Mostly, though, Karl thought he was way too old to be a sidekick, even to someone like Chris. (Every time he said this to Chris, Chris helpfully pointed out that, like McCoy and Kirk, Dr. John Watson was, in fact, older than Sherlock Holmes, so it was possible to be older and be a really bitchin' sidekick. Karl always replied that might be true, but Chris was far too short and muscular and blond to be the Sherlock in this scenario, and wasn't nearly logical enough. Not that logic ever stopped Chris once he got an idea in his head.) Today, no less than five people popped in and out of the trailer while Chris and Karl were getting out of costume and makeup to see if there was anything Chris needed for the party he was throwing at his house, whether the neighborhood was permit parking only, what time they should be there, and so on and so on, like all of the pertinent information wasn't already in the invite Chris had emailed everyone last week. Karl tuned out all the noise for the most part. He had a hot date with room service and a bottle of wine waiting for him back at his hotel, and he was looking forward to the peace and quiet. It wasn't like he'd be missed if he didn't show up to the party. Well, Simon might miss him, but Simon also had John to geek with if he needed the company. Chris stopped on his way out the door, winding his ever-present scarf around his neck like they were filming in Chicago instead of Los Angeles. (Personally, Karl thought Chris had watched the BBC version of "Sherlock" one too many times and was trying much too hard to emulate Sherlock's style, but he kept his opinion to himself. Bad enough that Chris referred to him as Watson all the time.) "Hey, dude, you're coming by, right?" Karl shrugged into his own jacket, and pretended to ponder the question. "Nah, hadn't planned on it. I mean, it's not really my scene." "Scene? What the hell are you talking about?" Chris' brows furrowed in obvious confusion. Chris' eyebrows deserved their own billing, they were so expressive. "It's a gathering at my house, Watson, come on. You're coming. I won't take no for an answer." It was just like Chris to be stubborn about this and decide that attendance was mandatory. Karl knew better than to argue. No one won against Chris once he'd made up his mind about something. "You sure you want some old geezer around?" Chris rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated huff. "Whatever, you're not old, not even close. Besides, Bruce and Eric'll be there, and they're older than you." "Bruce and Eric are coming?" Karl perked up. If they were around, it might not be so bad. He and Eric got along alright, and Bruce could be counted on for at least one politically incorrect, yet hilarious, story. "Of course." Something odd flickered across Chris' face for a brief moment, but disappeared when he gave Karl a wicked grin. "And if you're lucky, maybe I'll even hook you up with them. I'm an excellent matchmaker." Frankly, the thought was terrifying. Karl tried to keep his fear from his voice, however. Chris could probably sense it from a meter off (he wouldn't put much past Chris and his powers of observation.) "Thanks, but I prefer to find my own dates." "Good to know. So, I'll see you tonight, 8ish. Bring beer!" Chris called, as the door slammed behind him. Karl shook his head and smiled. Like a true actor, Chris knew how to make an exit, he thought, and made a mental note to pick up a couple of six packs. *** Dance music of some indeterminate type was blaring from Chris' house when Karl walked up the steps to the front door, carrying a case of Sam Adams under one arm. He didn't bother to knock who the hell would hear it above all that noise? before he let himself in. There were people everywhere, looking relaxed and happy as they munched on small plates of nachos and sipped on bottles of beer. It looked like Chris had invited the entire cast and crew, and everyone had shown up. Then again, Chris had probably threatened anyone who dared to try to turn him down. "KARL!! You made it!" Chris was weaving his way through the crowd towards Karl and sporting a huge grin, like it had been years instead of hours since they'd seen each other. Once he got close enough, Chris wrapped a friendly arm around Karl's shoulders, and started to steer him into the room. "So, Watson, I see you brought beer." "Hardly a brilliant deduction, considering I'm lugging a case in my arms." Chris nudged him a little. "You could try playing along and call me Sherlock, you know. Just once." "Only if you wear the hat and start smoking a pipe." "For you, I can playact," Chris nodded, with a lecherously affable leer. Zoe and Simon waved hello as they walked past, and Karl saw Bruce and Zach's brother (he always forgot the bloke's name) on the sofa, making out like horny teenagers. Bruce looked to be firmly in control of the kiss, and, judging by the noises Zach's brother was making, he didn't seem to mind too much. "They made a beeline for each other the second they showed up," Chris told him, leaning in close