Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It feels so good to touch you again, man,” Aaron said. 

He had one hand clasping Bryan’s shoulder while the other cupped the opposite side of Bryan’s face: full beard, smiling, and—thank God, finally —mask-less and in the flesh. The last time they’d seen one another outside of the world of their phone and computer screens had been early March of 2020, nearly a full year ago. 

Bryan playfully smacked the patio table between them, feigned clearing his throat just a bit louder than the Eagles song playing from Aaron’s outdoor speakers and gestured to Aaron. “I’m sorry, excuse me, but I’m going to need to see yours.”

As if they hadn’t already embraced each other in Aaron’s driveway like a couple of reunited long-lost brothers. Or maybe lovers. There was and had always been a little bit of both thrown in there. And it had certainly been a welcoming embrace: whooping and hollering, Lauren had hugged him and even little Story too around his calf, both of them on their way to go shopping. Briefly there’d been a group hug with all four of them. Bryan was pretty sure he’d kissed Aaron’s cheek at some point; par for the course but most definitely sweeter considering their only recent freedom.

Aaron snorted. “Show you mine if you show me yours?”

He didn’t wait for a reply before he rolled the sleeve of his dark red button-down shirt half way up his slim bicep where a tiny ruddy dot shared space with a cluster of freckles, like the top of a satellite amid a constellation of stars in an Albuquerque desert night sky. He was quite freckly. Sporting new ones Bryan didn’t remember. When you spent a lot of time in a guy’s trailer, chances were you saw him shirtless a time or two or fifty. 

He thumbed a line of them—Orion's Belt—above Aaron’s elbow. “You been getting a lot of sun recently?”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “’Course. I’m outside any second I can after last year. It’s amazing.”

Bryan nodded, scrunching up the end of his Dos Hombres t-shirt sleeve to reveal evidence of his own COVID vaccine. The world was once again open, safely, cases nearly non-existent. Of course, one of the first people Bryan wanted to see was Aaron.

Bryan would have arranged to take Aaron out for a meal if his visit weren’t also business related; two pieces of business to be exact, though Aaron only knew about the one. 

So as not to be cooped up inside, it had been Aaron’s idea to sit in Aaron’s “backyard.” 

“Did I hear this is where Coachella’s been moved to this year?” Bryan had asked earlier, gesturing to the obscene amount of space, palm trees, rustic water feature, hammocks, granite outdoor seating area and fire pit.

Aaron had glanced down while scratching the stubble along his jawline: modest, endearing, Aaron. “Nah, they told me it was too much space. I think they didn’t want people getting lost. Lawsuits and all that.”

Bryan was nodding rapidly. “Right-right.”

Cracking a grin, Bryan let Aaron elbow him a little like old times, ragging on each other like they were still speculating whose character was going to kill the other off near the end of the show. Bryan missed that.

“Just sit down, asshole. We bought you that smelly, Belgian cheese you like.”

Bryan had never seen such an elaborate charcuterie board: bacon-wrapped pitted dates, peppered Italian salami, prosciutto, fresh mixed berries, half of a fluffy baguette paired with what looked to be some sort of jalapeño-peach jam, and at least eight varieties of cheeses, all in different varieties of exquisite stink.

“Lauren outdid herself,” Bryan said.

Aaron smiled and popped a green Castelvetrano olive in his mouth. “Woman takes her cheese boards seriously.”

Where did he even get an olive? Bryan spotted another by a sprig of grapes and snatched it. 

The idea of Lauren preparing this spread for the two of them felt intimate in a way Bryan couldn’t put a finger on. Maybe it was the way she’d said, “You two have fun,” and winked at him before getting in her car. Almost felt like he was on a date. Aaron had even chosen a classic rock playlist on Pandora, something called “Dad Rock” that made Bryan feel both old and young.

“You would either be appalled or proud of how many peanut butter sandwiches I’ve had in the past year. This is a welcome change. Please thank her for me.”

“Man, thank her yourself when she’s back from Melrose. No way you’re cutting out before dinner.” 

Bryan hummed in acknowledgement around a bite of bread and jam. It was only just past three In the afternoon but he was in no rush to leave: sun was out, just a bit of a breeze, perfect LA weather and company.

“I missed you,” Bryan said. 

He was smiling of course, but maybe it had come out a little more sincerely than he’d intended. 

“Same,” Aaron said, expression soft. He snickered and emphatically patted the large box to the right of their feast; Oaxaca return address. Both him and the box practically radiated with excitement. “But like come on. Don’t keep a dude waiting .”

Bryan rubbed his palms together. “Right. Let’s crack this baby open.”

Using his car key, he sliced into the packing tape. 

“You got this like what, three days ago? Why didn’t you open it?”

Bryan opened his mouth in mock outrage. “And not wait for you?”

