Therapy Boys II

[wouldbedorothy]

Disclaimer:  Don't know Gale or Randy... or Simon or Kim... These are my own characterizations and not based on any real life status or events... It's *fiction*, baby!

Title: Therapy Boys, Part II:  Filling The Prescriptions
Author: AHS
Pairing: G/R
Series/Sequel: part 2/4.5
Summary: Set in 2006, a year post-filming.  In this part, G and R are reunited and start talking 'bout some stuff.  Somewhere in the vicinity of 4000 words.  POV keeps alternating.
Warnings:  My only expertise re: psychiatrists lies in having spoken to a few, so I just write them how I need them!
Author's Notes:  Thanks to freakykat for encouraging me to have Gale swear more, lol.

Part II: Filling The Prescriptions

Randy’s POV. That same night.

“Dr. Matthews? Jocelyn… It’s Randy Harrison.”

“Randy, you never call me at home. Something big happened, huh? Did you call Gale?”

“I was going to. But, you won’t believe it. He called me first.”

“That’s great! What did he say?”

“He’s coming here. This weekend, I think. God, it’s happening…”

“I’m very excited for you, Randy. At the least, the two of you need to talk again.”

What did she mean ‘at the least’? “But I don’t know about this. He told me something else. He and Kim broke up.”

“I see… That is interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“Just… the timing. Do you know who broke up with whom?”

“He didn’t say. He sounded okay, though. He sounded… good.”

“So, were you just calling to tell me the news, or…?”

“I’m not sure what to do about Simon. Since he’ll be away on his business thing anyway, do I just keep Gale’s visit a secret? Or do I tell him and deal with the jealousy? You know how crazy he gets over Gale.”

She got her stern voice on. “Is it crazy for him to be jealous of Gale?”

Point taken. “Maybe not, if he would accuse me of something, but he doesn’t. He accuses Gale.”

“Of what?”

“Everything from being secretly gay and in love with me, to being some kind of manwhore… the straight version of Brian… who’s slept with all the women and now has no choice but to start with the men, me first.”

“And is it the untruth of Simon’s accusations that bothers you, or that part of you wishes they were true?”

Silence from me.

“Well,” she finally went on, “something to ruminate on. I can’t tell you what to tell Simon or not, only you can…”

“I have to tell him. It’s stupid to hide or lie over something as innocent as an old friend coming to visit.”

Silence from Dr. Matthews, then…

“I’ll see you in my office next week, Randy. Give my best to Gale.”

“Yeah, like I’m going to tell him about you.”

She laughed. We hung up. I stayed awake for hours, panicking. Until I fell asleep and had possibly my most vivid Gale sex dream to date. I never knew how I managed to avoid moaning his name in my sleep, but I’m guessing if I did, Simon wouldn’t wake me up quite the way he does. I always feel guilty when a dream about Gale turns into sex with Simon, but I’m not sure if it’s more guilt on Simon’s behalf… for thinking about Gale like that, with this man I’m committed to sharing my bed… or, bizarrely, on Gale’s behalf… that my erection, meant for Gale, is basically property of Simon, to do with as he pleases. *Sigh*… I am such a freak.

Gale’s a freak, too. Just a few days and he’ll be here.

**********

Four days later. LaGuardia Airport, NYC.

Gale had offered to just take a cab to the apartment himself, but I decided to risk the possibility of QAF fans in baggage claim and pick him up. While I would have preferred to reunite with him in private, that in itself was reason enough to make sure we were in a public place. After about ten minutes of craning my neck, I could see him walking towards me. The noise, the crowds, everything I hated… He cut through all that. He hadn’t seen me yet, and the moment he did, he got this goofy smile that took me over so completely, we could have been the only ones there. We each struggled past the people in our way, pushing and excusing, until we were right there, in front of each other.

“Hey stranger,” he said.

“Hey.” I was too busy drinking in how good he looked to say anything more scintillating. His hair was just a little bit shorter and lighter than when the show ended, and to make up the difference he had grown the slightest shading of beard. It was sexy as hell. Went nicely, too, with the dark sunglasses he had on. What an outsider might take for Hollywood style, I understood to be his shyness… that he wore them, both to not be recognized and to not have to look people in the eye. Still, I teased him.