so he could be heard over the music. "I've been threatening to film it and put in on Twitter." "You don't have a Twitter account," Karl pointed out. "Simon could upload it, then." "It does seem like something he'd do." "Yeah, but we figured Bruce would just brag about it. I mean, what's the point of embarrassing your friends if they're not actually ashamed?" Chris said it like he was disappointed in Bruce's lack of chagrin. The kitchen was marginally less loud, but no less crowded. When Karl lifted the case in wordless question, Chris pointed to a huge tin tub full of ice in the corner. After Karl emptied the beer into the ice, he passed Chris a bottle before taking one himself. He had a feeling he'd need the alcohol to deal with the rest of the night, especially if he had to witness more of his friends in publicly compromising positions. "Thanks," Chris grinned, clinking his bottle to Karl's in a toast. They drank in silence for a few moments, before Chris made a pained face. "Dude, seriously!!! What the fuck? Who put on the autotune bullshit?" Karl had no idea what Chris was talking about, but he assumed, from Chris' expression, it wasn't good. "Isn't this your party? Shouldn't you know what song it is?" "Yeah, but I didn't pick the music. I'm the host, not the DJ." He stopped Anton, who was in the process of taking sour cream out of the fridge (presumably for his nachos, but, knowing Anton, it was best not to ask.) "Hey, is this Katy Perry or Ke$ha?" "No clue, man," Anton shrugged, "I get 'em mixed up all the time." "Not hard to do," Chris commiserated. "I don't know who either of them are," Karl admitted, feeling like he should somehow be ashamed of that fact. He felt that way a lot when Chris spoke. "I think the only thing you need to know is that Katy Perry's got a fuckin' rockin' rack and Ke$ha looks like she enjoys getting passed around at parties," Anton told him, with a pat to Karl's back. "Sounds charming," Karl commented. He was suddenly thankful his pop culture cred wasn't up to speed. "To each his own, man," Chris stated, raising his beer in salute before draining the bottle, "I don't judge." "Zen of you." "I'm a Zen kinda guy," Chris grinned. Anton gave him a thumbs up. "A regular Buddha, that's you," he announced, as he wandered towards the living room, sour cream in tow. (Karl really, really didn't want to know.) "I could live with being Buddha," Chris stated, then cocked his head towards the back door. "Hey, c'mon, I wanna show you something." "Does it involve your etchings?" Karl asked warily. After the incident with the silly putty, Karl thought he was justified in his reticence in being alone with Chris. "Nah, dude, that's way too old school," Chris chuckled. "If I wanted you in my bedroom, I'd just ask. Or, y'know, strip in front of you or challenge you to a naked Jell-O wrestling match or something." "Naked Jell-O wrestling? Your parties are a helluva lot more interesting than mine." "I try my best to show everyone a good time. Now, come on." He nudged Karl with his elbow until Karl reluctantly followed Chris out to the back patio. "Where're we headed?" Karl asked, glancing around. The houses around them were quiet, shaded by trees. It seemed like an oasis of suburbia, even though Karl knew they were in the middle of L.A. "Just up the road. Don't worry, I won't let you get lost and I promise to you have you home before dark." "It's already dark." "Before dawn, then. Picky, picky. I mean, we wouldn't want you to burst into flames or evaporate or whatever it is vampires do in the sun." "I only play a vampire onscreen," Karl chuckled. "It's okay if you keep me out past daylight." Chris rubbed his hands in classic B-movie villain fashion. "Eeeeeexcellent." Karl took a deep breath as he followed Chris. The air smelled like freesia and freshly cut grass like summer and lazy days spent hanging out and doing as little as possible. Karl felt a momentary pang of nostalgia for his long-ago youth, but suppressed it. This wasn't a night for melancholy or self-pity about all he had yet to do and all the chances he never took. Even if Chris did have a funny way of making him feel his age then again, it was hard not to feel old in the face of Chris' considerable enthusiasm for life. In an effort to distract himself from his thoughts, he studied Chris' profile. Chris might have been trying to joke about the Zen thing, but Karl had yet to meet anyone (except maybe Viggo Mortensen) that radiated as much inner calm as Chris. Just being around him was like the equivalent of doing deep meditation. It was a weird dichotomy. One would think that someone with as much energy to burn as Chris would be wired on the inside, but he was as serene as it got under the surface. "You're staring," Chris said, without looking in Karl's direction. "You mind?" Chris' grin was quick and dirty. "Depends on why you're staring. If you're picturing me naked, go for it." "Sorry to disappoint you." "Can't get everything I want, I guess," Chris mock-sighed, then stopped at the shoulder of the road and