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03 August 2007 @ 02:45 pm
Fic: A Hot Day in the Valley  
A Hot Day in the Valley
Genre: RPF *gasp*
Pairing: michael trucco/ jr bourne
Rating: R
Words: 2700
Disclaimer: these are not really them. Really. They're OCs with familiar faces and share a few random facts with the actors. *nods* And I'm ignoring/altering certain facts which I know because -- NOT REAL (although I feel a bit guilty about some of it, until I remind myself that I'm not exactly writing biography here...)

NOTE: THIS IS NOT MY FAULT. It's their fault for being (a) HOT, and (b) buddies. If JR hadn't invited MT on stage at Burbank and they hadn't been so funny and HOT together (did I mention the hot?) together, my brain would never have gone to this dirtyBADwrong place. And it's also the fault of my child who has not let me get more than three hours of uninterrupted sleep in the last five days. But mostly, it's lyssie's fault. AGAIN.

It's not explicit but I'm still never going to be able to look either of them in the eye ever again.

Wondering what the hell had possessed him to walk when it was nearing a hundred degrees and the sun was only slightly less hot than sticking his head into a broiler, JR stayed on the other side of the street where there was more shade as long as he could.

As he crossed the street and the heat of the asphalt warmed his feet in his flip-flops, he thought of the cool rains of Vancouver and sighed. Most of the time he didn't regret the move, except when North Hollywood turned into an oven.

The five blocks to Michael's house hadn't seemed so far when he'd set out. Driving seemed ridiculous (he hadn't adjusted to LA that much), but now his car's air conditioner seemed like the smarter choice.

It was too hot to go out and do anything, but he had no food and his place was boring. He'd memorized his page for Monday's audition already, and if he stayed in his own house, he knew he'd end up vanity googling and that might unearth more things he'd rather not know about. So dropping by Michael's place had seemed like a good idea - Michael always had beer, and if he was lucky, Stacey would cook dinner.

Michael's lemon yellow Corvette in the driveway made him smile. He'd got it to celebrate being bumped up to regular, and JR hadn't stopped giving him shit about it yet. But at least it meant Michael was home - he'd put it in the garage if he was gone for awhile.

Avoiding the front door, he opened the wooden gate on the side and knocked on the kitchen door. "Michael? Stacey?"

There was no answer. The small window panels in the kitchen door showed that no one was in there. The door was unlocked, and he let himself in. For a moment he breathed in the cool air from the air conditioner, and then called, "Michael? You around?"

Michael's voice sounded kind of sleepy when he called back, "In here."

Leaving his sunglasses and cap on the table next to the door, JR ran a hand through his hair so the sweaty ends would dry and went to grab a beer from the fridge. The state of the kitchen made him frown. Usually it was spotless - Stacey would recite alarming statistics about bacteria whenever she caught anyone leaving a mess - but there were dishes in the sink and a pizza box on the counter. She must be away for the weekend.

Corona in hand, he wandered through the dining room and into the living room. The t.v. was on, showing a car race somewhere, but the sound was muted. Michael was on the couch, staring at the t.v. with a bottle in hand. He'd stripped off the label and made a nest of it on the side table.

The way he was slumped backward made him fill more space than seemed possible, like a tree had fallen over on the couch. He was wearing a black t-shirt and running shorts that looked like they'd been slept in. He also hadn't shaved in at least two days and his eyes were bloodshot when he flicked them upward. "Hey. Help yourself to my beer -- oh, I see you already did."

"I always do," he retorted, without guilt. "Especially when I lost two pounds in sweat alone, walking here." Corona wasn't his favorite, but that was as far as he'd been able to break Michael of the American habit of cheap watery beer. He frowned down at his friend. "You look like shit. Where's Stacey? I can't believe she'd let you turn into a slob."

Michael drank from the bottle and went back to staring at the t.v. "Gone."

"Gone where? For how long?"

Giving a humorless laugh, Michael answered, "Forever. She's gone." He threw something small at JR, who caught it reflexively against his stomach. It turned out to be her engagement ring.

"She left Friday. You should've been there -- it was quite something. Probably could've sold tickets." He snorted, trying for dry humor, but hitting only bitter.