Aaron chuckled while Bryan removed several layers of earth-friendly Styrofoam-alternative packaging and a sophisticated coolant mechanism before digging out a small bottle of what would hopefully be their new mezcal. 

“Still a little cold,” Aaron said, touching the coolant contraption. “Stuff reminds me of ‘Jurassic Park’.”

Bryan tugged out the cork. “I’m sorry, but the reference is lost on me.”     

Aaron scoffed. “You know, like the shaving cream cans where Nedry’s supposed to hide the frozen dinosaur embryos.” When Bryan’s face remained blank, Aaron scoffed again. “Dude, that movie like fucking blew my mind when it came out. It was like one of the first sort of scary movies my parents let me see with just my friends in theaters.”

Bryan saw an opening here. A transition of sorts to talk to Aaron about the other business venture. But he didn’t want to jump the gun. He still had time anyway.

“When did that come out?”

Aaron tapped the screen of his phone a few times. “Summer of ’93. Right before my fourteenth birthday. Good summer.”

Bryan grinned and poured them each a sampling’s worth. “One of your skateboarding years? Chasing girls, auditioning for church plays? Bleaching the ends of your hair?”

He got Aaron laugh-clapping, toasted his glass to him, and decided it was best to omit the fact that he’d spent that very summer as a full-grown married man with an infant, auditioning for Mentos and Preparation-H ads. He’d already been in the industry for a decade. It was a strange contrast. 

“ Shit.” Aaron was nearly moaning. He took another sip and jostled Bryan’s entire arm. “It’s perfect, right?”

“I haven’t swallowed yet,” Bryan said.

Or he at least tried to with the liquid still sitting on his tongue. This was a tasting. And he was always serious when he said he liked to be seduced by his beverage. He wanted to savor and explore it. 

“Remind me...about the,” Aaron smirked into his glass, “growing process.”

He knew Aaron got sort of a kick out of Bryan sounding like a snooty sommelier of mezcal. 

Bryan rolled his eyes, but held his drink out to the light as if inspecting it. “This is made from a different, special agave, or tobala if you will--”

“I will.’’ Aaron snickered.

Seals and Crofts were singing about summer breeze in the background and Bryan snagged another olive, complimenting the indeed perfect flavor of the mezcal. The sunlight looked good on Aaron as always. 

“The plant can take twenty-five years to mature--”

Aaron nodded. “Relatable for you, I'm sure.”

Bryan elbowed him. “You know the rest. Small batches. We’ll announce on the two-year anniversary in July and try for an early October release.”

While the world was a whole lot safer than it had been, neither of them were too keen on the idea of flying out of the country just yet. Thankfully their team down in Mexico had pulled through and sent them what they believed to be the next big thing for Dos Hombres. 

Aaron topped them both off. “Like I said, it’s perfect.” 

Bryan nodded, but his eyes were on the chair next to him where he had two folders. He debated on which to grab first and decided on the easier option first.

He began to slide out marketing information, bottling designs, color options, etc. And he enjoyed watching Aaron totally flip into business-mode, offering thoughtful input and suggestions. They discussed some of how they wanted their Instagram announcement to go, different cities they wanted to hit once they officially released the mezcal, and the like. 

Maybe around an hour later when they were agreeing how they should keep their orange and white color scheme, Aaron smiled up from where his chin was resting on his hand.

“I feel like we’re planning our wedding or something.”

Bryan chuckled. It was a bit half-hearted though because he knew he’d stalled long enough and there wasn’t anything to be anxious about. This was Aaron for god’s sake.

He straightened up and noticed Aaron seemed to subconsciously follow suit. 

“So, I’ve been approached about a new film,” Bryan said. Aaron nodded with a smile in encouragement. “It’s set in the eighties and it’s about an aging playwright working on his last play in the twilight of his career, loosely based on Tennessee Williams. Set in Louisiana. It’s kind of a slice of life piece, his day-to-day, reflecting on his career. And his relationship with a younger man. The working title is ‘An Ending To Remember.’”

Aaron bit into a sliver of pickled okra. “Sounds right up your alley, man. That’s awesome. I’m really happy for you.” 

“Thank you. It’s a really great script. My character’s partner--this of course being long before the legalization of gay marriage--meets my character at a bar in Manhattan and moves to Louisiana which causes some obvious tension in their relationship. Really well-developed rich characters and story-telling.”

Aaron seemed to chew over his next words just as much as his sun-dried-tomato cracker. “Anyone attached to the role of your...uh, you know, significant other?”

“I actually have quite a bit of a say in the casting for this one.”

Aaron nodded, took another sip. “I got to do that with ‘Need for Speed.’ We’re both lucky sons of bitches being in that kind of position.” He sniffed and absently scratched the bridge of his nose, putting a lot of effort into looking nonchalant it seemed to Bryan. “Who do you have in mind? Taron Egerton? Maybe Timothee Chalamet?”

