Love Conventions

by Morgan James

  The plot was simple: Hamish and Niall, in the middle of a sexual-tension–fueled tiff, find a werewolf puppy during the full moon. As she’s fully transformed for the three days, they’re unable to find her parents. Cue hijinks as they try to care for a wolf pup.

  When Raksha went barreling across the set and ran straight into Ash’s shins, he was grateful Hamish’s natural inclination was to scoop her up and coo. When the director called cut to reset the scene, Ash turned to find Remy. His expression was soft, and he looked ready to steal the puppy out of his arms. Ash caught his gaze and mouthed thank you at him. Then Raksha licked his nose. Remy’s face did this sort of meltdown at the sight of so much cute, but he managed a thumbs-up in response to Ash’s gratitude.

  Despite how boring it was to watch filming, both Etta and Remy lasted through the afternoon, sitting on the sidelines with Rhea and Charlie. Most times when Ash glanced over, their arms were full of napping furball.

  When they took a midafternoon break to hydrate all the actors, including the puppies, Remy was stood near Ash’s director’s chair and grinning so hard his eyes near disappeared.

  “Enjoying yourself?” Ash reached for the water bottle hanging off his chair and uncapped it.

  “OhmyGod. You have no idea how amazing this is. That’s my concept you’re filming. My idea, and you’re bringing it to life, and I had no idea how amazing it would feel, but it’s just so awesome because you’re filming my idea.” Remy pulled in a deep breath.

  “So what you’re saying is, it’s good to see your work being filmed,” Ash teased.

  Remy punched his shoulder and didn’t stop grinning. “Shut up. I’ve had so many ideas for werewolf scripts after all the research I did into them. Who knew that degree would have any practical use?” His gaze turned to the set and went somewhat distant. Then he refocused on Ash. “Thank you for your part in this.”

  Ash arched an eyebrow. If Remy thought Ash had pulled strings in any sort of way for him…. Not that Ash wouldn’t do it, but he’d never needed to. Remy got here on his own, and Ash had no reason to interfere with that. “This is all on your merits.”

  Remy pinked a wee bit. “You may not have anything to do with them liking my idea or the writing of the script, but you’re helping to bring it all together, and I’m grateful.”

  “Well. You’re welcome, then.”

  Remy’s grin turned back up to full wattage, and he punched Ash’s shoulder once again. “Good.” Then his gaze softened and his expression turned more serious. “You’ve helped me a lot in the last few weeks, with making this transition to a new job and city. It’s been nice, already having a sort-of friend here.”

  Uncomfortable, Ash shrugged. He’d never felt very altruistic about “helping” Remy settle in. His motives were pretty selfish. He sighed gustily. “Well, it’s been a sacrifice to spend time with you, true, but I pluck through.”

  Remy chuckled and glared. “Thanks, loser.”

  Ash was still smiling when they pulled him back on set.

  Chapter Seven

  THREE days later Remy texted midway through the day to say he was working at home, his roommate was out of town, and maybe Ash would like to come over after work?

  So Ash called off Etta and made the trek out to one of the less desirable neighborhoods, to the small two-bedroom walk-up Remy helped rent.

  Remy let him in and turned back toward the kitchen. “I’m cooking with Nisha. Find me when you’re ready.” He grinned and bounded off.

  Ash removed his wet jacket and boots, and followed. The space was cramped. As he passed through the living room on the way to the kitchen, he peeked into an open doorway. He recognized the hoodie abandoned on the bed—the Wonder Woman logo discernable despite the crumpled fabric—and frowned with dismay. Remy’s bedroom was a closet with ambitions.

  Remy stood at the stove, stirring a pot and chatting with Nisha displayed on his propped-up phone.

  “I walked a few dogs last week, so that should help. And we’ll see about next year.” Remy chewed his lip.

  Ash frowned. Was Remy having troubles?

  “Oh! Ash, come meet Nish.” He waved Ash over excitedly. “Ash, Nisha. Nisha, Ash.”

  Her smiling face filled the screen. “Hello,” she said in a rich alto.

  “Hi. Good to finally meet ‘Donna.’”

  Her dark eyes danced beneath her equally dark fringe. “That’s me. Thanks for doing that, by the way. Remy won’t share copies of the picture”—she cut him an exasperated look—“so it’s not like loads of people have seen you in a wig, but that you didn’t hesitate made my day.”