JR didn't know what to say to that. Stacey had left him? He pitied Michael, but had to feel a little sorry for himself, because now he was going to have to find broiled fish with mango salsa as take-out from somewhere.

He settled himself on the other end of the couch. After a moment of weighty silence, he prompted, "So you had a fight?"

Michael gestured aimlessly with the bottle. "I just wanted to work, y'know? It's not my fault my full-time gig shoots in Vancouver. She told me it was okay, but apparently she changed her mind."

"She didn't like you traveling so much?"

He nodded. "And the fan thing. I like it, I think it's fun -- I guess she thinks it's kind of creepy or something. And then she said ..." he stopped abruptly and glanced at JR, before turning his attention back to his bottle. "Anyway, she said it wasn't what she signed on for, and I guess... " he shrugged, collapsing down in the couch more, "she has a point. I haven't really been home since June."

"I know," he said, a little more heavily than he meant and it left an awkward pause. He rushed on, with a teasing grin, "It's been so dull around here with no one to hang out with."

"No one to bother, you mean," Michael retorted.

Relieved that Michael hadn't made a thing out of how much he'd been missed (even if, God, it was like a graveyard when he was away; the phone really wasn't the same), he agreed easily, "That too."

Michael fiddled with the bottle some more before he added, "I can't say I didn't see it coming. I was just putting it off as long as I could." He gulped the last of his beer and put the bottle on the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Letting the silence hang a moment, JR said, "Sorry to hear that." He held up the ring to the light, admiring the glitter, before holding it out on his palm. "Here, at least she gave it back."

Michael glanced at it and grimaced, holding up a hand to ward it away. "I don't want it right now. I don't want to think of her, or talk about her anymore."

"Okay." He meant to put the ring on the side table near his beer, but it skidded on the slick surface and fell off. "Damn it." He bent to retrieve it, but Michael grabbed a handful of his shirt at the back and tugged him back up.

"Leave it. I'll find it later."

He lifted his brows at Michael. "You better, or the housekeeper's going to have a very generous bonus this year."

But Michael didn't smile, or pay any attention to the words at all. He was looking at him, blue eyes very intent on his face. And JR realized that Michael's hand was still wrapped in his shirt. He was much closer than he had been, with a knee pressing into his leg.

He wanted to say something sarcastic, return the moment to their usual banter, but no words would come. The silence dragged on, until he managed to clear his throat and ask, "What?"

"She said something else," Michael muttered. "I told her she was being jealous for no reason."

There was really only one way to take that, given how Michael was acting. "She thought... you and me?" He chuckled, but it came out forced and unnatural. His heart leaped and began pounding, as his mouth went dry. "That's ... ridiculous."

Michael nodded once. But he didn't move back or look away. "That's what I said."

"Good." Because that went places he didn't want to think about right now. Not when Michael was right there, arm half around him, still holding onto his shirt.

"But now I'm not sure," Michael murmured, and abruptly JR was going there in his head. He and Michael, as more than friends? Staring at Michael, it was as if the film suddenly reversed -- Michael still looked the same and yet strangely altered into someone else.

And it seemed he was feeling something similar. "I have to admit I've always thought ... that you," Michael said slowly, with careful enunciation, "have the most beautiful eyes."

Ridiculous how much the compliment warmed him. He felt a bit dizzy, and it was harder than it ought to be to tell himself that this was all wrong. He should put a stop to this. Michael was hurt and probably reaching out to hurt Stacey by proxy. Besides he was drunk and didn't know what he was doing. So he forced a smile. "Thank you. And you ... are very drunk."

But if that was supposed to put distance between them, it didn't work too well. Michael leaned even closer, near enough for his stale beer breath to waft into his nose, "Yeah."

He released JR's shirt, but only to put the flat of his hand along his side. His hand seemed to burn him through the thin cotton of his shirt. Distantly, he realized he should move away - this was a bad idea - but Michael's gaze and the feel of his hand splayed out on his back and flank held him motionless. His fingers were tingling with something akin to stage-fright, as Michael's left hand rose to cup the side of his head. There was nothing platonic in his eyes at all.

"I'm drunk. So what's your excuse?" he teased softly.

