It Isn't Always Sunny, 1/1
Dec. 19th, 2010 09:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveTitle: It Isn't Always Sunny in Paradise
Author: james
Rating: PG
Pairing: Scott Caan/Alex O'Loughlin
Word Count: 1500
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made, no claims about real people doing real things is intended with this work of fiction
Summary: Scott gets a migraine. Alex provides comfort.
When he wasn't working, Scott could always tell when a migraine was creeping up on him, because he'd get tired and irritable and start craving water like a fish. When he's working 16 hour days in Hawai'i, he feels like that all the time, so when he got up from his chair to line up on his mark they'd taped on the sidewalk, he simply gritted his teeth and dug his inhaler out of his pocket, using the spray quickly and just forced himself to keep going.
They'd finished the walk-throughs that morning, so now it was one take after another while they took turns forgetting lines and the director adjusted cameras and marks a few inches each way until the glare from the sun was no longer aiming directly into the lens. Scott delivered his lines repeatedly and did his level best to ignore the way Alex was bouncing around like a seven year old on Pixie Sticks. Even Grace was glowering at Alex by the end of it, threatening to go on strike until Catering removed every piece of sugar from the buffet table.
Scott didn't think she meant it, as that would mean the chocolate as well, and he knew how often she snuck a piece of it when she thought no one was still counting. When they finally had a take the director was happy with, Scott took advantage of the word "break" and fumbled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket then headed slowly but directly towards the trailer.
Every footstep made his head feel like it was going to break loose from his neck and roll away -- which wouldn't be such a bad thing, he reasoned, because at least then he wouldn't be feeling it. By the time he reached the trailer door he could barely keep his eyes open, yanking open the door and praying that just for once nobody would call them back the second his ass hit the mattress.
He heard footsteps clambering up the steps behind him, but Scott was headed directly for the tiny bathroom, bending over it just in time to throw up everything from lunch. He stayed where he was, hearing the pained whimper strangled in the back of his throat because even making that much noise was killing him.
A cool wet cloth touched the back of his neck and Scott sighed. A hand ruffled lightly across his shoulder, then Alex was kneeling beside him. "Got more?" he asked.
"No, I'm good," Scott told him, still not eager to move. "I'm just going to die right here if that's OK."
"Would you rather die on the bed?" Alex asked.
"Yes, please." Scott closed his eyes and thought about moving, then before he could chicken out he forced himself to his feet. Alex had a hand under his arm, pulling him up and taking most of Scott's weight as he swayed on his feet. Alex was still holding the wet cloth to the back of his neck with one hand, and guided him through to the back of the trailer with the other on Scott's arm. At least Scott thought they were both Alex's hands; he couldn't be sure and quite frankly at the moment he didn't care. As long as he got to lie down and not move, the entire freaking crew could be crammed in here with them -- as long as they just kept quiet.
Alex helped him sit down, then Scott bowed his head and waited for his skull to peel open and drop his brain on the floor. He dug out his inhaler and gave himself a second dose -- he had no clue how long it had been but the first one clearly wasn't working. He dropped the inhaler on the side table, then he reached down, eyes squeezing closed nearly of their own accord, but Alex was crouching there and picking up each of Scott's feet. He undid the laces of Scott's boots, slipping each one off and not saying a word about how bad Scott knew his feet must stink, heavy boots after eight hours on his feet and Scott didn't want to even think about how long before he might get to take a shower.
Scott made a noise that was meant to be gratitude, and he could see well enough through the slits of his eyelids that Alex was smiling at him.
"Come on, lay down," Alex said softly, nudging at Scott's shoulder and lifting Scott's legs onto the bed. Scott went, willingly enough, then his head was on a pillow and his body was prone and Alex was putting another cool wet cloth across his eyes. The whimper that escaped him was half pain, half relief, and Scott lifted his hand clumsily to find Alex.
"You want me to stay, or leave you alone?" Alex asked, his voice still quiet and Scott had to wonder just when the hell Alex had learned all this, because Scott had only had one migraine since they'd started filming, and he'd suffered through that one on his own.
"Stay," he said, because if Alex knew how to keep quiet and bring wet cloths, then clearly he was a keeper and might even be able to bring Scott a fork he could stab through his eye.
There were some noises that Scott seemed to recognise, then Alex was easing himself across Scott's body and settling himself down onto the bed on Scott's other side with lots of bare skin brushing against his own. Scott grinned despite the pain, because of course he'd recognised those sounds. In the dark, eyes closed, or in the back of somebody's van and hoping no one came around and banged on the door.