“Don’t you know the sunglasses just make people stare at you harder trying to figure out who the big important celebrity is?”

“Well, let them all be disappointed.” He took the glasses off and I swallowed a gasp, feeling so lucky that he has no problem looking into my eyes. His should have been tired and bleary from the long flight, but they were just beautiful. I couldn’t believe it had been a year since I’d witnessed that magical, ever-changing hazel. Gale’s mood ring eyes, I’d called them.

Before I could deduce the color of his current mood, I found myself enveloped… in his arms and his smell, and I could feel the roughness of facial hair tickling my temple. I squeezed him harder and he did the same to me.

“Think it’d cause a scene if I picked you up and spun you around?” Gale breathed in my ear.

“It would be worth it,” I whispered back.

He didn’t spin me, but he did hug me to his full height, lifting me up a little. And, I may have imagined it, but I think he smelled my hair.

“I fucking missed you, Rand.”

“I know… I missed you, too.”

“So why did it take us a year to do this?” he asked, setting me back down. “And why have we hardly talked to each other?”

“I don’t know. I called you once. You called me once. We both suck.”

“Yeah, we do. But at least my call got me here.”

Finally noticing that he’d gotten his bag already, I looped my arm through his. I didn’t even point out that I’d been two seconds from making the same call to him. However it happened, I was just glad to be with him. “You rock, Gale. C’mon, let‘s get out of this madhouse.”

As we walked out, leaning on each other, I noticed an older woman watching us. She looked pointedly at Gale, smiled and winked, then went along her merry way.

“Friend of yours?”

“She sat next to me on the plane. She was a fan of the show… It was okay,” he said, laughing softly at my fearful-of-being-sat-next-to-a-crazy-QAF-fan expression. “Really. She’s obsessed with Michael & Ben. She just thought we were nice.”

“Nice?” I was, irrationally, almost insulted. No offense to Hal and Bobby, but how could you be more into them than Gale and me?

“Cheer up. She seemed to like us more once I told her I was coming here to see you.”

I stopped, grabbing his arm. “Gale, you didn’t… Did you?”

He just smiled. “No, I didn’t… She guessed all on her own.”

*****

I would have thought we’d get the small talk out of the way in the cab, but we didn’t. He put an arm around my shoulder, I slipped both of mine inside his coat and around his waist, and I rested my head in his neck. We just sat like that the whole way. Traffic was a bitch, and for once I was glad for it. For that, and for the fact that Gale and I seemed not to have lost our ridiculous level of comfort with each other… with each other’s bodies, in each other’s space. We’d always had that, and even when things got… hard… from time to time, something about us was just so beautifully easy. And so we sat, and breathed, and tried to absorb a missing year of each other.

“Oh… we’re here,” I noticed, almost reluctantly, when the cab finally pulled to a stop in front of my building.

I remember vaguely batting Gale’s hand away when he tried to pay the driver, and me doing it instead (“My town, my treat”), but then my mind blurs a bit in my excitement. I don’t remember getting out of the car, the walk inside, or the elevator to my floor. I do, however, remember opening the door to my apartment, Gale going in, and me desperately wanting to say, “Welcome home.”

I didn’t. But… shit. I knew I was in trouble.

**********

Randy’s apartment. Gale’s POV.

I felt at home right off the bat… mostly. Probably because the apartment was made up of him… his likes, his memories, his life. Everything precious to me. It even smelled like Randy. Small things here and there… a tacky piece of art Randy would never own, some writing award plaque, or a picture frame with the smiling happy couple inside… scratched at my skin and my sanity like loose hairs under your collar after a haircut. Reminding me that Simon wasn’t gone, only away.

“Real nice place, Rand.”

“Thanks. Here, let me take your bag and show you your room.” He hauled my duffel onto his shoulder and walked past the kitchen into a little hall. I followed.

“I get a room? I kind of figured I’d be riding the couch.”

“No, there’s a spare room. Although, guests aren’t exactly common occurrence, so I’ve been using it as more of a mini-library.”

