Smoke and Ashes (29 page)

“I stink.”

“You do. Think you can make it to a shower?” He pulled away a little, half turned to face the far side of the soundstage. “Props might still have that wheelchair. I don't think we completely destroyed it.”

“We set it on fire, pushed it down the ramp at a parking garage, and it slammed into a concrete block wall.”

“Still…”

“No.” Deep breath and a surge upright. “I'm fine. I'm just a little stiff.”

“Whip it out and prove it.” Almost under his breath. Almost not loud enough to hear except that his mouth was close enough to the side of Tony's head for the words to brush against his ear.

If he wasn't before, he was now.

He didn't close his eyes, although he wanted to. He wished he knew what Lee was thinking. What Lee'd
been
thinking when he'd been sitting and stroking and waiting for Tony to wake up. Conscious of every point of contact, he said, “Stop screwing around, Lee. Unless you're ready to cross the line, it's not fair.”

The other man flushed and suddenly there were half as many points of contact. “Can't a guy help a friend who's been fried?” he asked, his mouth twisting into an approximation of a smile.

Were they friends? They'd been friendly although they'd never been the “go out for a beer together” kind of friends. Made sense. Beer and subtext was a bad combination. For the sake of getting where he was going, he supposed he could fake friend if that was how Lee wanted to play it.

“Sure. Speaking as the friend who got fried, I'm glad for the help.”

As they shuffled across the soundstage, Tony nodded toward the back wall of Raymond Dark's office. A couple of grips were opening the trap and wrestling the camera through the space where the imitation Turner had been. “What's up?”

Fortunately, Lee'd had enough of innuendo. “Mason's doing the existential moment that leads us to the final episode and all those frigging flashbacks.” He wasn't in the flashbacks, which cut his time in the final episode to the teaser and the tag. There'd already been discussions about an extra feature on the DVD to make up for it. “Mason and existential,” he snorted. “Those are two words I never thought I'd put together.”

“Does Mason even know what existential means?”

“It means it's about Mason. He's happy with that. He's an uncomplicated guy, our Mason.”

Uncomplicated would be nice.
Tony leaned against a Gothic revival pillar as Lee reached for the door.
It'd be a nice fucking change.

Before Lee's fingers closed around the doorknob, it moved. They shuffled back as the door opened, shuffled back a bit farther as Adam came into the soundstage carrying a huge sheet of white foam board.

“So, how's the fallen warrior?” he asked, peering around it at them.

Wizard. But it seemed pointless to protest. “I'm fine,” Tony told him and when Adam snorted, expanded it to, “a little unsteady.”

The 1AD craned his head until he could get a line of sight on Lee. “Don't drop him,” he told the actor as if he was saying,
Don't miss your mark
. “We've got one more episode to shoot and I'd like to have a roof to do it under.” Without waiting for a response, he adjusted his grip and walked away muttering, “Demons want to invade, they can bloody well time it for hiatus like everyone else.”

“He knows…”

“CB did a little explaining when the crew arrived this morning.”

“I don't think…”

“CB thought,” Lee interrupted again, “that the known isn't half as likely to be gossiped about as the unknown. Also, given what some of us have already been through, we deserved better than bullshit.”

“That explains it,” Tony muttered, as they proved that it wasn't entirely impossible for two people to get through the costumes that lined the hall outside the soundstage. Best to just ignore the implication that CB had given Lee permission to be involved in the fight.

“What does?”

“Your sudden attention. We're fighting a kind of a war here, so it's a two guys in the trenches thing.”

“That sounds vaguely pornographic.”

“I meant like in episode fifteen.”

“That
was
vaguely pornographic. Mason's fan mail jumped seventeen percent after the World War I episode.” Maneuvering around the gorilla suits pressed Lee's body tight against his.

Safest to blame the gorillas. It'd keep him from punching Lee in the face. “You know what I mean. Helping a fallen comrade is very butch. Very safe.”

One rack of costumes ended at the door to the women's washroom, opening up enough room for them to stand side by side—face-to-face with a little distance between them. Albeit a very little distance. Tony wanted to mutter,
Take a picture, it'll last longer.
except that would be childish and there was nothing even remotely childlike about the look on Lee's face. For a long moment, he was convinced that Lee was going to kiss him. Right there. Right in front of the women's washroom and the tattered sign about no fucking when the red light was on.

Then the moment passed.

Lee nodded toward the dressing rooms, still half a dozen meters down the hall. “Come on, you need to get cleaned up.”

Maybe it came from facing demons. Maybe he was light-headed from hunger. “Chicken.”

“Fuck off.”

Lee really sounded pissed, but to Tony's surprise, he didn't let go—although his grip on Tony's upper arm tightened until his fingers were digging into flesh. They walked in silence to the door of his dressing room where Tony balked.

“I'm using your shower?”

“You'd rather have Mason walk in on you?”

He was a heartbeat away from saying what he'd rather have. He said nothing as Lee opened the door. Nothing as he walked inside. Nothing as Lee released his arm, stepped back, and asked, “You going to be okay?”

“I'll be fine.”

Well, that was something but not exactly relevant.

He said nothing as Lee tossed him a towel. Said nothing as Lee left.

As he dropped to the end of the couch and bent to fight with his shoes, he muttered, “Who's chicken now?”

At least if they were
both
chickens that was sort of a species step in the right direction. Or possibly he'd moved beyond light-headed to completely fucking insane.

 

Amy was setting a tray of food on the battered coffee table as he stepped out of the tiny en suite, the towel wrapped around his waist. There was no sign of Lee.