Scott laid still for a moment, feeling the throbbing in his skull settle into a steady, ripping beat, then took a deep breath and rolled himself onto his side towards Alex. He felt Alex tense, clearly not sure what was expected of him, so Scott merely pushed and followed him back, then settled himself half on top with his head on Alex's chest. He was still wearing a t-shirt, and as Scott rested his hand on Alex's hip he could feel the thin cotton of Alex's underwear.
He thought about saying something about how often lately he'd been in bed with Alex with any clothes involved at all. But it was quiet and dark and the medication was finally feeling like maybe it was going to kick in, so Scott decided he didn't want to talk, didn't really want to move. He felt Alex's hand touch his back, then Alex began to rub slow, very light circles across his skin. The pained noise Scott made was less pained and more 'keep doing that forever' and Scott closed his eyes completely and let himself drift into the billow of pain.
When he woke up, he was lying on the narrow bed with his head on Alex's thigh, and a glance upward showed Alex thumbing through pages of script. Rewrites, from the color of them -- light purple, which Scott hadn't seen since last Thursday. Or Friday; he wasn't really sure only it hadn't been today so clearly they were new. Scott moaned softly at relearning a new set of lines and Alex glanced over at him and smiled, a half-screwed up grin that always made Scott want to kiss the ever-living stuffing out of him.
Scott scooted upright, then leaned against Alex and said, "Tell me they wrote Danny out and have changed the tagline to book 'em Chinno."
"Close, they're letting Kono do it. Grace is practising her gestures and asking if she can get her hair to do that thing." Alex's eyes flickered up to Scott's hair, and Scott didn't even want to know how badly it was standing up in every single direction.
"I don't even care if you're serious," Scott said, closing his eyes again and letting the bone of Alex's shoulder press into his cheek.
"Head still hurt?"
"I'm OK," Scott admitted, as the throb had settled down to a low ache. "But Danny's gonna be a little grumpy in this scene."
"We'll tell everyone that Steve made him sleep on the couch," Alex offered.
Scott rolled his eyes, but he was feeling better and the thought of walking out into the sunshine and noise only made him want to hide under the bed a little. He gave himself another few moments of resting against Alex and pretending he didn't have to go anywhere, ever. Then with another groan he sat up and took the new script pages from Alex.
"Why does this say 'in a bikini'?" he asked, pointing to the notation by Danny's name.
Alex just looked innocent, and Scott thought that maybe, just maybe, once his headache was gone and he'd forgotten how nice it was to snuggle, that he was going to kill Alex. Possibly in his sleep.
Then Alex leaned forward and gave him a kiss, and Scott forgot about finding his boots for a little while longer.
Author: james
Rating: PG
Pairing: Scott Caan/Alex O'Loughlin
Word Count: 1500
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made, no claims about real people doing real things is intended with this work of fiction
Summary: Scott gets a migraine. Alex provides comfort.
When he wasn't working, Scott could always tell when a migraine was creeping up on him, because he'd get tired and irritable and start craving water like a fish. When he's working 16 hour days in Hawai'i, he feels like that all the time, so when he got up from his chair to line up on his mark they'd taped on the sidewalk, he simply gritted his teeth and dug his inhaler out of his pocket, using the spray quickly and just forced himself to keep going.
They'd finished the walk-throughs that morning, so now it was one take after another while they took turns forgetting lines and the director adjusted cameras and marks a few inches each way until the glare from the sun was no longer aiming directly into the lens. Scott delivered his lines repeatedly and did his level best to ignore the way Alex was bouncing around like a seven year old on Pixie Sticks. Even Grace was glowering at Alex by the end of it, threatening to go on strike until Catering removed every piece of sugar from the buffet table.
Scott didn't think she meant it, as that would mean the chocolate as well, and he knew how often she snuck a piece of it when she thought no one was still counting. When they finally had a take the director was happy with, Scott took advantage of the word "break" and fumbled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket then headed slowly but directly towards the trailer.
Every footstep made his head feel like it was going to break loose from his neck and roll away -- which wouldn't be such a bad thing, he reasoned, because at least then he wouldn't be feeling it. By the time he reached the trailer door he could barely keep his eyes open, yanking open the door and praying that just for once nobody would call them back the second his ass hit the mattress.
He heard footsteps clambering up the steps behind him, but Scott was headed directly for the tiny bathroom, bending over it just in time to throw up everything from lunch. He stayed where he was, hearing the pained whimper strangled in the back of his throat because even making that much noise was killing him.
A cool wet cloth touched the back of his neck and Scott sighed. A hand ruffled lightly across his shoulder, then Alex was kneeling beside him. "Got more?" he asked.
"No, I'm good," Scott told him, still not eager to move. "I'm just going to die right here if that's OK."
"Would you rather die on the bed?" Alex asked.
