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“So,” Pond’s head turned towards him, knees spreading slightly to get comfortable in his seat, “what’s Heated Rivalry about?”
Phuwin’s thumb paused in the middle of scrolling through the official twitter page of one of the brands he sponsored for. His mind circled around the question, coy. “It’s uhm-“ he nodded in Pond’s direction with a chin without looking up, “about hockey.”
“Oh, a sports show?” Pond hummed thoughtfully, “And it’s very famous in America?”
Phuwin engaged him despite his better judgement, “It’s not about the sports, hockey. It’s a- more of a romance, you see.”
There was a brief, thoughtful silence as Pond seemed to mull over something, before casually asking, “Do we ever wanna do a sports romance?” But before Phuwin could answer, he placed his phone under Phuwin’s nose where two men were rather aggressively going at it, “And what is this? Part of hockey?”
Phuwin stared at the looping clip for a second longer than necessary, perhaps because the sound was muted and made the rapid movements more compelling, easier to digest, almost hypnotizing. “No.” He swept his eyes over Pond’s relaxed shoulders, reclined towards him, “This is part of the romance.”
“Why,” Pond pocketed his phone, “would you call it a show about hockey, I wonder?”
“It’s only a single clip from the show,” Phuwin answered, affecting sweetness in his voice. Pond’s eyes darted over his face with an intelligence that was easy to miss if one wasn’t looking for it. “It’s a sex scene, different from a love scene. The American variant is more explicit, less … flowery. The romance isn’t what we’re used to so in my mind, it’s primarily,” he stopped here, to stress that last word, “about hockey.”
“Flowery,” Pond’s tone rose at the end, like a question half-formed. “You have some interesting ideas about love scenes that you’ve never shared with me, Phuwin.”
Phuwin spun his head towards his own phone, trying to ignore the faint impressions of the recently watched sex scene form a curtain at the back of his eyeballs, “It’s not something we’ve discussed before.”
“No, we have.” Pond sighed, and tugged Phuwin’s chair to face his with one hand, “Look at me.”
Phuwin managed not to fall, less because he was afraid of hurting himself and more because he knew Pond’s ridiculous large arms will be there to scoop him up like a baby before he could make impact with the floor. He had some complicated feelings about Pond’s arms but it was also totally fine and not at all weird. He’d argue against anyone who disagreed.
He looked up obediently with a moody exhale. It was like he was seventeen-years-old again. “Your fans don’t know how you are, Naravit.”
“Hey, that better be a compliment.” But he was grinning, the bastard; he’d probably known Phuwin would try to deflect him about that American show, and it’d all probably been a masterminded trap that Phuwin’d so easily fallen into. Then, pouting, he said, “I just want to talk to you. If you don’t want to…”
Phuwin closed his eyes briefly, for strength, or for pretending he couldn’t see the farce from a mile away, or the consequences of entertaining Pond when he got like this, “Alright, fine, fine. What … what’s up.”
“Do you wanna do a sex scene with me?”
Phuwin blinked, “Wow. You’re one bold motherfuck—”
Pond put a finger to his lips, a twinkle in his eyes that made Phuwin feel the tickles everywhere down his stomach, “Just answer the question.”
“Y-yes?” He cleared his throat, swatting at Pond’s wrist lightly, “You already—you know, don’t you?”
Pond’s brown eyes opened wider, breaking away from the playfulness for a brief second at Phuwin’s probing, “Oh, yeah, of course, Phu. This isn’t about that.” It vanished as swiftly as it’d come, “I just want to know if you wanna do the flowery one or—”
“That’s not up to me.” He leaned in, tapped Pond on one cheek, “Wake up, Khun Pond. We’re not American actors. If you want me to get on all fours for you naked under the blanket, you’ll have to work harder than that.”
Satisfied, Phuwin sat back, catching up on all the work his sponsor had piled on him in the last three hours. There was a cowed silence in the room, and then Pond, almost too low to hear, muttered, “And I’m the bold motherfucker?”
Phuwin grinned shamelessly at his screen.