Because, see, broken bones and pulled muscles and torn ligaments? Those'll heal. Broken hearts, on the other hand, pretty much stay broken forever until the next time you let down your guard enough to fall in love and start the whole stupid process all over again, ad naseum until you die, bitter and alone and cursing the Fates that led you down this dark and dangerous path. And Chris might be a simple bloke at heart, but he's not stupid. So, yeah, he has these rules. 1) No on-set flings. (Which, by the fucking way, is harder than it sounds, because Chris is surrounded by a lot of really pretty people on set, both actors and crew, and while he might not be stupid, he is only human, and a healthy young man, and he might maybe regret this rule sometimes. But not enough to break it.) 2) Pay no attention to on-set gossip. (Also harder than it sounds, because every single person from the director to the grip? Are worse than old biddies when it comes to talking about other people, no fucking about. It's sort of inevitable, really, because sets are boring as fuck during the down-time. There's not a lot to do besides read or commune with the iPod or play chess or gossip. And as transient as most actors and crew are, they work with a lot of people. Ergo, they know a lot of stories. Most of them completely unflattering.) There used to be a 3), but Chris has gotten rid of it because it had been really impractical, and no, he doesn't like to think about it. There's a reason he doesn't follow it anymore, and it's none of anyone's business why not. Anyway, those are his rules. There may not be many of them, but they're pretty ironclad. Until he gets the gig as George Kirk. *** Chris blames Pine for everything. (Yes, he refers to Chris Pine by his last name, because he refers to everyone else named Chris by their last name, because otherwise it's just confusing as shit, and Chris has enough problems without getting confused by his own damn name. It's just a thing, alright. Deal. He doesn't judge anyone else for their little idiosyncrasies.) Anyway, back to the point. The point is, it's all Pine's fault. Chris pretty much thinks that Pine is possibly the cause of all things – well, if the things in question are illegal, immoral, and/or slightly crazy, or liable to get everyone killed in a rather James Dean-like fashion. Pine could fully well be an honorary Aussie, and that's both the highest and scariest compliment Chris can think of. Pine's also a little too much like his character. Well, maybe not so much with the delinquent part and the trashing bars part and, fine, the getting into dust ups with other blokes part. But definitely in the smartass department part and the getting other people to do ridiculous things just because he knows how to bat those baby blues part and in the doing reckless shit just for the fun of it part. Which is why everything that happens from the day Chris shows up on set (being the last person cast) until the day – well, until the day that, y'know, look, he's not giving away what happens that day, because that is sort of the point of the whole thing – but anyway, it's all Pine's fault. Especially the paper airplanes. But that's not where the story starts. As a matter of fact, the paper airplanes are another story altogether. And Zach's story at that, and Chris is totally not into stealing another man's thunder. Especially from a dude as scary smart as Zach, because he's got patience. And everyone knows it's the dudes with patience that have the best revenge. *** Part of the reason for Rule Number One is that Chris has learned early on in his career not to trust his co-stars. Actors are, after all, professional liars. And magpies. And degenerates. (He means that in the best way possible, of course, especially if there are any casting directors nearby.) And who'd want to have a fling with a professional liar who likes the next new shiny thing and doesn't care who they have to screw over to get it? Seems safe enough to keep to Rule Number One. Which really is where the story starts, because JJ is filming one of the Enterprise bridge scenes the day Chris first shows up on set to get a feel for how everything's coming along and to watch Pine work. Chris may be one of those self-same professionally lying magpies, but he is pretty serious about his craft, thank you very much, and he thinks there should be some continuity for how George acts and how James acts, considering they're, y'know, related and all. And, Chris wants to introduce himself to everyone else all at once to get it out of the way. Because the first day on the set of a movie when you're the last person cast is a bit like stepping into a new classroom in the middle of a school year. Everyone's already created rules and relationships and a shorthand of inside jokes, and unless you establish yourself right off the bat, it's easy to get left behind. He has to admit, the