"Yes, please." Scott closed his eyes and thought about moving, then before he could chicken out he forced himself to his feet. Alex had a hand under his arm, pulling him up and taking most of Scott's weight as he swayed on his feet. Alex was still holding the wet cloth to the back of his neck with one hand, and guided him through to the back of the trailer with the other on Scott's arm. At least Scott thought they were both Alex's hands; he couldn't be sure and quite frankly at the moment he didn't care. As long as he got to lie down and not move, the entire freaking crew could be crammed in here with them -- as long as they just kept quiet.
Alex helped him sit down, then Scott bowed his head and waited for his skull to peel open and drop his brain on the floor. He dug out his inhaler and gave himself a second dose -- he had no clue how long it had been but the first one clearly wasn't working. He dropped the inhaler on the side table, then he reached down, eyes squeezing closed nearly of their own accord, but Alex was crouching there and picking up each of Scott's feet. He undid the laces of Scott's boots, slipping each one off and not saying a word about how bad Scott knew his feet must stink, heavy boots after eight hours on his feet and Scott didn't want to even think about how long before he might get to take a shower.
Scott made a noise that was meant to be gratitude, and he could see well enough through the slits of his eyelids that Alex was smiling at him.
"Come on, lay down," Alex said softly, nudging at Scott's shoulder and lifting Scott's legs onto the bed. Scott went, willingly enough, then his head was on a pillow and his body was prone and Alex was putting another cool wet cloth across his eyes. The whimper that escaped him was half pain, half relief, and Scott lifted his hand clumsily to find Alex.
"You want me to stay, or leave you alone?" Alex asked, his voice still quiet and Scott had to wonder just when the hell Alex had learned all this, because Scott had only had one migraine since they'd started filming, and he'd suffered through that one on his own.
"Stay," he said, because if Alex knew how to keep quiet and bring wet cloths, then clearly he was a keeper and might even be able to bring Scott a fork he could stab through his eye.
There were some noises that Scott seemed to recognise, then Alex was easing himself across Scott's body and settling himself down onto the bed on Scott's other side with lots of bare skin brushing against his own. Scott grinned despite the pain, because of course he'd recognised those sounds. In the dark, eyes closed, or in the back of somebody's van and hoping no one came around and banged on the door.
Scott laid still for a moment, feeling the throbbing in his skull settle into a steady, ripping beat, then took a deep breath and rolled himself onto his side towards Alex. He felt Alex tense, clearly not sure what was expected of him, so Scott merely pushed and followed him back, then settled himself half on top with his head on Alex's chest. He was still wearing a t-shirt, and as Scott rested his hand on Alex's hip he could feel the thin cotton of Alex's underwear.
He thought about saying something about how often lately he'd been in bed with Alex with any clothes involved at all. But it was quiet and dark and the medication was finally feeling like maybe it was going to kick in, so Scott decided he didn't want to talk, didn't really want to move. He felt Alex's hand touch his back, then Alex began to rub slow, very light circles across his skin. The pained noise Scott made was less pained and more 'keep doing that forever' and Scott closed his eyes completely and let himself drift into the billow of pain.
When he woke up, he was lying on the narrow bed with his head on Alex's thigh, and a glance upward showed Alex thumbing through pages of script. Rewrites, from the color of them -- light purple, which Scott hadn't seen since last Thursday. Or Friday; he wasn't really sure only it hadn't been today so clearly they were new. Scott moaned softly at relearning a new set of lines and Alex glanced over at him and smiled, a half-screwed up grin that always made Scott want to kiss the ever-living stuffing out of him.
Scott scooted upright, then leaned against Alex and said, "Tell me they wrote Danny out and have changed the tagline to book 'em Chinno."
"Close, they're letting Kono do it. Grace is practising her gestures and asking if she can get her hair to do that thing." Alex's eyes flickered up to Scott's hair, and Scott didn't even want to know how badly it was standing up in every single direction.
"I don't even care if you're serious," Scott said, closing his eyes again and letting the bone of Alex's shoulder press into his cheek.
"Head still hurt?"
"I'm OK," Scott admitted, as the throb had settled down to a low ache. "But Danny's gonna be a little grumpy in this scene."
"We'll tell everyone that Steve made him sleep on the couch," Alex offered.
Scott rolled his eyes, but he was feeling better and the thought of walking out into the sunshine and noise only made him want to hide under the bed a little. He gave himself another few moments of resting against Alex and pretending he didn't have to go anywhere, ever. Then with another groan he sat up and took the new script pages from Alex.
"Why does this say 'in a bikini'?" he asked, pointing to the notation by Danny's name.
Alex just looked innocent, and Scott thought that maybe, just maybe, once his headache was gone and he'd forgotten how nice it was to snuggle, that he was going to kill Alex. Possibly in his sleep.
Then Alex leaned forward and gave him a kiss, and Scott forgot about finding his boots for a little while longer.