  Ash blushed and shuffled his feet. “You should no’ thank me for no’ being a bawheid.”

  She gave a somewhat sharklike smile. “Good answer. Anyway, boo, I should say good night. Early start in the morning, so I better be off to bed.”

  “Fine,” Remy huffed playfully.

  “Ingrate. It was lovely to meet you, Ash.” She waved and then cut the connection with one last “Love you.”

  “She seems lovely,” Ash said, wishing he could say more without sounding like he was blowing smoke.

  Remy beamed. “She really is.”

  He plated up the chana masala, spinach, and rice, and they settled at the tiny dining-room table. Ash ate a couple of bites and complimented Remy for making another spectacular meal.

  “Thanks.” Remy smiled.

  They ate in silence for a minute, and then Ash, trying his best to sound casual, asked, “Did I hear you say something about dogs?”

  “Yeah. That trainer came through. I have a couple of dog-walking clients.” He smiled. “Since I don’t really need to go down to the studio on most days, just like it better than working here”—he waved a hand to take in the room—“it’s easy to find the time.”

  Ash considered this. “You missed it, aye?”

  “Yeah. Dogs are the best. And since I can’t afford one, this is a good compromise.” He smiled, self-deprecating. “Also, better to be paid to spend time with them, rather than the other way around, right?”

  Ash nodded. “True.” He took another bite and considered his next words as he chewed. He wished he could simply offer to help, but it wasn’t his place. And it was probably unwanted, if Remy’s insistence on paying his way whenever they went out said anything. “Well, I’m glad you’re doing something you enjoy.”

  Remy tilted his head. “Thanks. It’s… good. I’m not worrying about making the rent or anything, not while I’m working for Mythfits, but the future isn’t exactly certain. My contract’s only for the one season, and a second isn’t a lock.” He snorted. “Finishing the first isn’t even guaranteed.” He played with his still-clean knife. “To be honest, I’m not sure what’ll happen. I’ve been keeping an eye on job listings, but nothing definite. The joys of an uncertain future.” He looked away and then back. “Enough about this. Tell me how your day went.”

  Ash did.

  Later, after dinner, he tapped his pendant and said softly, “Something will turn up. You’re too talented to not land on your feet.” Then he gathered up the dishes and carried them into the kitchen. He ignored the way his palms stuck to the cooling ceramic and his heart pounded. He was overreacting to giving a simple compliment.

  He set the dishes next to the sink, and Remy came in carrying their mismatched glasses. Ash swiped his so he could refill it.

  “Thank you,” Remy said and bumped their hips together, leaving a tingling hum behind.

  Ash’s lips curved. “Welcome.” He bumped back.

  Remy stepped back and, with a smirk, pulled out his phone. “Cleanup tunes!”

  Britney Spears came streaming through the sound system. Soon, Remy danced about the kitchen and put leftovers away as Ash washed dishes.

  “Ooh!” he crooned happily when the track changed over to a mid-’90s beat. He shimmied his hips, dried dishes, and hummed off-key.

  “Terrible,” Ash groaned.

  Remy raised his eyebrows and shim
mied his hips to Mariah Carey. He waved his tea towel round and danced toward Ash. He threw his hands in the air, the towel hanging from his fingers as he cocked his hips back and forth to the rhythm.

  Warmth filled Ash’s chest. Laughing and trying not to stare at his hips, he covered Remy’s mouth with a soapy hand to shut him up. It worked, for a moment. But then Remy pulled away to sing along. “Always be my baby!”

  So Ash splashed him with soapy water, and Remy shrieked and danced out of range.

  “Mariah hater!”

  “I’ve nothing against her,” Ash protested. “She can sing.”

  “Ouch!” Remy clutched his heart like a drama queen, but before Ash could do more than roll his eyes, Remy recovered. He flipped the tea towel out, looped it round Ash’s neck, and pulled him in close as he sang badly. He fluttered his eyelashes, starlet style.

  Ash stared down into those brilliant eyes. His gaze flickered to Remy’s pouting mouth, and he became suddenly and totally aware of how close they were. Remy’s forearms rested against his chest, his toes bumped against Ash’s. If he leaned a bit closer, their entire bodies would touch. Ash’s skin tingled and he tensed. He couldn’t take his eyes off Remy’s mouth.