Enterprise bridge set is easily the most impressive thing he's ever seen. And he's not even a Trekkie. Trekker. Whatever they're called. But he thinks he could very well become one in a hurry. JJ just smiles at Chris' dumbfounded expression, and welcomes him to the team, then calls everyone away from the craft services table to introduce him. (Surprisingly enough, it works. Chris thinks it's because JJ's the director, not because everyone else is all dying to meet him or anything. One thing actors love more than themselves is free food. Okay, maybe not more than, but it's pretty close.) Pine is the first person to introduce himself, with a wide smile that Chris immediately distrusts, and starts calling him Dad right off the bat, even though Chris is pretty sure that Pine is older than he is by a good two or three years. But he goes along with it, because he's an easy-going sort like that, and it means he gets to refer to Pine as son, which sort of makes up for a lot. Simon hugs him like they're comrades or brothers or something (later, he says it's because he'd been looking forward to someone who could drink with him, because the pansy Americans couldn't hold their alcohol for shite, honestly, and they water down all of their drinks here in America, which is just criminal, and, by the way, don't play pool with Zach, because he'll beat the pants off of you, literally, and don't ask me how I know this.) Anton fistbumps him in greeting and Bruce shakes his hand in that firm, no nonsense way that makes Chris instantly like him, and Zach gives him the Live Long And Prosper salute (he later on finds out it's because Zach is still trying to perfect it). John gives him the whaddup nod, which he returns, and Zoe also gives him a full-bodied welcome hug (his job is so hard sometimes). And then there's Karl. Who just grins at him. You know the one. With the twinkling, bright eyes and perfectly white teeth and these amazing dimples perfectly framing a stupendously gorgeous mouth. Just seeing it sort of jumbles Chris' brain until it resembles an egg scramble. It may or may not take Chris a few moments to find his voice (and, more importantly, his wits.) And, by the time he does, Pine is already smirking at him, and clapping him on the back. "Add another one to the harem, Karl." Harem? Chris blinks in confusion. Karl just sort of sheepishly shrugs and ducks his head, half-hiding the smile, dark hair falling in a perfect arc across his forehead. Chris's heart jumps a few beats at the sight. See, it's totally all Pine's fault. *** "I wonder if I offer to suck Karl off if I can get him to autograph my Eomer helmet," Pine muses a few days later. They're all (well, Pine and John and Simon and Bruce and Anton – Karl and Zach are running lines on the other side of the room) crowded around the beverage table, shivering under their coats. It's got to be minus 20 on set today. Chris doesn't really drink coffee or soda, but there's a pretty decent selection of tea as well, and well, even though he doesn't like tea, either – what is he, British? – his hands are cold as shit and the mug is really warm and the tea smells better than the coffee. (It's a thing, alright. Shut it.) "Dude, you seriously have an Eomer helmet?" John asks, with a very impressive eyebrow lift. Chris wonders if he practices in the mirror. "Oh yeah," Pine nods, with a very seriously solemn expression that may or may not mean he's fucking with everyone. It's hard to tell with Pine. "Right by my bedside." Simon chuckles. "And you lot call me a geek." "You're, like, the king of the geeks," John says, patting Simon's shoulder. "So, Chris, you gonna ask to suck his cock? I mean, since you're his biggest fangirl and all?" "If he doesn't, I'll volunteer myself for science," Anton states. John just groans. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." "Yeah, are you even old enough for fellatio yet?" Pine grins. Anton jerks his thumb at Bruce with a smirk. "Ask him." "He's old enough," Bruce states, and that pretty much settles the matter. (Bruce is sort of like the de facto father figure, except in a really hot, and not creepy, way. Most of the cast has a total guy crush on him, except for Zoe, who just has a regular crush on him, on account of, y'know, being a girl, and Anton, who's sleeping with Bruce – talk about May-December – and that pretty much takes him out of the crush equation.) "Anyway, back to Karl," Pine says, clapping Chris on the back in a far-too-jovial manner, like he knows something Chris doesn't. (Which he probably does. Chris doesn't pay attention to on-set gossip, remember. He doesn't.) "If you want the real goods on him, talk to Eric." "I don't want the goods on Karl," Chris says. And he really doesn't. Karl may be one perfect specimen of supernova hot, but he's a) a co-star and b) totally out of Chris' league. If he had a league. Which he doesn't. Karl's the sort of