And the repressed gay interlude seems to be over; back to business as usual.

“Just so you know, I'm not accepting a supporting role.” Amy stuck a fork upright in the lasagna. “I lied my ass off to the cops last night,” she continued, straightening, “and I demand a spot in the front…Whoa, Tony, those are some interesting scars.”

It took him a moment to realize she meant the crosshatching on his left pec. Most people who saw him with his shirt off didn't mention them.

“Who did this to you?” Henry traced cool circles over the damaged skin.

“If I tell you, what'll you do?”

His smile had been like a knife in the dark. “Make them pay.”

So Tony'd told him. Hell, he was eighteen. Revenge had seemed like a good idea. He still didn't regret it.

Zev had said nothing, merely acknowledged the evidence of old pain with a gentleness that had broken Tony apart. And then acknowledged that by putting him back together again more gently still.
I so didn't deserve him.

“Are they tribal markings?” Amy asked as he rummaged a shirt out of the garbage bag of his clean laundry.

“Sort of.” They were what happened to those who got caught on the wrong turf.

“Cool.”

Not really, no. But Amy was looking at darkness from the outside where it was a lot safer and practically branded. “What the hell are you wearing?”

She pulled the front of her T-shirt out far enough to be able to look down at the picture of a nearly skeletal man climbing out of the bisected body of a rotting bear. “New movie shooting in the park. I scammed it off one of the publicity guys. Werebear!”

“Where castle?” He shimmied jeans up under the towel and let it drop.

“What?”

“Are you kidding me?” When she continued to look blank, he shook his head and dropped down onto the couch. “No one cares about the classics these days.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell it to your next boyfriend. And speaking of, that cutie cop wants to see you on the soundstage when you've eaten; he's taken your spot on the chaise. Lee says you can leave your clothes in here as long as you need to. Zev says try not to get killed before tomorrow sunset because he'd like to say good-bye. Adam wants to know why you can't work since you're in the building anyway. And I'd be kind of pissed about taking messages for you except I'm sucking up in the hope you'll take me demon hunting.”

He muttered a negative around a mouthful of lasagna.

“I can get my hands on some holy water.”

“Wrong kind of demons.”

“There's a right kind of demon?”

“Damned if I know.” He smiled up at her.

“Ew. Mouth closed while eating, pig person.” Wiggling her fingers at him in what may have been a sign against the evil eye although it looked more like she was trying to flick a booger free, Amy backed out the door. “Don't forget the cop on the chaise,” she warned as she closed it behind her.

Sometimes, Tony acknowledged, stuffing another forkload of pasta and cheese into his mouth and this time chewing with his mouth closed, the tricks a guy learned grossing out girls at twelve ended up helping him out for the rest of his life.

 

“Your friend Fitzroy doesn't answer his phone.”

Tony shrugged in Jack's general direction. It had been Henry last night. Now it was Fitzroy again. At least he hadn't shortened it to Fitz—Henry reacted badly to diminutives. “He's probably on deadline.”

“Oh, yeah. Romance writer.” Reclining on the chaise, fingers laced over his stomach, wearing the pale blue dress shirt with the handprint scorched onto it that Mason had worn in episode five, Jack crossed his legs at the ankles. “I don't know many romance writers who can do what he did last night.”

“How many romance writers do you know? And how many of
them
have you seen deal with a demon?”

“Good point. Points.”

He crossed to the chaise, fighting the urge to look up at the gate as he passed under it. Technically, he fought the urge to look up into the lighting grid at the place the gate would be if it was still opening, but that was more complicated than he was up to right now. “Amy said you wanted to see me?” His attempt at not sounding defensive failed miserably.

Jack grinned. “Thought you'd like to know what you missed after you went all Sleeping Beauty on us last night and before Prince Charming showed up this afternoon.”

“Who?” So much for defensive—now, he was just trying not to sound confused.

“Leah sent that actor guy you're so hot for in to watch over you.” The grin broadened in a decidedly shit-disturbing manner. “I suggested he wake you with a kiss. How'd that go? I'm curious,” he added as Tony opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, “because he looked like he was considering it. Good-looking guy if I was interested in guys, which I'm not.”

“Neither is he.”

“Bullshit. I pointed out that the place is being overrun by demons and we could all be dead tomorrow, so he should take the chance.”

“He's st…” Tony couldn't get the word out. Apparently his subconscious would only allow hypocrisy to take him so far. “He's not interested.”

“The hell he isn't. I'm a trained observer…” Jack unlaced his fingers and thumped himself on the chest. “…your tax dollars at work. The girls are either camouflage or he's willing to switch hit.”

“Spare me the lame sports analogy, Dr. Ruth.”

“Shut up, I'm not done. He's decided he wants you, but he's too fucking freaked to take that final step. Can't say as I blame him, him being in the public eye and all.” A thoughtful frown. “Or he would be if anyone actually watched this dumbass show.”

“Hey! We've got the highest numbers of any vampire detective show in syndication.”

“That and a buck seventeen will buy you a bad cup of coffee.” Swinging his feet to the floor, Jack sat up. “So, the story thus far: Your reporter buddy Groves showed up with that page of his. Your romance writer buddy Fitzroy went home and got the rest of the book. Your very hot stuntwoman buddy Leah knows how to read the book, and she's working on the translation. Basically, we're all waiting to find out what the hell is going on. Oh, and your freak buddy, Amy, kind of grows on you. Is she seeing anyone?”