“Both I and the studio were thinking someone a little older than Chalamet. More life under their belt but still youthful. Someone who could convey a lot of raw emotion and energy yet boyish.” Bryan considered fluttering his eyelashes at Aaron, but it would have been fruitless considering the way Aaron hadn’t glanced up from the table. “Someone with brown hair...blue eyes...giant backyard and a tasteful red button-up.”

Aaron laughed, finally making eye contact. “You’re serious? You want me? For the part.”

Damn, he’d been too fast for Bryan to slide a joke in there. Instead of saying anything, he removed the script from the other folder and slid it in front of Aaron. Was he maybe sort of a little bit doing something the studio wouldn’t love him doing; showing someone not cast yet the script? Maybe. Did Bryan care? Hell no. Not with Aaron

Plus, he was already looking at the open script very studiously. Bryan wondered if he should go to the bathroom to give Aaron some time. 

“I’ll do it,” Aaron said.

Bryan chuckled. “You’ve only read, what, eight pages?”

“Two,” Aaron said. “But I want to work with you again. You know that. We’ve both said it. And if you like the script, man, I know I’ll like it too.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to at least sleep on it?”

Aaron shook his head, a genuine smile on his face.

“I’ll let the director know tomorrow,” Bryan said. He felt a little stupid realizing he hadn’t even mentioned anything about the director, though Aaron’s confidence in his judgment definitely felt nice. “Roger Matthews; the director, that is. Kind of new, done mostly indie stuff. Great guy.”

Aaron nodded. “I’m excited. Where are they wanting to film?”

“Well, the same studio’s also working on some sort of action flick that’s getting more attention right now. They want Georgia but it seems this project is a bit on the back burner for now. I’ll let you know when I hear something.”

“Right on,” Aaron said.

Bryan recognized the beginning of Elton John’s ‘Tiny Dancer’ from the speakers. It was a little chillier outside but still pleasant. Bryan couldn’t remember the last time he felt this, well, giddy about something.

“To working together again.” He raised his glass again and clinked it against Aaron’s. 

And they sat out on the patio until the sun had set, reading pieces of the script together, speaking more about Roger’s other projects--after a quick search on IMDb, Aaron said he’d had actually seen two of his films and liked them a lot--before the conversation veered to baseball and cars. 

Bryan stayed for homemade pizza and a screening of ‘Frozen.’ Lauren was equally excited about ‘An Ending to Remember,’ giving her full support. He was enlisted to help Aaron read Story Disney’s children-friendly retelling of ‘Cinderella,’ before he returned home to Robin with leftovers and good news.

It wasn’t but a few days later that he had even more good news.

After his morning run, he was stretching his calves on the front steps of his house, cell phone pressed between ear and shoulder. “They got Georgia. It’s been bumped up too. Filming should start in a month.”

“Damn, that was fast. What happened?”

“Seems some casting decisions turned the right exec’s head. Now we’re first priority.”

“That right?”

Bryan could practically hear Aaron grin through the phone. He was grinning too. 

Chapter Text

Aaron wasn’t sure if he should be more surprised that it took him so long to finish the script from cover to cover or that it had been at least a solid thirty seconds before he realized he’d been humming along to ‘Love is an Open Door.’ Lauren and Story were downstairs in the living room on their second showing of ‘Frozen’ for today and it was only a quarter after eleven AM. 

He still had sleep in the corners of his eyes, sitting on the end of his bed. He’d been up last night reading for as long as he could before passing out with the script on his chest. It wasn’t super long. Aaron just kept re-reading and re-reading lines over and over because he was finally working with Bryan again and Aaron wanted every word in his veins. So he’d definitely been up until at least two in the morning. 

After making French toast and fruit salad for his two precious ladies at seven-thirty, Lauren sent him off with a mug of black coffee and a kiss, and basically forced him up to their room so he could keep reading.

“Kissing ,” Aaron said. He rubbed the grit from his eyes. 

So the script was awesome, no doubt, but Aaron was like honestly shocked out how, well...progressive it was when it came to Ellis and Sammy’s relationship. Even in 2021 studios tended to veil queer relationships, water them down, which was shitty but super common. Aaron was expecting some longing looks and like post-coital cuddling. You know, real big stretch for him and Bryan. 

But ‘An Ending to Remember’ was not only a rare breed in that he and Bryan had almost all the dialogue and screen time, really the only actors aside from some extras in a few scenes, but like it wasn’t at all shy about their characters being affectionate either: three kissing scenes. And then that whole bathtub part.

Aaron glanced at himself in the mirror. 

