"Oh." He couldn't help but stare. When he'd been seven and a half, he'd been playing with bugs, with the knowledge of, well, a seven and a half year old—on good days. Ana might have been a thirty year old soul in a little girl's body.
"You like licorice?" She noticed the bag in his hand and held up a bag of her own. "Mine's lemon and cherry. There's sour gooey stuff in the middle. Want some?"
"Yeah, okay."
He sat down beside her, traded a few pieces of licorice, and listened while she told him about the book she was reading. It had something to do with an elf princess, a sorcerer, and a thousand year war in some magical land. She used a lot of big words describing it—like audacity, verisimilitude, scintillating—but she was patient when she explained what those words meant. For his part, Gabriel learned that verisimilitude meant "to act or look real," and that Ana could not only use it in a sentence, but spell it forwards and backwards.
"I see you've met Ana." Ariel approached from the back of the bus, messing up her already sleep-mussed hair.
"When did she get here?"
Ariel laughed. "Late last night. Kris—Ana's dad—caught a flight out here to meet us on the road. He's going out of town for a funeral, so his family couldn't watch her. So she's coming on tour with us for a couple days." Ariel wrapped an arm around Ana and kissed the top of her head.
"Is that a big enough book to last you the whole time you're here?" Ariel asked Ana.
"I have the next three in the series in my backpack."
Ariel nodded, grinning at Gabriel.
Gabriel trailed after her as she dug some muffins out of the cupboard for Ana and sat down at the table with one of her own. Ana ate while reading. Ariel couldn't stop smiling.
Her smile widened when she saw that Gabriel had noticed her adoration. "You're quiet. You don't have a trillion questions about what a single lesbian is doing with a daughter."
Gabriel shrugged. "Ana explained already. And plenty of single people have kids."
She smiled; and Gabriel saw her relax slightly. "She's my favorite thing in the whole world. I wouldn't take back a minute of it—not dating boys, not pretending I liked sucking cock, not getting knocked up at sixteen. It all brought me her."
Gabriel smiled. "You're lucky, then."
Ariel smiled too. "Yes. Yes, I am."
A little while later, Ariel realized she had to run to the store because Kris had forgotten to pack Ana spare undies, though he had packed a wide variety of outfits. Ana explained that Kris was from New York and didn't trust the weather patterns in the Midwest. Gabriel volunteered to stay with Ana until Ariel got back.
"Can I paint your nails?" Ana asked hopefully.
Gabriel glanced down at his fingers. "They're already painted."
"Black's not a real color."
He smiled. "Okay."
Not only did Ariel paint his nails electric pink, but she showed him how to push back his cuticles. "Mom showed me," Ana explained. "Long nails get in the way when she plays, but pushing back the cuticles makes them longer in the other direction."
Gabriel had never heard that before, but he had to agree. And the pink didn't look too bad either. He jerked his chin at Michael when he walked in from the back of the bus, looking half asleep still as he pushed his hair out of his eyes.
"Hi, Michael!" Ana waved. "We saved you a muffin."
Michael blinked at her. "Hi, Ana. Are—are you painting Gabriel's nails?"
"Pink! Can I do yours later?"
"I just got a manicure. You can do my toes though."
"Yippee!"
She finished Gabriel's nails and instructed him not to touch anything until they dried. Smiling, he sat obediently to wait.
"Hey, Gabriel?" Michael asked. "Want to go for a walk?"
"As soon as Ariel gets back, I'm all yours—after my nails have dried," he amended quickly when Ana gave him a look.
*~*~*
Michael and Gabriel walked side by side down the sidewalk. They weren't talking; there wasn't much to say. What kind of follow up was there after their falling out? Gabriel certainly didn't know. But he couldn't deny that as bruised as his feelings were, that carnal attraction was still there, that chemical desire. He didn't understand it any more than he had two weeks before.
"Do you want to have kids?" Michael asked abruptly, almost awkward in the wake of silence.
"Umm, yeah. One day," Gabriel answered honestly. He hadn't given it too much thought before, but he assumed that one day he would have a family. "Do you?"