hot that belongs with a babe like Zoe. (In fact – not that he'll ever admit it out loud, but Chris sort of has this daydream thing – okay, fine, a wank fantasy – about imaging Karl fucking Zoe up against a wall while he watches. It's pretty foolproof on getting him off.) Pine continues like Chris hasn't just spoken. Pine is good at ignoring people. Which is also like his character. "You need to talk to Eric because Eric, see, has worked with people who've worked with him. And, apparently, our Bones-y has quite the reputation." "Reputation?" Chris finds himself asking, then inwardly kicks himself. Hard. And on the ass. "Oh, yeah, I've heard a few stories meself," Simon adds. "He's a naughty one." Simon says it like a compliment. "Perverted is the word I heard," Pine says. "Perverted?" Chris can't help thinking he's starting to resemble a parrot. And he fucking well hates parrots. Freaky birds. "Goes through cast members like cheap vodka," Simon says. "So the story goes." "How does that even make sense?" John asks. "With a burning throat and a deep desire to get drunk as fast as possible?" Anton offers. Bruce cuffs Anton affectionately against the back of the head. "Behave." Anton just bats his lashes at Bruce. "But you love it when I don't." "I'm really going to pretend I didn't hear that one." Anton grins at John. "Prude." "Slut." "You say the sweetest things." It's pretty much a free-for-all after that until everyone (except Chris and Bruce, who aren't in the next scene) is called away. It's not until much later that Chris realizes he's eyeing Karl just a little bit differently. He really hates Pine sometimes. *** "That's a great-looking board." Chris lets out a small (but totally not girlish at all) scream and clutches his magazine to his chest. For protection, really. Hey, he saw The Bourne Supremacy, he knows how deadly a magazine can be in the right hands. Karl is standing in front of him, all decked out in his Starfleet cadet reds, but the open, mischievous grin is all his. Chris doesn't think Bones would know mischievous if it walloped him upside the head. (He totally doesn't think about how hot and mysterious and deadly Karl had been in The Bourne Supremacy, either, because he really doesn't want Karl to figure it out and use the magazine against him – yes, he knows it was Bourne doing the magazine wielding in the movie, but that doesn't mean that Karl wasn't trained in the deadly art. Karl totally seems the type. Probably explains Karl's exceptional build. Which he's also not thinking about. Mostly because his jeans are very unforgiving in the crotch area.) "You scared the shit out of me," he whines (oh God, he's totally whining, too, he can hear it), when his heart rate slows to something resembling normal. "I did clear my throat. Several times," Karl adds helpfully. He also smiles. Which doesn't help at all, especially with Chris' heart rate. Damn those dimples. "Uh huh." It's about all he can manage. "Anyway, that's a nice board you were looking at." Karl taps the back of the surfing magazine. Chris flinches in reflex. "You looking to get a new one?" "Maybe?" Chris shrugs and cautiously relaxes his shoulders. Everything's fine. Karl's just being friendly. "I mean, the waves here are pretty pussy, but you make do, y'know?" "Tell me about it." Karl settles into the director's chair next to him, which puts him in distractingly close proximity. Chris practices his yoga breathing to keep from pressing his knee against Karl's, just to know what it would feel like. "A couple of friends took me to Baja once for some surfing – one of them was shooting a movie there – and I had to weep at the pitiful state of the waves." "You surf?" Chris asks. He tries, but can't picture Karl riding the swell. But it does distract him from being distracted by Karl and his proximity. "Kiwi," Karl replies, succinctly, like that explains everything. Which, in all honesty, it really does. "Yeah, of course, sorry. What's your board?" "Got a Wayne Lynch I travel with, and a Reynolds Yater back at home." Chris lets out a low whistle of approval. Karl seems so normal. Not at all like a deadly Russian assassin or a perverted sex crazed whatever. Which just proves that listening to gossip is bad and that following the rules are good. "I've just got a beat up Piranha," he says, with a shrug. "She's a great board, but showing her age." Karl scoots his chair closer. His knee brushes against Chris'. Which may or may not distract Chris from paying attention to anything Karl says for the next fifteen minutes until one of the PAs finds him to drag him off to fluff his hair or whatever it is he needs. Then Pine and Simon find him. "I also heard Karl's into felching," Pine tells him, in passing. Chris is pretty sure he doesn't even want to know what felching is. And he definitely doesn't want Pine to explain it to him. Because he knows Pine will, and that he'll be as