Turning into a room and switching on the light, I saw what he meant. It was a beautiful bedroom with pale blue paint, a large, comfortable looking bed I tossed my coat on, and full bookcases lining all four walls. There were still books left over, and they were stacked neatly in piles.

I laughed. “You’ve read all of these, haven’t you?”

“Most of them. Not all.” He gave my doubting look a shrug. “Some of them are Simon’s.”

I knew I should be a good friend and ask about Simon, ask how they were doing, but I just couldn’t manage it. Instead, I let Randy finish giving me the tour of the place, only really taking note of which door was the bathroom, then made my way to the living area and collapsed on the sofa.

“You want something to drink?” he called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, thanks.”

He didn’t bother asking what, bringing out two open, frosty cold bottles of beer. Believe it or not, I don’t drink beer that much, but when I’m really thirsty and the beer’s really cold, there’s nothing better, and Randy knew that. I took a long gulp and watched his smile dance at my “aaahh” of refreshment.

“So… what have you been up to?” He hopped up on the arm of the couch, facing me.

“What have you heard?”

“Nothing really.”

Randy sounded a little sad when he said it. I started talking about the acting I’d been doing the past year and he brightened instantly. Indie film here and there. A couple episodes of The Unit that would be airing soon. Knock on wood, the possibility of a new series. He’s always so damn proud of me, whether the project is shit or gold. He clinked his bottle to mine and said he couldn’t wait to see it all. Then he followed with, of course, how nothing in TV or film could compare to the theater… only half joking.

“I did hear about Equus… Wow. I’m, uh… sorry I didn’t get to see it.” I know I could have made an effort to go, but I was a coward on that, too. Randy on stage… in a very intense role… naked… sans cocksock, ladies and gentleman… and… I was not ready to be jealous of a horse.

He talked about the play so passionately, I felt guiltier for not having gone. Creatively speaking, Randy could be hard to please, and I just loved the way he lit up and hummed with energy and babbled so intelligently about work that really excited him. He said he might be doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream next. I said I’d have to make sure I caught a show of that, just to see him kiss a girl. He laughed and kicked me lightly.

I wondered if I would be jealous of the girl.

“Have you seen anyone else from the cast?”

I should have thought about my answer to this. But I started listing name after name, when I saw them, what we talked about. It wasn’t like I was hanging out with everybody all the time, but I’d seen nearly all of them at least once. Those living in L.A., a little more. Michelle, we’d have lunch now and then. Hal, some, when he wanted to try out a new standup bit on me. Scotty, a few times. Too late, I noticed how Randy’s face had fallen. “What about you?”

“Not… really. Sharon came to see Equus once, and I email with Peter pretty often, but…” He let that sentence drop, and came at me with what he really wanted to know. “Why have you been talking to and getting together with everybody but me?”

Fuck. I opened my mouth to say something, but it would have been bullshit, and I don’t bullshit Randy. So I closed it again.

“Well?”

His voice wasn’t accusing, but soft, and cracked with hurt… which is much worse. Fuck. Did I even know the answer? I was working on knowing the answer. Hell, I knew well enough. Isn’t that why I‘d gotten on the damn plane?

“I’m sorry,” I said. “And I want to talk about that, Rand. I really do. I have a feeling we’re going to end up talking about it a lot. But not right now, okay?”

He blinked at me. “Then when, Gale?”

I took my last sip of beer and forced myself to speak with confidence. “Tonight. Tonight, we’ve got nothing but time. But right now I am fucking starving! Puny bag of pretzels and half a disgusting sandwich on the plane has not cut it.” Besides, I thought, my shrink prescribed that we eat.

Randy took a minute, looking at me. I think he saw honesty in my eyes, that I meant it when I said we would talk. And then he loosened, and smiled.

“Fine. I guess I do have to feed my guest.” He got up and found the phone book, flipping it open to a billion take-out restaurants. “What do you want?”

**********

Randy’s POV

I talked Gale into Chinese, pointing out how it shows up at your door faster than any other kind of take-out. Within twenty minutes, we were eating. Within forty-five, we were sprawled out on my carpet, fat and happy, opening our fortune cookies.