"Yeah, I do." Michael gave a small wistful smile. "I want to be a father."
"After all this is over? Or before?"
Michael hesitated. "I love what I do—it's my whole life. But for my kid, I would give up anything. I want the best for her."
"Her?"
Michael smiled. "Yeah. I want an adorable little girl—and I wouldn't complain if she was a lesbian, so I wouldn't have to beat boys like me off with a stick."
Gabriel snorted at the image in his head. "Even with all this shit you put up with for being queer, you want that for her?"
Michael didn't say anything as he mulled it over. Finally, he said, "I want her to be who she is. If she's a flaming transgender homosexual with cross-dressing tendencies, I'll be happy for her and support her and love her."
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Do you know many flaming transgender homosexual drag queens?"
"Mix and match any two of those and my answer is yes, many. Plenty that are three. But so far, none that are all four."
Gabriel grinned. "Me either."
"I used to trade cards with this one chick … We were quite the pair. I was a flaming homo, and she was drag king—and they're pretty flaming too—"
"Woah, woah, woah." Gabriel interrupted, his eyebrows raised. "You used to trade cards?"
Michael froze like the proverbial deer in headlights, and Gabriel could have sworn he saw him blush ever so slightly.
"No way."
Michael hung his head. "And I rolled dice 'til I was twenty-two."
Gabriel winced. "Conventions?"
"All the time. I travelled fifteen hundred miles to one once—with that drag king."
"Costumes?"
"Duh—I mean, look at me." Michael gestured to his leather and glitter get up.
Gabriel shook his head. "How many people know about the geek hiding under all that leather?"
Michael grinned. "A select few. Welcome to the club."
"Does this club have jackets?" Gabriel inquired with teasing sincerity.
"Rhinestone bedazzled ones. They're purple—and shiny."
Gabriel winced. "I think I'll pass on the jacket. Just teach me the secret handshake, and I'll be all set."
Michael laughed. "That's good. I couldn't be seen with you if you were wearing a purple bedazzled jacket."
"I'm imagining this really bad eighties looking thing over acid washed skinny jeans. Maybe with a headband to accessorize."
Michael made a face. "No way. We're way too cool for that."
"For nerds, you mean."
Michael stuck out his tongue.
"Put that tongue away unless you're going to make use of it."
Michael cocked an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?"
Part of Gabriel—most of Gabriel—wanted to follow up on that, get all up in Michael's space, and touch him in ways that would seem very inappropriate to passersby. Instead, he remembered their recent conversation and laughed it off, keeping his voice light. "No, baby, that's a promise."
They continued their walk, and Michael asked, "Are you ready for the video shoot?"
"What shoot?"
Michael pulled up short. "Seriously, Gabriel?" His look was part laughing, part exasperated. "The calendar?"
Gabriel grinned. "I'm only joking. Video shoot for Judgment Day."
Michael looked surprised. "Damn. Finally."
"I programmed alarms into my phone," Gabriel admitted. "I haven't quite got in the habit of checking the calen
dar for new additions twice a day."
Michael laughed. "That's true."
Gabriel hesitated. He really wanted to do this video—who wouldn't? But he didn't want to fuck things up for the band or for Michael to regret it later. "Are you sure about this?"
"About what?"
"Having me in the video. I'm only a temporary member. I'll be gone by the time the video's released anyway."
"Of course I want you in it! You're in the band. You're my Gabriel—you deserve to be in this video. It won't be right without you."
Gabriel nodded, secretly relieved that he wasn't about to get the last minute boot out of the video. "I heard that the label's giving you shit about it."
Michael shrugged. "They just don't see what I see yet."
"They say you're giving me too big a role. What kind of role are we talking about here?"
Michael's grin was catlike. "Just wait and see, Gabriel."
*~*~*
He was playing Michael's lover. That was what Gabriel deduced within a few minutes of being on set—aided by Ana who had tugged on his belt loop and whispered, "You're playing Michael's boyfriend," before Ariel set her up with her books out of the way.