turned, spreading his arms out wide. "We're here. Cool huh?" Karl also turned, then pulled up short at the view just beyond the small copse of trees. "Wow." The city laid spread beneath them like a glittering array of lights. Karl felt a little like a god surveying his domain. "This is beautiful." "Yeah, pretty cool, huh? I discovered this by accident one night, just walking around." "Thanks for showing me." Chris shuffled closer, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Had to do something to stand out." "Stand out from what?" Chris gave him a disbelieving look. "Seriously?" "Seriously...what?" Karl asked, feeling a little lost. "Uh, seriously, I thought I was being fairly obvious, seriously." "About?" Karl was beginning to think that he'd been dropped into the middle of a scene without any context or direction. "Dude, everyone on set knew. Knows." "Knows what?" "At the risk of being clichιd, it's elementary, my dear Watson." Chris let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I've had, like, a massive thing for you since day one of the first film." There was no way Karl heard that correctly. "Wait, really?" "Yeah, really. I guess I should have paraded around the trailer more naked." "I might've figured it out sooner if you had." Karl wasn't quite sure what to think. But Chris looked sober enough, so he was pretty sure it wasn't a prank. (Eric was more the sort to pull pranks like this, anyway. Karl had heard all of the stories about Eric from a few friends who'd worked with him in the past.) Chris made a pained face. "Too much information? You're all freaked out now and want to take out a restraining order? Might be weird, since we're sharing a trailer, but I could bunk with John, I guess." Karl shook his head, mostly to stem the tide of Chris' words. "No, no, I'm fine. Just...surprised. But not in a bad way." "I guess that's something." "But, uh..." Payback was fair, Karl decided, as he gave Chris a sly look, "Didn't you just say that if you were interested, you'd challenge me in a naked Jell-O wrestling contest?" Chris immediately perked up. "You want to? I mean, I don't actually have any Jell-O at my place, but I'd totally be up for going to Ralph's or Von's or something to get some. Do you have a preference on flavor? I'm a lime guy myself, but I could be up for " Karl put two fingers against Chris' lips to silence him. "I mean this in the best possible way, but shut up." Chris gulped, then nodded against Karl's fingers. "I can do that," he breathed. Karl dropped his hand, ignoring Chris' apparent look of disappointment. "I don't really want to wrestle with you in Jell-O." "Oh. Well, uh, okay. Disappointing, but I can live with it " " But that doesn't mean that I don't want to wrestle with you at all, if you follow the really obvious euphemism," Karl finished, lifting his eyebrow. Chris' grin was a little like watching the sun rise over the horizon bright and dazzling and a little blinding, but in the best way. "If by obvious euphemism, you mean you want to have sex with me, then I'm all for it." This had to be the oddest conversation Karl could ever remember having. But he also couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun. (Which probably was sad and pathetic, but he was fine with the sad and pathetic state of his life.) "I don't put out on the first date, just so we're clear." "Does this count as our first date?" Chris asked, hopefully. "No." "I knew you'd be picky about it. Okay, then, how about tomorrow night, I'll take you to dinner. Someplace with real napkins and china plates and wine served in glasses, not plastic cups." "Sounds classy. You sure you're up for it?" "Hey, I'm a classy guy, ask anyone." He nudged Karl's shoulder as they turned to go back down the road. "Can I at least hold your hand until we get to the house?" "Aren't you a romantic," Karl laughed, but obligingly slid his palm over Chris' and curled their fingers together. It was a surprisingly nice fit. "Hey, if roses and sonnets are your thing, I can totally rock the hell out of some Byron or Shakespeare or Keats and bring you bouquets." "Maybe on the second date. Wouldn't do to come on too strong this soon." "Good point," Chris grinned, and squeezed his hand briefly. "But you realize this totally means you're my for real sidekick now, right?" "Only if you wear the coat and hat, Mr. Holmes," Karl smiled, then laughed outright at Chris' pleased look of surprise. "I'll con a coat out of costuming tomorrow, I promise. I'm sure they've got to have one lying around the Paramount Studios, right? I mean, it's Sherlock Holmes, there've been a million films and shit about him, so you'd think..." Chris' voice became a pleasant lull, and Karl was content to let the sound of it wash over him as they continued to amble down the street. And if Karl noticed that Chris didn't seem to be in any hurry to get back to his own party, well, Karl wasn't going to mention it. Or complain. After all, some observations really were elementary.
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