  Remy trailed off, and Ash glanced up from his mouth and found Remy staring back at him, wide-eyed. Then Remy flicked his gaze down too and licked his lips.

  Oh. Ash had hoped that Remy… but he hadn’t—

  “Ash,” Remy breathed, his body so tense it nearly trembled, “tell me—I mean, I think you—sometimes the way you look at me makes me think you do.” He searched Ash’s eyes, his lips parted.

  Ash stared back, and Remy tilted up, dropped the tea towel, and pressed his hand to Ash’s chest. His own right hand gripping the edge of the sink, Ash leaned in.

  Remy’s lips were soft, faintly chapped, and fit perfectly beneath Ash’s own. He gently brushed their mouths together, testing. His skin prickled under Remy’s breath.

  Ash hesitated. Nerves bubbled in his belly, as he was suddenly, keenly aware of his lack of experience. Off camera, he hadn’t kissed anyone in years, too frightened to admit who he really wanted. What should he do? How…. Real kissing wasn’t the same as on-screen kissing, surely. Then Remy sighed, parted his lips lightly, and pressed his mouth firmly to Ash’s, and all thoughts but the taste and feel of Remy fled Ash’s mind.

  Remy slid his hands up Ash’s chest to cup gently around his face, and Ash fluttered his left hand uselessly before settling it on Remy’s waist.

  The kiss was almost embarrassingly chaste, Ash thought giddily, a lightness filling his limbs, but when Remy pulled back a few scant inches to look him in the eye, his cheeks were bright red and his eyes dark.

  “Please,” Remy whispered, his voice husky, “tell me you’ve been feeling this too. Because I like you, kind of a lot. I’m stupidly gone on your Doctor Who- and cooking-show-obsessed self, you nerd, and I thought maybe—”

  “Aye,” Ash said, fast but unashamed. He swallowed hard, his hands clenched.

  “Aye?”

  “I do… like you. Er, rather a lot.”

  Remy’s face lit up. “Good.” He licked his lips and pushed up onto his toes; their noses bumped together. Giddy, Ash breathed a laugh, and Remy returned it. For a second, they stood so close, sharing breath and smiling at each other like numpties. Then Remy closed the distance and brushed his lips against Ash’s mouth again.

  Ash at last released the sink and wrapped both hands around Remy’s waist. Remy snaked his tongue out and gently licked Ash’s lips. Ash let him in, and they kissed long and slow for several minutes, standing in Remy’s tiny kitchen, snogging like kids.

  Until Mel B broke in suddenly and loudly to demand what they wanted. Remy broke away, laughing. Smiling with all the joy that also filled Ash’s chest, he stepped away to dance around and sing “Wannabe.”

  And Ash, heart pumping, joined him. Laughing and dancing, he curbed the urge to kiss Remy once again. There would be time enough for more of that later.

  THE following week, one of the more difficult directors decided a scene needed rewriting the morning of the shoot.

  Which meant more “hurry up and wait” than usual and plenty of time for Ash to linger on memories of Remy in his arms. Ash sat lounging in his director’s chair, thinking about Remy—the taste of his lips, the feel of his body curled against his own—and waiting for orders when Michael found him and slumped into the seat next to him with a sigh.

  “Have you heard?”

  “No?” Ash tilted his head.

  Michael loudly blew out a deep breath. “I guess the douchebag corner of the internet found out about us.”

  Ash furrowed his brow. “But we’re not aired yet.”

  “No. But some folks have seen the pilot, and the network is already teasing us—premiere next week. So eejits have opinions.” He leaned back, settling in.

  Ash chewed his lip. “What kinds?” Maybe it was stupid to ask, but he needed to be sure.

  “Oh, the usual. We’re gross and godless.” Ash’s stomach dropped. A cloud passed over Michael’s expression. “Extra so because me.” He waved a hand before his face.

  Ash winced. “I’m sorry.”

  Michael waved him off. “Not you, mate.” He sighed.

  “No. I guess it just proves we’re doing good here, aye?”

  Michael nodded. “Definitely. And fuck ’em. Once we’re on air, we’ll have so many fans they’ll drown out the biggotty whingin’.”

  Ash barked a surprised laugh. “Yeah. We will.”

  “Damn right! We won’t be able to hear them over all the praise.” He winked.