Fanfic had given him some interesting choices (once, Cliff had sent him a link to a Martouf and Baal 'alien sex pollen' story; which he'd read in horrified fascination and afterward, decided Cliff took a bit too much glee in Baal's fictional sex life). But he could hardly use alien sex pollen here, could he? So he suggested, barely a whisper, "Uh, heatstroke?"

"Good one," Michael murmured sarcastically.

"Shut up." To his own surprise, he was the one who broke the small distance between them. He had to lean forward, only a little bit, and close his eyes, and their mouths came together.

He knew they'd both done the guy-kissing thing on-camera, but at least to him, this was totally different. This wasn't pretend -- it was real and strong and devouring. Michael's lips were insistent and pressed his open, and when he tried to pull back a little, Michael's hands gripped him tightly, holding him in place. The thumb was stroking his cheek, in a little gesture that felt more intimate than his tongue.

He lifted his own hands to Michael's shoulders, to steady himself, but the feel of muscles was so different from what he unconsciously expected, the shock pooled in his belly. He could only clutch at him and keep him close to finish tasting his mouth.

Kissing him almost felt like a fight, trying to get what he wanted, while Michael tried to do the same. But the more he did it, the more his hands touched the firm strength under his fingers, the more he wanted.

Until finally by tacit agreement and need for breath, they parted on a gasp.

"Holy crap," Michael murmured, looking as stunned as he felt.

He licked his lips -- his upper lip stung from beard burn. Breath came unsteady. "Where did that come from?"

"She was right," Michael panted. "Damn it, she was right. Until she said it, I never even thought..." But despite his words, his left hand slid down JR's neck and across his collarbone. His other hand joined it to start unbuttoning his loose shirt. "And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since."

"You think?" he mocked.

Michael let it pass and pushed JR back against the couch, intent on the small buttons. "Sometimes. But not right now."

"Me neither," he admitted. Michael finished the last button and suddenly, his large hands were resting at the top of his shorts, warm on his belly, and he realized that if Michael moved his hands just a little lower... His breath caught in his chest and he bit his lip, trying not to imagine what it would feel like.

But instead Michael froze, and blue eyes were suddenly sober and hesitant, raising to meet JR's. "What the fuck are we doing?"

"You want to stop?"

"Well..." Michael frowned. "No."

"Do I look like I'm stopping you?" Considering he had let Michael take off his shirt, and he was leaning back with Michael practically on top of him, the answer was pretty obvious and Michael didn't even bother.

He still hadn't lost his frown though. "But -- don't you think we're a little old for experimenting?"

JR rolled his eyes. "You're hurting and drunk, and I'm here to help. Trust me, it's a cliché." He wrapped one hand around Michael's neck and urged him down. "You talk too much."

He was a bit more careful to keep his lips directly on Michael's this time so they wouldn't get rubbed raw on the sandpapery stubble. Michael seemed more willing to let him have his way, perhaps reassured that they were feeling the same way.

One hand was moving on his skin, fingers tracing loose circles on his stomach and then up his ribs. Michael pulled free, muttering, "This is kind of awkward, don't you think?" He shifted up onto his knees and JR had to move over a little, so Michael wouldn't fall off the couch when he straddled his legs. "There. That's better."

He looked up at Michael, large and muscular and unmistakably masculine, and for a heartbeat, seeing him there was so surreal he couldn't understand what was happening. He had the wild thought that maybe alien sex pollen existed after all.

But reality returned, when Michael's hands returned to his chest, and his fingers very slowly traced downward, as if counting each rib.

"I've watched you eat," he mused with a smile, "I still can't figure out where it goes."

"Well, we can't all be blessed with -- oh," the vocalized gasp slipped free, when Michael's hand didn't stop like he'd expected, sliding across the front of his shorts. A jolt went through him - surprise and shock mostly, but the brush of his fingers woke a deep-seated hunger.

Michael smirked at the reaction, and eyes alight with mischief, he did it again. This time, his hand lingered, exploring as much as he could. With every touch, second thoughts paled into ghost-like transparency and blew away, until nothing else mattered any more. Only Michael's hands, and his body, and those blue eyes watching his every flicker of expression. His grin suggested this was the most fun he'd had in weeks.