“What are you giggling at?”

“What?” I startled at his voice.

“Your fortune that funny?”

“No.”

“Naughty? You look a little pink, too.”

I just couldn’t help it. Anytime I opened a fortune cookie, I heard the words “up you” in my head… accompanied by thoughts of Gale‘s lap. Damn you, Justin.

“No, it’s lovely, actually… Art is the accomplice of love.”

“That’s deep, Rand. Not what I’d call a fortune, but deep. Good one for you.”

“What does yours say?”

He pulled out the little strip and read to himself. “Motherfucker.”

“It says that?” I laughed and he chucked a wonton at me.

“That would be better than this… Digital circuits are made from analog parts… What the fuck is that?”

“What’s wrong with it? You like circuits and… parts… right?”

“Just because I’m mechanically inclined doesn’t mean I think that’s a cool fortune. I want ‘You will go on a journey, happy long time’ or some shit like that. Something that at least tries to tell the future.”

“I’ll call the China Dragon and lodge a complaint.”

“Nah, s’okay. I went on my journey today, so…”

I was just about to bring up the “happy long time” and make him finally tell me how long he was staying, when he jumped up and asked me for a lighter. I should have known he was long overdue for a smoke break. He offered to go outside, but I told him he could smoke out the window and I’d join him. Gale wrestled with the window, winning out and blasting us both with the cold air. I tossed him my pack of cigarettes, but again I should have known. He pulled a joint out of, I swear, the waistband of his jeans, where airport security apparently did not search. I sparked us up.

We smoked and talked, through chattering teeth, about new music we liked, politicians we didn’t, everything and nothing. It was like old times in the Toronto cold, warming myself with Gale’s company and conversation between scenes. He offered his condolences regarding JT LeRoy, partly teasing, but still meaning it.

The cats ventured out at last to welcome the guest. They always hide at first (well, Ella hides, Aggie sizes you up), but suddenly they were presenting themselves to Gale’s legs and rubbing shamelessly, begging for his love. I had to admire the way they just went for it. He reached down and stroked their fur for a minute, then informed me he was going to take a piss. I chuckled and quickly cleaned up, throwing the empty food containers away. I pulled out a bottle of wine, had second thoughts… then third, and got out glasses, too. I took wine and glasses to the coffee table, sat and poured. Then he walked out, and he’d kicked off his shoes, and I had to take a drink. Because Gale’s sexiness doubles when he is barefoot.

“So what made you call?” I asked, as he sat cross-legged on the couch beside me.

“I missed you,” he said simply, taking a glass.

“That’s it?” Though I know, at least to me, that was a lot.

“It’s been a fucking year, Rand. The America’s Funny Videos call doesn’t count. What the fuck was that, anyway?”

“I don’t know. It was an impulse. I was alone that morning, Aggie had her little moment, and I thought, ‘Who’s willing to listen to me go on about silly, stupid shit?’ I thought of you.” Or maybe it was because of the dream I’d just woken up from… but I didn’t say that.

“Well then, thank you, Aggie,” he directed to the cat, “for giving Randy something to say to me.” Aggie meowed in acknowledgment, and Gale redirected to me. “Funny thing, though. That clip you sent me was dated a week before you called.”

Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. “Okay, asshole. Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice. I don’t know why the lame excuse, except I thought it would make you laugh.”

“Why did you get all weird and hang up when I mentioned Simon?”

“What? I didn’t. I probably just had something to do.”

“Sure.” He didn’t seem to believe me, but he let it go. “Speaking of, when’s Simon coming back? I should probably be gone before then.”

“Then there’s no rush,” I said, slightly mumbled.

“What does that mean?” Gale tugged my hand away from my mouth, where my thumbnail had taken up nervous residence between my front teeth.

“It means Simon’s not coming back. We, uh… we broke up.”

**********

Gale’s POV

I almost choked on my wine but tried to pass it off as a cough. I felt Randy‘s hand pat my back. “You broke up?” My eyes scanned the room, still seeing the touches of Simon.

Randy followed my eyes, understanding. “I know, right? But it just happened.”

