|Happy birthday, roxymissrose: Tom/Michael RPS
||[Aug. 18th, 2009|07:52 pm]
For my beloved roxymissrose on her birthday!
Warning: RPS is not to everyone's taste. If it's not your thing, please skip this one :)
Disclaimer: No real people! Absolute make-believe from start to finish!
Plot: Tom plays a joke! (This story was inspired by Michael's remarks at a Con in July. After telling the story of Tom drawing naughty doodles on his script, Michael added:"I've gotten him back. I think I've pants-ed him a couple of times!")
The thing about Tom is, he looks innocent (though he's not) and he's generally sensible (but not always). It makes him a formidable prank adversary. Michael likes to play tricks on the spur of the moment; if Tom's standing near him, it's open season for ass-grabbing and tickling. Tom plans his pranks. But just when you get used to him planning, he does something purely spontaneous.
They're standing together in the catering line. Michael is dressed as Lex from the waist up, for a desk scene to shoot after lunch. It's an odd combo: Lex's silk shirt paired with his own sweat pants and sneakers.
When Michael turns to get some salad, he feels a quick tug on his waistband. It's Tom, dropping a baby carrot down the back of Michael's sweat pants.
Michael jumps; the carrot is fresh from the fridge and cold.
"Dude, that went right in my crack!"
"Serves you right for not wearing underwear," says Steve from Wardrobe.
"It feels like there's a goldfish swimming around in there."
"Yes, thanks for that image," says Steve.
When Michael reaches down his pants and rummages for the carrot, Tom starts laughing so hard that he has to steady himself on the table. John Schneider turns around and gives Michael a stern look:
"Hey! Take it to your trailer, Rosenclown! The rest of us want to keep our appetites."
Michael goes to his trailer, retrieves the carrot and comes straight back to Tom.
"Look. Look at this."
Tom obediently inspects the carrot in the palm of Michael's hand.
"Get to know that carrot, my friend," says Michael. "Because when you least expect it, it's going to turn up in your salad, or diced up in your sandwich. That's a promise."
Tom stares back at him, unblinking. Then he picks up the carrot and eats it in two bites.
"Dude!" said Michael. "That carrot was in my pants!"
Tom leans in, all intense:
"I have no fear of your ass-carrot."
"Now, there's a sentence I've never heard before," says Steve. Tom laughs again so Michael is compelled to poke him in the ribs, in the spot that makes him giggle.
It's the last flight to L.A. Michael takes a sip of his drink, opens his script and grins. Tom has been busy on every single page, creating storyboards that range from the surreal to pornographic. Tom's really excelled himself. It's a great prank, and it will also make for a great story. Michael is already rehearsing the telling in his head.
On Monday, Michael tells Nathalie:
"Tom drew obscene pictures all over my script. I'm gonna get him back."
"I'm sure you will," says Natalie, soaping his scalp.
"The passengers in my row were practically fainting," Michael tells Kristin. "Welling's going to get it."
"I see," says Kristin, gravely.
"I thought they were going to throw me off the plane!" Michael tells John Glover.
"Oh, did you?" says John. "My goodness."
"Tom's getting a pantsing," says Michael. "When he least expects it."
"That will be nice for you both," says John.
Every time Michael passes Tom on set, he makes a mock-threatening gesture. Tom looks back, implacable. He does jump once, when Michael passes close enough to deliver an ass pinch.
"Live in fear, Tommy," says Michael. "Play the trick and pay the price. Those pants are coming down!"
It's a long day of filming and by the end of it, Michael has forgotten all about pranks and revenge. He just wants to get out of his make-up and Lex-clothes and go home. One final stop in his trailer to collect his stuff and he's out of here.
There's a noise behind him; Tom is standing in the doorway. His cheeks are pink from washing off his make-up and his hair stands up in damp little spikes.
"Hey, buddy," says Michael. "Killer day."
Tom tilts his head:
"Have you forgotten something?"
"I remember that the Red Sox suck…no, I don’t think I've forgotten anything."
Tom comes closer. A waft of soap reaches Michael's nose.
"All day you've been threatening me with a pantsing," says Tom. "But I don't think you have the stones to do it."
This is smack talk. Michael understands smack talk. He says:
"Oh yeah, you just go on thinking that-" and reaches for the waistband of Tom's jeans.
Then instantly the situation is different. It’s just the two of them in the trailer, no crew to play to, and Michael's hands are resting on Tom's hips. For once, Michael doesn't know what to do; Tom looks amused at first, now he's just looking and they're still standing there.
Tom's face is serious now, and a little uncertain. They're moving towards each other. Michael's hands are still on Tom's hips and somehow Tom's hand is on Michael's back. Michael blinks: this new territory. Back away, salvage it with a joke or-
Or close his eyes and kiss Tom and feel Tom kissing him back. It's awkward at first, then one of Tom's hands is cupping Michael's head, and suddenly they fit together like they were designed for this. Michael tugs Tom closer, pulling him off balance; they stumble backwards and hit the trailer wall with a thump. Tom's thigh has found its way between Michael's legs and is pressing against him in a sensitive spot. It feels obscenely good and so do Tom's lips, and the muscles of his back through his t-shirt.
Michael gasps. Another minute of this and he's going to come, fully dressed, in his trailer, with a hundred crew members outside. And he's quite all right with that.
There's a thump on the trailer door:
"Yo, Rosey! We're locking the lot in two minutes."
"That's not enough time," murmurs Tom into Michael's neck.
Michael can only stare at him. Not enough time, no.
"Want to finish back at your place?"
Michael nods, then carefully drapes his jacket over his crotch as they walk to their cars.
In the parking lot, Tom pauses, key in car door, and glances back at him. Crew members are milling by; Allison and Kristin walk past, arm in arm.
"Hey Welling!" says Michael. "You know, I'm still going to pants you!"
"Not if I get you first!" shouts back Tom. Michael smiles, his back still warm from Tom's hands, lips still flushed from Tom's kiss.
Tom waves from his car and Michael prepares to follow. He can't take the grin off his face: Tommy might know a thing or two about tricks….but just wait until he gets a load of the tricks Michael knows in the bedroom.
"Your ass is mine, my friend," calls Michael. Within the next half hour, he adds in his head.