Karl, Harry sinclair and dougray Scott: a decent role
players only. the film referenced is Black Water Transit.
It's a decent role. A really fucking decent role. With actual clothes. And a filming location that's not in the middle of some godforsaken jungle. His agent's actually come through and Karl whistles softly as the man gives him the numbers. Christ. He'd have to be a fucking idiot to turn it down. Still, it's not his decision to make alone. There's two other votes to be counted. "Give me til morning?"
Having promised he'll call right after he gets in from his run, Karl turns off the downstairs lights and makes his way upstairs to where his lovers are lying on the bed, the both of them reading. He leans against the railing, watching them, until they finally look up. He grins. "Anyone feel like going to New Orleans?"
"Tonight? Not really. Joey downstairs makes a great chicory coffee and a passable beignet," Harry mutters, not looking up from his novel, sure an immediate departure wasn't what Karl had in mind but unable to resist the teasing comeback.
Setting down his pen, Dougray pulls off his glasses and rubs at the bridge of his nose. "Mardi Gras?" he asks, looking at Karl in question.
"It's summer," Harry says, nudging Dougray with his elbow. "That's in winter, back before Easter, unless we're getting an early start on next year, which isn't out of the realm of possibility."
"Right, right," Dougray nods. "I'll have to come up with some other excuse to wear that feather boa then."
That gets Harry to look up. Well, at least he glances over his book, shakes his head at Dougray. "I assume you have the garter and bustier to go with it? Stilettos?"
Dougray's eyes widen in mock horror. "God you must think I'm gay or something," he says, an instant before he dissolves into laughter.
"You're not," Harry exclaims, his horror just as mock, dropping his book to his lap. "Oh my god, Karl, we've corrupted a straight boy."
Karl exhales softly, more than a little exasperated, and shakes his head. "Never mind." He pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it in the laundry hamper. Drops his jeans and tosses those in too.
"Sorry," Dougray murmurs, biting his lip on a grin as his eyes roam appreciatively over Karl's body. "If you wanted my full attention, all you had to do was... well, that."
"Oh, yeah, that gets me." Harry throws back the coverlet. "C'mon, crawl in, tell us about our New Orleans trip."
With another sigh and shake of his head, Karl crawls in between them. "I got offered a decent film and that's where it's shooting," he says with a shrug.
Dougray blinks in surprise. "Congratulations," he says, beginning to work through the implications. "Only decent?"
"Eh," Karl shrugs again. "I get to wear more than a loincloth, Laurence Fishburne's signed, the book was fucking brilliant and I get paid nicely." He names a tidy sum and grins at them both.
Harry leans against Karl's shoulder. "Money and clothes, what more could an actor want," he murmurs. "Sounds good. Agent got off his arse. When you need to be there?"
The money doesn't mean much to Dougray, well-born git that he is. But his eyes go round at the mention of Laurence Fishburne. "When do you need to be there," he repeats Harry's question softly, "and are you still going to want to be seen with us once you've been nominated for an Oscar?"
"Be seen with us? Hell, if we don't get to do the red carpet with him, I'm leaving." Harry's teasing, of course, but he's rather good at mock indignation. "I haven't put up with him this long to not get that kiss for the cameras."
Karl laughs. "Two weeks and if I ever win a fucking Oscar, I'll want you both on my arm."
"I can handle two weeks, easy enough," Harry says, glancing over Karl to Dougray. "How difficult for you to get away?"
Dougray scratches his neck, right at the edge of his leather at-home collar. God, this is really it. He takes a deep breath. "Two weeks should be plenty of time, barring the unforeseen. I'll give my head assistant the good news about his promotion, first thing tomorrow."
Karl nods. "If it's not, you guys could always follow later," he says, not taking it for granted Harry would come with him if Dougray was delayed.
"We'll see," Harry murmurs, kissing Karl's cheek. "Dougray'll check things at work, I'll make plans to have the loft looked after and find a place there. If there's any delay, it'll only be a few days. Don't want you out of our sight too long."
"Think we could rent one of those big 19th century New Orleans houses?" Dougray asks Harry, excitement lighting his eyes. "You know, with the ghosts, and the voodoo?" He laughs and then scoots closer to Karl. "Congratulations," he says, giving him a soft kiss. "You've earned a great project like this."
"Yes," Harry says quickly, mind already working. "Oh, yes, ghosts and voodoo. I'm loving it already."
"Sure. Sounds good to me," Karl says, smiling at the kiss. "Thanks. It might actually be the break I've been waiting for." Or another huge fucking mess. But either way, at least the money's decent this time.
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