"Fucking scorcher out, innit?" Josh squinted, looked up into Orlando's smiling, bright eyes. Intense, merciless sunlight beat down on Orlando, framed him in a halo of fire. Fuck, getting bizarre in my old age, Josh thought. Something. "Something like that," he replied, patting the space next to him on top of the Jeep's hood. Orlando took the hint, hopped beside him, faded cotton sliding together as their thighs brushed. Orlando tipped his head out toward Ridley and Ewan, going over the script, heads bent as they studied the tattered pages. "They're always conferring," he stated, still smiling. He reached into the flapped pocket of his BDU jacket, drew out a battered pack of cigarettes. "What do you suppose they're always going on about?" "The script?" Josh's grin was lightning fast, as was his wink. "Oh, sod off." Orlando bumped Josh's shoulder with his own, held out the pack. "Smoke?" "Why yes, I do, thanks." But Josh took the offered cigarettes with another grin, smiling into Orlando's smiling eyes, lit both in silence, handed Orlando's to him. A fine trail of sweat curled down past Orlando's scalp, wound a circuitous path around his neck, disappearing under his collar. A brief vision of sweat and limbs and tangle flashed across Josh's mind was suppressed as soon as it came. He knew better. "So, Ewan seems to like his gift," he commented instead, inhaling smoke and nicotine to keep his voice from shaking. "Yeah?" Orlando sounded pleased; shaded his eyes to glance once again at Ewan. "Things with you are pretty simple, aren't they?" And where the hell had that question come from? Orlando shrugged, the movement elegant. Josh's eyes drifted to tanned forearms, dark hairs covering soft skin. Watched in mute fascination as Orlando brought his cigarette up to his lips soft, decadent lips and took a long drag before speaking. "Yeah, I guess," he said, the words a soft drawl. "Shouldn't they be, though?" "Yeah." Josh nodded, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Tried to ignore his shirt sticky and clammy across his back, his chest ignore the heat. Scorcher of a day, indeed. "Sometimes they're not, though. Simple, I mean." "No, I suppose not." If Orlando found it weird to discuss vague philosophy in the middle of the desert while waiting for a shoot, he made no mention of it. Just shrugged and hunched next to Josh, shoulders and thighs brushing together again. "But I think that sometimes people crave what they don't really want." Josh followed Orlando's squinted gaze back to Ewan. Yeah...yeah. Okay. "Any more wisdom?" he asked whispered tone intimate. "Yeah, actually." And Josh felt the force of dark eyes that saw too much when Orlando turned his head. "You need to learn to relax," Orlando stated, completely serious, body still. "I don't know how." "Yeah...yeah, you do." And just like that, Orlando's grin was back, the smile in his eyes was back. Josh was helpless to do more than answer with a smile of his own.
"I got you something," Orlando said, after a minutea breathless minute of need and want and why the fuck couldn't Josh see of smiling and returned smiles. "Yeah?" Josh sounded surprised, lips curving when he put his cigarette back up to his lips, long fingers holding the end delicately. Strong, tapered hands. Yeah, yeah, Orlando, stop staring. "Well, where is it?" Orlando reached into another pocket the one on his thigh this time drew out a small, felt bag, tossing it to Josh, who caught it effortlessly. "There, impatient bugger," he grinned, just to get that answering grin. Josh sat up, cigarette dangling from his lips as he opened the bag's drawstring. A bag of guitar picks fell into his hand, and he stared down in silence. Orlando waited a long beat, shifted restlessly on hot metal, small chill winding its way up his spine. "Josh...you alright, mate?" "Hmm?" Josh's head snapped up looked a bit lost for a second. Far away. "Oh, right, sorry." He held up the bag, eyes alight with...something. Orlando couldn't place it but the chill turned into a shiver. "Thanks," Josh said, hand curling around the picks. "Who told you?" "What, that you played? No one," Orlando shrugged, rubbing the back of his sweaty neck with a hand. "Just paid attention, I guess." "Yeah." Josh's gaze penetrated for another second before he dropped it, calloused thumb rubbing along the plastic wrapping in tiny movements. Orlando's throat went completely dry. They sat in silence for awhile, finished their cigarettes, passed a canteen of water back and forth. Orlando watched through lowered lashes whenever Josh tilted the canteen back, throat working, Adam's apple bobbing as he drank, sun-kissed skin stretched tight over bone and muscle. Should be illegal, he thought. All of it the whole package. "Fuck, but I think I'm going to melt." Orlando licked his dry lips when Josh used a faded handkerchief to wipe the worst of the sweat off of his forehead. "Yeah," he muttered, unaware that his voice was a low purr. "Me too." Josh turned his head...and the heavy air throbbed with tension. Orlando swallowed past the dry lump in his throat, couldn't look away, didn't want to. Would be happy to spend an eternity just like this with baby-soft eyes on him, bare forearm pressed against his, thighs comfortably sharing the same space. Josh leaned in, breath fluttering against Orlando's cheek, and Orlando could practically taste the sharp sting of smoke. "Can you teach me simple?" Josh whispered, each word soft against Orlando's skin, branding it. Orlando's only response was a muted groan.
Ewan threw his butt on the sand, heel crushing it, dousing the embers. Fuck, but he hated the hell-fucked heat. Too much of it. He'd kill for a cold shower and a pint, but knew that was at least six or seven hours away. He nodded his thanks at Ridley, who stepped aside to talk with the cameraman Rob, maybe?...he sucked with names and gazed around the shoot. Sand, sand, more sand, props, military paraphernalia, tents, more sand. And...oh, well. Now wasn't that just fascinating? "Didn't know you and Josh were through," Eric commented, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he nodded across the compound. Fucker moved like a cat. Ewan hadn't even seen him walk up. "I didn't, either" he replied, gaze still riveted to the Jeep. And the two men pressed together on it...foreheads touching, fingers brushing together. The intimacy was so thick Ewan was a bit embarrassed to be looking. Felt like a voyeur. Didn't stop him from looking anyway. "But it's about time, don't you think?" Ewan looked up at Eric, who nodded, pushed his shades back up further on his nose. "Well beyond time, I'd say. You've done your good deed." Ewan's laughter was bright, clean, amused. "Fuck me...'good dead'," he gasped, clapping a friendly hand on Eric's shoulder. "There was nothing altruistic in it, trust me." "With lips like that, I'm not surprised." "You don't know the half of it." "Doesn't look like I will now, from the looks of things." Ewan shrugged, scuffed his boots in the fine sand. "No, probably not," he said, looking back at Josh and Orlando again, who were now laughing over something and their combined laughter was beautiful to hear. Deep and free and uncomplicated. "There are worse things," Eric stated, arms stretched above his head as he lazily popped his back. "Suppose I'll just have to look elsewhere." Ewan's answering grin was sly. And the light fingers trailing across Eric's olive-clad stomach were a promise. "Maybe you won't have to look at all." Eric's wink was pure sin. "Maybe not."
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