winterlive | [ square #3 ]

nutrek RPF, pine/quinto, PG-13, for

cliche_bingo. it's kind of pre-slash? idk. really an exercise in voice, for me.

center bottom: abduction & kidnapping

Zach slouches on an old couch in the green room of a rinkadink studio in a dusty NBC backlot. He's done enough fucking press to last a lifetime, but this one's for Heroes and he feels obligated - between his New York project and the new short for Before The Door, not to mention the behemoth time suck that is Star Trek, he feels like he's given Heroes nothing of himself at all in recent weeks. September isn't far enough away, and the few scenes he's shot at the studio with Adrian could have gone better - he got accustomed to a dozen takes, two dozen. Now there's six or seven, and it's off to the next thing.

It all makes his head hurt, quite frankly. His publicist promised this would be fast and easy, and yet here he is waiting for the four people ahead of him to be done with their interviews so he can take his turn. It's not like they're even Heroes people - then at least he could be sociable. No, it's NBC's new fall lineup, and they've got everyone tucked away in their own little spaces and hey, maybe a nap wouldn't be out of line right about now.

Without warning, the door pops open. Zach's all set to gently tease the makeup girl about knocking next time, but the pretty face that pokes inside bears zero resemblance to her and doesn't give a goddamn about knocking. This, Zach knows from long experience.

"Hey," whispers Chris, waving his hand fast and sharp. "C'mon, move your ass. We don't have a whole hell of a lot of window here."

"Window?" Zach asks, hurrying over to the door. He's delighted to see his friend, of course, but what the hell he's doing here is a total mystery. "Don't you have a dress rehearsal or something?"

Chris scoffs. "Dude, it's Monday. Now come on."

Zach is lost, but he follows along as Chris sneaks through the corridors like James freaking Bond. If he had a single clue what was going on, it might be kind of fun - shit, it's fun anyway. He presses up against the walls when Chris does, and together they duck the lazy security guards and far-more-terrifying PAs without indicent.

When they arrive at a side door and Chris opens it, that's when Zach digs in his heels. "Hey, I like a little intrigue as much as the next guy, but where are we going? I do have a job."

Chris throws his body against Zach's, pushing them against the wall, his hand over Zach's mouth. "Shh!" he hisses, barely an inch away. "You'll lead them straight to us!"

Under ordinary circumstances, Zach would protest being manhandled like this. But it's Chris's hand, and Chris's insanity, and Chris's perfect thigh pressing between his own. He probably doesn't mean to imply what that action implies, but Zach isn't dead, for God's sake. So he keeps his mouth shut and doesn't fight, and just tries to express what-the-ever-loving-Christ with his eyes.

Slowly, Chris eases his hand away. He's so close that Zach can feel hot little puffs of air sliding along his throat. His eyes clearly say: quietly, or I will commit acts of violence on your person. Or so Zach translates.

He can do quiet.

"What," he whispers, "in fuck are you doing?"

Chris has the balls to look offended. "I'm rescuing you!" he fires back. "Are you or are you not bored to shit on what's supposed to be your day off?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"So it's kind of a kidnapping, fine, just go with it! I lied to a guy in a suit, man; he could have been an executive."

This is completely ridiculous. Zach should turn around and march right back into his green room, he should wait for his photocall and do his job.

Chris looks down the hall, and his thigh shifts, bumping their knees together.

"What'd you tell them?" Zach asks, almost inaudible.

Chris's smile is brilliant, and far too close for comfort. "I said you had a family emergency. The guy assumed you were already out the door."

Zach rolls his eyes. "Jesus."

The face goes from barely repressed delight to barely repressed disappointment in a flash. God, he's so expressive. Zach is instantly crippled. "I thought you'd be happy to get out of there," Chris murmurs, a hint of hurt in the tone.

"I am," Zach assures him. "Thank you, I really am." The blinding smile he gets in return is worth any diva rumor that might crop up. Not for the first time, Zach curses his body's refusal to listen to him about who is an appropriate crush and who is not.

"Then let's go," Chris beams, and lunges for the door.

Zach races after him as they go sprinting across the lot together. Nobody's going to stop them, Zach knows, racing behind Chris as fast as he can go, his heart thumping hard. But the surge of adrenaline is good, it's sexy and fun, and so he finds himself grinning as Chris yanks him into a gap between stages and pushes him against a wall.

"Security guard," he whispers, and he's right against Zach's ear again, the teasing fuck.

Zach presses his back against the wall and looks for a guy with a clipboard or a taser, even someone in a golf cart. It's partly to keep Chris at a distance, which turns out to be counterproductive as Chris is a bare inch from him and the buttons on their shirts catch and make the fabric slide like clouds over skin. Absolutely wretched, and plus he can feel the heat of Chris's body against him almost as solid as if they were actually touching, so what the hell. And as he keeps his breathing low, as he waits and waits, he sees nothing like a security guard anywhere.

Finally, Chris eases away from him. "He's gone."

"I didn't see anyone," Zach tries to protest, almost forgetting to hush his voice.

Chris hisses, his finger pressed to his lips in a shh motion. "It was the other way," he says, pointing to the side of the soundstage that Zach wasn't looking toward. He grabs Zach's wrist and pulls. "Come on, gotta go!"

Zach's pretty sure there was a chain link fence back there, but it's more fun if he doesn't know for sure.

The parking lot's pretty close now. Chris vaults the hood of a cherry red mid-life crisis and the alarm instantly starts to blare. Zach can't keep himself from laughing as he chases down the aisle, and when Chris leaps into his convertible, Zach ignores the fact that his own car's here somewhere and jumps into the passenger seat. Chris guns it, and they tear out of the spot with the wind suddenly rushing past and ruffling Zach's hair.

The security arm is down, red and white stripes firmly holding them in. Zach settles back against the seat and lets himself catch his breath - the insanity had to come to an end sooner or later.

And then Chris grips the steering wheel hard, braces his shoulders and floors it.

"What the fuck are you doing!" Zach shouts, looking frantically between the parking lot entrance and Chris.

"It's a fucking kidnapping!" Chris yells back. "Do up your seatbelt!"

Zach scrambles to do that, and up ahead in the parking booth, the booth dude waves at them. Slowly, the arm starts to rise.

His heart is pounding hard in his throat. It's too close. It's too close. "Slow down, you mental case!"

"Hey now," Chris says, not looking. "That's not confidence. I'm not hearing confidence."

They roar past the booth and under the arm, which rattles as they zoom past. "See ya, Mister Pine!" shouts the booth dude.

"See ya, Charlie!"

They rip down the Hollywood freeway, Chris dodging between other cars like it's some kind of slalom. "You are clinically insane," Zach says, and his voice cracks, but he's past caring.

"Focus!" Chris grins. "We need a hideout. Somewhere the paps won't find us, somewhere we never go."

Zach wracks his brain. "Steakhouse," he suggests.

Chris nods. "I like it! High end or shitty?"

"High end," Zach demands. "Can't deal with shitty steak, especially not while I'm trying to convince you to seek professional help."

Chris just laughs, and zooms past a police cruiser.

Zach can't help it - he waves.

The cop waves back.