But soon the touch was too light, separated by two layers of fabric. Wanting more pressure, he tried to squirm, but Michael's weight was heavy on his legs. More annoyingly, he couldn't reach past Michael's knees to torment him back. When he saw what JR was trying to do, Michael's grin widened smugly. "Having a problem?"

"You're a tease."

Leaving off the petting, Michael braced himself on both arms and leaned forward. The low murmur made him shudder. "But you like it."

"Yeah." Now he could reach Michael's shoulders again and pulled him down to show him just how much.


Later, much later, they were in Michael's bed, and the air conditioner was doing its best to cool the heat and sweat from them.

With vague thoughts about how he should probably clean up and go get something to drink, he was content to look at the ceiling and feel Michael's hand on his leg, one finger drawing lazy patterns on his skin.

Michael broke the silence. "So. If we do a con together, how long before people guess the truth, you think?"

The suggestion that this wasn't a one-time thing came as a surprise, but a good one. For a moment, he started spinning ideas for how they could spend more time together. First, he'd have his agent look for more Vancouver-based work again when Michael was filming up north. And he should accept that DragonCon invite. And...

Then he chuckled at the naivete of the question. Like the truth mattered in this crazy business. He'd never googled his name with Michael's, but he wouldn't be shocked if something turned up.

Fans were just like that.

--- end ---

Well, that was three days of writing and manip-making probably better spent doing other things. But at least it's done so I can get on with the rest of my (fannish) life.
Current Mood: guiltyguilty
entertaining in a disturbing way: Alex lick herelyssie on August 3rd, 2007 11:30 pm (UTC)
Oh, I think I'm love. *happysigh* Hot boys! beer! Sex and angst! And humor! Lots of humor, which made me giggle madly. Not to mention the last two bits, because, well, yes.
lizardbeth: Bourne Truccolizardbeth_j on August 4th, 2007 02:07 am (UTC)
Hee! It's probably not as funny as they would actually be, but I tried. Making fun of slash conventions never gets old.

I had a bit where JR asks what Michael would say if Stacey walked in on them, and Michael answers, "Role research. Anders and Helo get it on in 412." Which led into a few lines mocking the idea of those two huge guys doing it (since I know JR and Tahmoh worked together). It didn't fit, but I was amused.
entertaining in a disturbing way: PILOTSlyssie on August 4th, 2007 02:40 am (UTC)

*uses appropriately photoshopped icon*

See, the thing is, that would be really awesomely hilarious. And possible. And there should be Sam and Helo kissing. Yes.
lizardbeth: Bourne Truccolizardbeth_j on August 4th, 2007 03:36 am (UTC)
for the sequel "A Rainy Day in Vancouver"... the filming of episode 412, with Michael totally not kidding about the Helo/Anders scene, and JR in town to do a guest spot on, uh, Bionic Woman, and hanging out on the BSG set and being all "I am NOT jealous, not at all."

entertaining in a disturbing way: PILOTSlyssie on August 4th, 2007 04:13 am (UTC)
Katee wants to watch...


Also, now I'm contemplating Martouf/Sam Anders.
lizardbeth: Bourne Truccolizardbeth_j on August 4th, 2007 04:54 am (UTC)
Katee and Grace bring popcorn and make snarky inappropriate comments from off-camera. It would be awesome. If somewhat, er, unlikely.

Ah, that works with your Sam/Kara doesn't it? I see how that one came about.

So hot.
entertaining in a disturbing waylyssie on August 4th, 2007 05:52 am (UTC)
Obv. there will be popcorn. when am not sleepy.

also, yes, sorta. *goes to bed*
entertaining in a disturbing waylyssie on August 3rd, 2007 11:33 pm (UTC)
two small wee edits:

Kissing him almost felt like a fight, trying to get what he wanted, while Michel tried to do the same. But the more he did it, the more his hands touched the firm strength under his finfers, the more he wanted.


Leaving off the petting, Michael braced himself on both arms and leaned forward. The lwo murmur made him shudder. "But you
like it."

lizardbeth: Bourne Truccolizardbeth_j on August 4th, 2007 01:54 am (UTC)
thanks. There were several more where that one came from. :/