graphic (and loud) as possible. "Shut it, son." "And tying people up," Simon adds, then gives Chris a sunny smile. "Although I hear he waits until the third date to spring that on anyone." Chris responds by giving them both the finger, then heading to his trailer and banging his forehead against the nearest wall. The resulting headache lasts for two days. He avoids Karl for the next week. He blames Pine for that, too. *** "Oh, hello, what have we here...?" Zoe bucks against Karl's hand, desperate and wild. "Please..." He shoves her harder against the wall. "So wet for me..." "Yesss." "Gonna come for me, aren't you?" he asks, mellifluous voice honeyed with promise as he whips out a length of rope to tie Zoe's hands together. Chris steps back into the shadows to watch, even as he flushes with both shame and arousal.
*** By the time it comes around to Chris' last day, he's pretty certain he's developed schizophrenia. One day, he's allowing himself to relax around Karl and they're geeking out over Metal Gear Solid 2 and why Grant Morrison is sort of a god, and the next, Pine (mostly it's Pine) or Eric or Simon or someone will start telling him about all of the orgies that Karl's been in on other sets and that one time that he used a ball-gag on someone named Viggo Mortensen (he thinks the dude's an actor, maybe) and the other time he used a paddle on Moon Bloodgood's ass (who he totally knows about, because curves like hers deserve remembrance) until Chris has no idea what in fuck is going on. His brother would say that's not surprising. His brother is also an ass. And dating a Disney star, so his opinion totally doesn't count. *** "You're going to miss us," Simon states, and salutes him with his mug of tea, just tea, no whiskey at all in it, because Simon's totally a professional and would never, ever sneak a drink on the job. (Except for the fact that he totally does as often as he can.) "I admit nothing," Chris replies, even though he knows he will. "Although I definitely won't miss my son." "I heard that!" Pine calls from across the room. He and Karl are involved in what looks like a fairly substantive conversation, which means it's probably about Zoe's cup size. Pine's fascinated with boobs with all of the reverence of a 12 year-old just learning how to unhook a bra. John gives him a firm handshake. "Well, we're going to miss you around here." "And I expect an invite to the Thor set," Anton adds. "I don't have the part yet." "You will." Anton looks supremely confident. Chris wonders if Anton's also sleeping with Kenneth Branagh. Wouldn't surprise him. Anton's got a type. (If by 'type', one means older and smart as fuck.) "Thanks," he says, then Karl and Pine walk up. Pine exchanges a mysterious sort of look with Simon that Chris can't decipher (hence the mysterious part), then gives Chris a sheepish grin. Chris is immediately suspicious. "What've you done?" Karl, Chris notices, just crosses his rather impressive arms and stares at Pine like Pine's a misbehaving puppy. (Which is pretty accurate, most of the time.) "It's not precisely what I did," Pine starts, then yelps when Karl punches his shoulder and growls at him to get on with it. (Chris may have to surreptitiously adjust himself at hearing the growl. What, he's only human.) "It's what we did," Pine adds, after glaring at Karl. "What who did what?" Swear to Jesus, sometimes talking to Pine is like deciphering Chinese as spoken by a German. "Well, see it's like this," Simon starts, then looks at Anton. Who's blushing. Chris didn't think Anton knew how. "It's been pretty obvious from the day you got here that you've got a thing for Karl," Anton says. Immediately, Anton's blush transfers itself to Chris. "Um." "It's okay, it's kinda cute," Pine tells him. With Karl standing. Right. There. Chris is pretty sure he'll never be able to look Karl in the eyes ever again. (Thank God it's his last day.) "Anyway, since we all noticed..." "And, y'know, fucking with the new kid is fun..." "You calling someone a kid is totally like the pot calling the kettle black, by the way –" "Anyway, we decided to fuck with you. About Karl," Anton adds, in a helpful sort of voice that doesn't really help anything. "What?" Chris asks, proud of himself for trying to focus on the conversation, and not just on the fact that Karl is still standing right there, arms crossed, looking really hot, and having heard that Chris, y'know. Has a thing. For him. He wonders if he's made enough money to quit acting and move to Peru. "Karl's not really a sexual freak," Simon finally says. "Or, well, he might be, yeah, but we wouldn't know." "And he hasn't done any orgies. Or BDSM. That we know of," Pine adds, then sneaks a look at Karl (who is giving all three of them a world-class glower – which is also really hot, if slightly scary), and clears his throat. "Or that other stuff that we told you about." Comprehension hits Chris