  “Yeah. Sounds like a plan.” Ash did his best to smile and ignore the doubt.

  “Anyway, darlin’, tell me something nice.” Michael rested his head on Ash’s shoulder and fluttered his lashes.

  An image of Remy with lowered eyelids and a wet mouth, staring at Ash with joy and desire, flashed into his mind. Hoping he wasn’t blushing, he pushed the image away and snorted. “It’s almost lunch?”

  Michael gasped. “Love, you’re right. Let’s go.” He bounded to his feet, grabbed Ash’s hand, and pulled a laughing Ash to craft services.

  They found Jasmine, Kim, and Remy already seated.

  Ash couldn’t imagine a better group of costars. He’d been a guest on sets where the actors hadn’t got on—had experienced it himself with some of the regulars on Restraint—but Mythfits had no such tension. Ash and his four costars often found one another during breaks, and lately Remy had sought them out, first shyly and then with increasing confidence when he was routinely welcomed.

  “What time on Saturday?” Kim asked in her usual even tone.

  Jasmine shrugged. “Anytime after four. I’m not planning on showering until after brunch at noon.”

  “Isn’t that lunch?” Michael cocked his head.

  “Not if it’s mostly eggs and waffles,” Jasmine said loftily. “Anyway, whenever. And bring whatever you want.” She smiled at Remy. “Feel free to come along. Kim’s bringing her brother, Ash better bring Etta. It’s nothing fancy, a casual dinner, might play some games.” She pointed a finger in his face. “But no admittance without food.” She winked.

  “Sounds like fun.” Remy smiled—though not the one he’d offered Ash minutes before, Ash noted, butterflies in his belly. “What’s the occasion?”

  His costars gave Remy looks so incredulous that Ash nearly choked on his salad.

  “Watch party,” Jasmine said.

  “Our premiere,” Michael added more helpfully. “We’re gathering at Jasmine’s to watch together.”

  “Ooh.” Remy sat up straighter. “Well, I’m definitely in for that.”

  Kim snorted. “Misery loves company.”

  Jasmine and Michael both aimed a punch to her shoulders.

  “Shut up. It’ll be great.”

  “Yeah, sunshine, they’ll love us. Me and Ash are irresistible.” Michael winked.

  Ash shook his head and
cast a commiserating look Remy’s way—his lips were pressed together and twitched with suppressed laughter. Underneath the table, he pressed his foot to Ash’s be-Chucked one.

  Warmth burbled in Ash’s stomach. This was everything he wanted. He wished to stay in this moment, for Mythfits to go on forever. He didnae ken how he’d adjust if he lost any of it.

  TIRED, Ash turned to the lift instead of the stairs and enjoyed the wee rest on the short trip. Halfway through filming a scene, director Bob had decided it wasn’t working and ordered they reset, reblock, and restart—hours of work down the drain, and hours of waiting for the new set, which left them hopelessly behind schedule. Bob promised it would be worth the trouble, but as Ash stumbled toward his door after eight, rubbing at his face, he nearly doubted it.

  He certainly couldn’t thank Bob for ruining his evening plans.

  He found the flat quiet but not uninhabited. Etta was curled up in one of the comfy chairs, reading, and Remy sat at the dining-room table, notebooks, laptop, and books laid out before him. While Etta looked serene and comfortable curled up in joggers, Remy was her opposite. His hair was in disarray, his leg bounced, and he scowled at his work.

  Ash’s heart skipped a beat and then another. For a long moment, he stood and stared, taking in the beautiful face. He and Remy had made plans to cook dinner, and Ash, thinking the delay would be short, told Remy to come over anyway, that Etta would let him in. At least Remy hadn’t been forced to twiddle his thumbs while he waited.

  Etta looked up when Ash shut the door. She glanced at Remy, then back at Ash, raised her eyebrows, nodded at his frustrated… friend, and turned pointedly back to her book. Blushing, recalling the way Etta waggled her eyebrows when he told her about the kiss, Ash shook his head, slipped off his Blundstones, and walked over to the oblivious Remy.

  Ash had conjured so many plans for that evening—most of which involved the couch and the continued exploration of Remy’s body as Remy showed Ash how to kiss and cuddle—but the weariness in his body and the wrinkle on Remy’s forehead said those plans were lost.