The director turned to the extras, explaining the vision of the video to them. It sounded an awful lot like Michael explaining the vision of the tour—almost identical in passion and visage.
"First the makeup artist and now the video director, and they all sound just like you. Where do you find these people?"
Michael grinned at him proudly. "I found you, didn't I?" Gabriel had to concede that. Michael had found him all right. "Like attracts like. It's the law of the universe. When you look, you find."
That made sense, Gabriel supposed, but he teased, "When did you become Gandhi?"
Michael grinned. "Baby, I've always been this way."
"You've always spoken in metaphors?" Sammael popped in.
"He's always been cryptic," Uriel corrected.
"Yeah—a gay doomsday sayer," Ariel teased.
Michael heaved a frustrated sigh. "Raphael?"
Raphael hesitated.
"What?" Michael demanded. "What is it?"
"I can't think of anything."
Gabriel joined the rest of the band in their laughter.
*~*~*
They shot the full band performance shots first so that Ariel could be free to spend time with Ana. It took the full first day with three set and wardrobe changes.
It was exhausting. Gabriel was reminded of rehearsals for the GSAs, with the exception of the yelling. No one here was telling him he was doing a shitty job; he didn't have to worry about tripping over any dancers. Instead, the director gave minute adjustments and suggestions, and then made them run through the song half a million times. When Gabriel grumblingly mentioned that to Ana, she informed him that it would have taken three point five seven years to play Judgment Day five hundred thousand times, and Gabriel immediately shut his mouth.
Gabriel and Michael were back at dawn the next day—bright eyed and bushy tailed. Well, Michael was, and he brought Gabriel enough caffeine that, eventually, he was too. That, and he had to take frequent bathroom breaks.
The first series of shot were little snippets, tasters and set up of what was to come. They were simple: the two men gazing at each other, avoiding each other, pining alone. A lot of emotion with very little action. Gabriel thought he nailed it pretty well. Pining was an emotion he was very familiar with, and when it came to Michael, the whole forbidden fruit thing was practically engraved in his bones.
There was a second camera crew on the set as well, from a TV studio recording a "making of" special.
"The video encapsulates the heart of the song—wanting something you can't have, possessing it, and then being judged for it," Michael told the camera as Gabriel lurked nearby. "We just shot some of the preliminary sequences, basically setting up the wanting between Gabriel's character and mine. We're going to do the climax scene now, the possession of the forbidden fruit."
Gabriel blushed faintly when he heard that. That was right—the sex scene was next. He wasn't exactly shy about his body, but he wasn't sure he was comfortable displaying it for the entire cast and crew. Didn't Hollywood have body doubles or something for these types of situations?
Michael winked at him after the cameras turned away. "You ready, hot stuff?"
Gabriel hesitated and then shrugged. "I guess?"
Michael laughed. "It's not as awkward as it seems."
"How many times have fifty people stared at your dick and thought, 'That looks like a penis, only smaller?'"
Michael snorted. "Baby, I've seen your dick—you've got nothing to worry about. Trust me."
Gabriel felt another blush creep over his face, but this one had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with pride in Michael's compliment.
He waited side stage in his robe, shifting his wait from foot to foot and rocking on the heels of his feet. He wasn't nervous, no, not at all. Petrified, maybe.
Michael approached him, and Gabriel tried to take slow, calming breaths. It was all for nothing as Michael walked straight up to him, grabbed his head, and kissed him hard.
Gabriel was breathless when he pulled back with a pop. "What the—Michael?"
Michael grinned. "I thought we needed an icebreaker."
"An icebreaker?" Gabriel squeaked. "You just pushed your tongue down my throat."
Michael's grin widened. "And it was awesome, wasn't it? You can't deny it; I can tell you thought so, too."
Gabriel made a face. "Alright, Mr. High and Mighty. You're a wonderful kisser. Can we get on with this now, or do you need me to fan your ego some more?"
"Baby, you can fan my ego whenever you feel the urge. I ain't gonna stop you."
