Tag: Bleary!verse

Six Sentence Sunday

From Cleaving:

“I just really hate Skype.”

Wait, what?  “What?”

“Skype.  I hate it.  After filming all day and finally getting some food and a shower, I hate seeing myself all green and from a strange angle looking literally ill in the corner of my laptop screen.  I always end up shifting around, trying to hold myself differently to make myself passable for… whoever I’m filming this for.”

“But we don’t care what you look like.  We just want to see you.”

“I know, I know, and I like seeing you guys, but after long filming
days, when I’m thinking literally for 14-16 hours about how my gait and
posture and expression are being captured by the camera, it’s just really
hard to turn it off.  And there’s no way for me to not look green and
tired and ill in that little camera in the laptop.  You still look good
green, maybe because I’m used to thinking you look hot as Spock, but I
really don’t.”

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

I started the next chapter…finally.

“What’s this?” Chris asked, frowning at the phone.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been asking myself these last two weeks.”

Chris’ brow furrowed as he looked at Zach and then reached for the phone, hunching a little as took it and pulled it pulled it toward his face.  Zach watched as Chris dragged his fingers apart against the screen, zooming in.  And whatever spectrum of reactions Zach had prepared himself for — defensiveness, anger, guilt, pleading — this confused, pondering silence wasn’t among them.

“It’s me and Gal.”  It was almost a question, the way Chris’ voice lilted up at the end.  Almost, but not quite.

“I’d gotten that far on my own, actually.”

Chris looked up, seemingly surprised at the acid in Zach’s voice.  After a moment he ducked his head to study the photo again, zooming back out and examining the surroundings. Because somehow that was more important than the fucking kiss.

Zach took a deep breath and tried to reign in his emotions.  Sarcasm wasn’t going to help in this conversation, but Zach felt raw and nearly as exhausted as Chris still looked, and if Chris was playing innocent with him—

“This isn’t our set, though,” Chris added as if he were trying to think it through… as if he couldn’t place the memory of kissing someone else.

“You’re not shooting,” Zach said, his voice cracking less than he’d expected.  “There are no lights.  No cameras.”  Just action.  

Chapter four fucking KILLED ME! I loooooooved it! I think it might be my favorite bleary verse chapter ever?? You’re awesome! I love Zach in it so much! And chris! All of it, everything. Gah! I’m incoherent with glee

Wow, that’s awesome!  I definitely held onto it too long, because by the end I couldn’t tell if it was working well or not.  So glad to hear you enjoyed it (if having something kill you can properly be described as “enjoyment”).  I for one am really looking forward to writing the next scene.

     First lines:

     “What’s this?” Chris asked.

     “That’s the very question I’ve been asking myself for the last few weeks.”

Thanks so much for reading and letting me know what you thought!

Six Sentence Sunday

If I can ever stop tweaking with this chapter of Cleaving, you’ll see it on AO3 soon…

“This one’s for you,” Zach told Chris as he delivered the last round of gifts.  

Chris shook the narrow, blue box, raising his eyebrows when he felt how light it was.  He tore at the paper and lifted the lid to uncover two tickets.

“Grey Gardens is coming back to L.A.?” His smile was everything Zach could have hoped for.

“I know you missed it when it was on Broadway, and we were both shooting Trek when it came through the first time.  I’ve read reviews; this cast is supposed to be as good as the original.  The date…” Chris’ face fell as he looked at the tickets more closely.  “I had to guess on the date.  I know your film schedule is still fluid, so if this isn’t going to work, I can exchange them once for free to any other date during the run.  Or I can return them for credit if you’re going to be out of town the whole run.”  He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice, but the look on Chris’ face made it clear that the date wasn’t going to work.  This had been a stupid idea.  He knew Chris’ schedule was completely impacted, but that particular weekend wasn’t spoken for yet — at least in the electronic calendar they shared — and he’d wanted something firm for a gift.  Something to look forward to.

His mom was looking back and forth at them, and Nathan was collapsing on the sofa again and turning so that his feet were high along the back, which he knew there were rules against, but no one seemed to have the heart to enforce them at the moment.  The Christmas music suddenly felt oppressively cheerful.

“I’ll try, Zach.  They’re starting to schedule the sound-stage work, and that’s in England, too.  But I’ll try to keep this free.  If I have any say, I’ll keep it free and be in town.”

“It’s fine,” Zach said, scanning the floor for a distraction.  “Whatever happens. We’ll roll with it.  I certainly understand how crazy film schedules can be.”  And he did.  He really did.  This wasn’t Chris’ fault.  He grabbed the package next to him.  “This one for me?”

Chris nodded, though he still looked worried.  Or guilty.  Or
something that had no place on Christmas day.  Zach forced a smile and
tore into the package.

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

From Cleaving…

Zach felt almost boneless as his mind drifted in the afterglow, not really focusing on anything until he nearly fell asleep surrounded by warmth and bliss and the smell of sweat and sex.  Abruptly, the thought of Nathan waking them excitedly on Christmas morning and finding them naked and glued together with dried come intruded.  Zach groaned.

“What?” Chris mumbled sleepily.

“We have to get cleaned up and dressed again before we fall asleep.”  There was no need to spell out the consequences; he felt the rumble of Chris’ resigned grunt and raised himself reluctantly.  There was an impressive amount of come stuck to both of them, and Chris started laughing at what must have been a grimace on his face.

“You know, for someone who loves to see my chest covered in spunk, you are particularly intolerant of it on your own.”

“It sticks to my chest hair,” Zach huffed.  

“So you’ve said.”  Chris’ voice was laced with amusement and affection.  Zach rolled his eyes and carefully reached over to the nightstand drawer, pulling out the travel packet of baby wipes.  One of the perks of being parents was discovering the multitudes of off-label uses for these handy little soft wipes, more-effective-post-sex-clean-up-without-leaving-bed being Zach’s favorite.  They made quick work of it, Chris helping where Zach missed a spot on what he called Zach’s “hairy heart,” though Zach had always thought that patch of hair looked more like the bat-signal than anything as romantic as a heart.  They put their Grinch t-shirts back on and found their sleep pants in a wad under the bed, making sure that everything was put away and mother- and toddler-presentable before tangling back under the blankets.