like a giant salamander upside the head. "You. Are a total dick." "Yeah, well, you'll thank me in the morning," Pine says, then takes a step back. Out of Chris' reach, the coward. "We'll just, um, leave you two lovebirds to it, then," Simon says brightly, and moves backwards, tugging on Anton's arm until it's just Chris and Karl standing there. By themselves. With the weight of everything (like the fact that Karl knows that Chris has a thing for him) between them. The silence that follows could give prostitutes and priests stuck in a closet together new lessons in awkward. Chris busies himself by looking at the walls and the floor and the cracks in the floor and the table and everything else around him except Karl. Then Karl clears his throat. "I'm sorry." "Huh?" Chris looks up in shock. Karl looks just as miserable as Chris feels. Which, ironically, makes Chris feel a lot better. Perverse of him, but true. "About them." Karl makes a vague waving motion to the guys (and Zoe) on the other side of the room. Studiously not looking in their direction. (Which Chris knows means they're totally trying to eavesdrop.) "It's alright," Chris shrugs. "Hopefully I can find a way to get them back at some point." "If you need help..." They both smile slightly at that, and Chris relaxes. He might just escape this conversation with maybe a few shreds of dignity intact. "So, you really thought I was into the whole kink thing?" Or, maybe not. "No, actually," Chris replies, and goes back to diligently looking at the blank wall just beyond Karl's ear. It's a lovely sort of taupe shade. Very soothing, or so he's heard. "I, um, didn't. But everyone kept telling me all of this...and it was, um, y'know..." "Because, if that's the sort of thing you go for..." Once again, Chris jerks his gaze back to Karl. Who looks more amused now than pissed, which is a much better look for him. Not that Karl ever looks bad – Chris is pretty sure that Karl's made a bargain with Satan on the whole always looking like sex on a stick thing – but Karl smiling is definitely Chris' favorite look on him. If Chris counted that sort of thing. Which he doesn't. "I am totally not into that sort of thing," he answers, choosing this time to grab the bull by the horns and own up to the fact that they are having this conversation, as embarrassing as it is. "I'm pretty fucking vanilla when it gets down to it. About as kinky as I get is swallowing." "Okay." Chris frowns. "That's it? Okay? That's all I get? I just, y'know, talked about swallowing with you, and all you have to say is okay?" "Well, I think asking you to prove how good you are at it is a little bit crass for our first date, don't you think?" Chris just blinks. Karl just responds by grinning that grin at him – you know the one. The one with the gorgeously twinkling eyes and brilliantly white teeth and those goddamn dimples framing that eminently kissable mouth. The grin that sort of scrambles what little is left of Chris' brain until it resembles dust. Upon seeing it, it may or may not take Chris a few moments to find his voice (and, more importantly, what's left of his wits.) However, once he does, because he's not a stupid sort of bloke at all, he takes Karl by the hand (marveling at how well their fingers slide together) and drags him to the nearest private area (Karl's trailer, which is closer than his own by 15 very important and long metres), and sets about enthusiastically proving that vanilla isn't at all boring. And that he's totally got this swallowing thing down to a science. Karl, to Chris' considerable delight and amazement, is completely on board with this plan. And is also really damn good at the whole swallowing thing, as well as a few thousand other things that he also demonstrates to Chris. Repeatedly. And, the best part is, since it's Chris' last day, he's not breaking any rules about sleeping with a co-star. (Not that they do much sleeping that first night. Or the next day. Week. Okay, maybe they still don't sleep a lot when they're together, but that's not a bad thing.) Sometimes the universe aligns up perfectly. *** The moral of the story is (and yes, there is one; this story isn't just a pretty face, you know – it's totally got meaning, thank you): never trust your co-stars, because they're all professional lying magpie pranksters. And even if it works out alright in the end, the best thing to do is trust your gut over gossip. (Chris might have gotten that from a bumper sticker. Which doesn't change the fact that the sentiment is wise and shit.) And Chris still totally blames Pine for everything, even though Pine hadn't been working alone. But he figures he's getting Karl out of the deal, so maybe he actually owes Pine one. Not that he'll ever tell Pine this. Although he and Karl do come up with the perfect way to get Pine back. But that's another story.
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