Gabriel rolled his eyes, shrugged out of his robe, and marched naked to the middle of the set. It was only once he stretched out on the elaborate four-post bed that he realized he'd given Michael exactly what he'd wanted: he'd pushed aside his nerves.
Michael sprawled beside him as a few PAs adjusted the gauzy drapes according to the director's shouted instruction. "Cozy, isn't it?"
"I hate you," Gabriel accused half-heartedly, his eyes narrowed.
"Nah, you love me."
"Mmm." Gabriel didn't have a comeback for that. They weren't doing the relationship thing; they'd decided that. But it was just so natural to act like there was more between them, like there could be something real and lasting. It confused Gabriel and made his head hurt, and he tried to ignore the thoughts and focus on the video.
The director instructed them in the lovemaking-that-wasn't-really-lovemaking. "It's not a porno," Michael retorted when Gabriel commented on how much work it was to look like sex without having sex. "We spent way too much money on this for it to be a porno. And I'd like to think you and I are above having a sex-tape scandal."
"I would not be surprised at all that you have sex tapes out there somewhere."
Michael simply grinned, proudly, and Gabriel rolled his eyes with a groan.
"Of course, you do."
"Okay," the director called, "let's give it a go!"
Gabriel tried to concentrate on The Plan, his directions, and his cues, but the skin was distracting.
"Relax," Michael whispered, kissing him soundly. "Just enjoy it. Natural is sexy."
Kissing Michael came naturally. Being intimate with him was as easy and comfortable as breathing. Quickly, Gabriel was no longer worried about prying eyes but about popping a raging boner in front of the whole crew.
Dead puppies, he told himself. His great aunt in a string bikini. Baby seal clubbing. Chinese water torture. POWs. Cancer. Mass murder. Serial killers—
"Cut!" the director shouted. "Gabriel, what are you thinking about? You look like it's killing you."
Gabriel flushed.
"Dead puppies?" Michael whispered knowingly.
"And worse," Gabriel muttered.
"I'm flattered." Michael smiled
at him. Gabriel supposed it was flattering in some way that he had to resort to thinking about graphic murder not to get a hard-on with all Michael's bare skin pressing against him, hot and smooth and—
"Let's try it again!"
Finally, the sex scenes were over, and Gabriel was able to cover his oversensitive cock. In the dressing room, he could swear he heard a muffled groan from the adjoining bathroom, and when it came again, his eyebrows shot towards his hairline. Michael was getting off! He recognized that groan and the little choking sound that followed.
He waited, arms crossed and legs spread, outside the door until Michael exited, and then Gabriel fixed him with an accusing stare, prepared to tease the mickey out of him.
Michael immediately looked guilty. "What?"
Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "These walls aren't exactly soundproof, hot shot."
Michael shrugged, not looking guilty anymore. "You're hard to resist, babe. I feel like high school all over again." He grinned at Gabriel, adjusted his pants a little more than necessary, and strutted to the set.
*~*~*
They wrapped late that night—technically, early the following morning—after a number of fight scenes and the climactic judgment day scene at the end of the video.
"Come here." Michael gestured him over to a man on a computer, and as Gabriel approached, he saw a number of stills from the video. "We're gonna put a few teasers online for the fans to drool over. What do you think about these?"
There were a few pining shots, a few sex shots, and then a shot from the end of the video with Michael and Gabriel standing back to back, hands clasped, as the world fell down around them.
"Wow." That was all Gabriel could say.
Michael grinned. "Right?"
When Gabriel fell asleep half an hour later, that grin was still engraved in his memory.
*~*~*
Late that evening, Gabriel made his way to Michael's hotel room. It was Uriel's twenty-seventh birthday, and they were celebrating at a "slammin' club," as Michael put it. Michael answered the door in only a towel, even though they were supposed to be leaving in twenty minutes.
"Damn," Michael said, raking over him with his eyes. "You look smokin', babe."
"Thanks. You look like you're going to Uriel's in a towel."
"Pfft." Michael flapped a hand at him. "I've barely started the masterpiece that is tonight's wardrobe."
Rocking Hard, Volume 2 Page 7