He reached past me to turn over a picture of them that sat on the end table. I made myself concentrate on his words, not his warmth pressed close, and watch his hands, not his mouth right in front of me.

“We’ve had a few breakups before. Several, actually,” he admitted. “But it felt different this time.”

“How?”

“Felt like… there was nothing else to be done. It’s finished.”

“And you’re okay with that?” I searched the blue staring back at me. He was sad, but not depressed like I might have thought.

“Not completely. But I was less okay the way things were.”

I slid a hand onto the back of his neck, squeezing gently the warm and the tense. I brought his head down to my shoulder, and we leaned back into the sofa cushions.

“What the fuck happened, Rand? You were together… years.” Didn’t I know it.

“And it was good. But there were problems that didn’t go away, and it just all came to a head.”

“When?” I had a suspicion. I hoped I was wrong.

“Monday… night.”

I wasn’t wrong. “After I called you? Fuck. He got pissed because you told him I was coming, right?”

I could hear him silently deciding whether or not to lie, before going with the truth. “Yes.” He peered up and saw the face I must have been making. He touched a finger to my chin. “Don’t blame yourself.”

I jumped up at that. “I don’t! I fucking blame Simon! I always knew he had to be a good guy or you wouldn’t have loved him…” My teeth hurt from gritting them through those last words. “… like you did. But he always tried to make you feel guilty for being friends with me, and that’s not fucking right!”

“But you’re the one here with me now,” Randy pointed out calmly, taking firm hold of my hand, even as it kept forming and unforming a fist in my anger. He pulled me back down and wrapped me in a hug. His chin dug deliciously into the groove between my shoulder and neck, and his hand rubbed circles on my back.

Damn. Shouldn’t I be the one comforting him?

“Simon… I’ll start sending him boxes of his stuff on Monday. I’m keeping the apartment. After we exhausted the fight, we ended pretty amicably, and we decided that.”

“That’s good. If you were homeless, I’d have to drag you kicking and screaming back to L.A. with me.” My laugh was a little awkward as we pulled back. Maybe because I wasn’t kidding, and I think he knew it.

“God, no,” he said, sticking his tongue quickly out at me. “Sweet thought, but… I, uh… started to say Kim wouldn’t like that any more than I would. I forgot… you said you broke up.” He scratched his head, his face darkening with sympathy. “I’m going to need some details now, please.”

“Details?”

“Well… only as much as I gave you, I suppose.”

“Which wasn’t much.” Good thing, too. What the fuck could I say. “Uh… was a few weeks ago, maybe a month. I ended it.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing. It just… wasn’t gonna go anywhere. She was starting to hint about marriage, and I… I just couldn’t give her that.”

“I thought you wanted to get married.”

“Hypothetically, yeah, I think so. But…” I let the thought trail off, distracted by that adorable crease in his forehead, between his brows, that shows up when he’s confused.

“Do you mean you didn’t love her?” he asked.

I thought about it, but just for a moment. “No, I did. But… something was just missing.”

The crease smoothed. “Like with Simon?”

“Yeah.”

We sat for a beat, my knee against his thigh… his fingers skimming my hair, righting a stray piece. I closed my eyes briefly, until he spoke.

“We are a couple of sad-assed lonelyhearts, aren’t we?”

“My ass isn’t sad,” I said, straight-faced. “It’s very happy to be here.”

“Yeah? Let me see.”

Randy pushed at my hip, and I laughingly raised up so he could see… and then, for good measure, smack my ass. I about bit through my lip to keep from asking if it felt happy, too.

“You’re crazy,” I told him.

“Ooh, Jocelyn would tear you up. She doesn’t like that word.”

“Who’s Jocelyn?”

He looked like he really hadn’t meant to mention this person. “Oh… Dr. Jocelyn Matthews. My, uh… therapist.”

No shit. “You have a therapist?”

“Yes, Gale. I know it’s not something you would do, but…”

“Actually…”

“No shit?”

No fair reading my mind. “Just recently.”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to ask this, but… what do you talk about?”

Here it was. Fuck. Where the hell did I begin?