Max loved how it sounded. "A few years from now, you'll never even remember her."
Max looked at him with ache. And prayed to every power in the universe that Charles wasn't acting.
That maybe, just maybe. He was interested too. Then Charles lifted a hand and cupped his cheek.
It wasn't in the script. Max knew it instantly. He had memorised every version of this scene. The scene was supposed to end with an awkward peck on the cheek. He had been kissed by thirty-odd guys today.
But this wasn't there. This was Charles improvising. To make the moment fond. He went along with it.
OR
Alpha Max and Omega Charles audition for a superhero movie as teenagers. And sparks fly, at least from one end.