Bryan had wanted to do this movie with him after reading the entire script. Yeah, Aaron had helped get Imogen Poots the part in ‘Need for Speed’ knowing they would kiss. Aaron was just doing a friend a solid. Must have been the same thing with Bryan.

But man, that bathtub scene.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t more or less memorized what Bryan’s ass looked like. He wasn’t having second thoughts either.

“ Olaf !” Aaron heard a scramble of little feet up the stairs from the other side of the door before the familiar swish of a much beloved Elsa dress against the hardwoods in the hall. Story stage-whispered, “ Olaf, I’m ready .”

He knew that was his so to speak call to set. After months of perfecting, he had his part totally down. He’d start on his back on the living room floor and wait for Story to wave her hands before he’d slowly rise to his feet while holding a carrot in front of his face: transformed into Olaf. Then Story would eat his nose. It was his most cherished role to date.

“Do you want to build a snowman?” he said.

His Littlest Bird giggled in response.

Aaron was already standing, but took another glimpse in the mirror. 

Just because Bryan wanted to do a movie where they made out didn’t mean the dude actually wanted to makeout with him. Because he didn’t think his daughter really wanted to scarf down his nose. 

Turn him into a magical snowman though?  

And had he thought about Bryan like that?

Not as a snowman, obviously, but like, kissing the guy?

Yeah . It was Bryan Cranston. Even his own wife wasn’t immune to the man’s good looks. She’d even long ago like okay-ed the possibility of him and Bryan hooking up even after they were married.

Last night in bed, he told her about that fucking bathtub scene. He always gave her a heads-up whenever he was doing a job with any scenes like this. And she’d looked at him from over her laptop where she was working on Kind Campaign sign-ups, acting so totally nonplussed. 

She’d gone back to typing in her spreadsheet, smiling. “You guys are going to be on location again. Who knows .”

Lauren had even done that cute eyebrow wiggle-thing: usually his cue she wanted to have some private time when Littlest Bird was napping or otherwise safely occupied. 

Somehow hearing it from Lauren wasn’t a shock but a relief. Maybe. He wasn’t even sure how he was feeling. 

Aaron couldn’t think about that right now. He needed to get into character. 

Opening the door, he extended his arms, and thought only snowman thoughts.

---

The next time Bryan saw Aaron was the first week of April, on location in a suburb right outside of Atlanta. They had the whole street blocked off for filming. Aaron was in his character, Sammy’s wardrobe: a light washed pair of fitted jeans, black muscle-tank, and thick-framed glasses. The latter of which reminded Bryan of late nights in the ABQ, pouring over the new script as soon as they got it, Aaron’s eyes too irritated at that point for contacts. 

“You look good,” Bryan said. 

While true, he also looked cold. 

Aaron gave him a short, little appreciative nod, both hands wrapped around his byta thermos of coffee. It was barely seven in the morning and in spite of spring, Georgia was having a rare cold-snap; couldn’t have been over fifty degrees. Louisiana would have been much warmer but also more expensive for production. So here they were in the Peach State; more like a frost-bitten peach. The crew was dressed in down jackets and scarves. Bryan’s character, Ellis, was luckily wearing an olive green cardigan and dark brown slacks. But even he was chilly.

He rubbed his hands up and down Aaron’s arms while cameras were being positioned and adjusted.

“Thanks,” Aaron said. 

He could have easily asked for a spare coat, but he was never one to impose, especially on their first day when cast-crew dynamics were still new. 

In this scene, their characters had recently moved to Louisiana and were spending their morning tending an herb garden. Well, Bryan was teaching Aaron how to prune back weeds, gauge what needed to be watered and when. 

There was somewhat of a student/teacher dynamic to Ellis and Sammy’s relationship. The irony wasn’t lost on him. But it actually helped with the work. Dialogue flowed easily. They’d gone over their lines the other night of course. Their hotel rooms were conveniently adjacent to one another's, and they had even gone for a drink in the Marriott bar afterwards. It had been empty aside from the bartender who had politely asked for a selfie. 

“You think you planted enough lavender?” Aaron said, hunched over a blossoming array of purple flowers.

“Keeps away the mosquitoes.” Bryan spoke in a slight Southern drawl, not exactly LBJ by any means but definitely punctuated with more of a twang than his regular accent. 

Aaron wiped his gardening gloves on his jeans. “Yeah, hope it keeps away other stuff too, you know?”

His character was referring to their homophobic neighbors who hadn’t at this point in the movie been outright hostel--some graffiti would appear on their driveway later--but they weren’t friendly either. 

“I think that’s good for today. I’m going inside to work.”

“Cool. I’ll be in later.”

Aaron was fiddling with the petals of a sunflower, which Bryan had planted specially for him; Sammy’s favorite flower. Sammy was still angry about relocating from New York. But not enough to shut Ellis out entirely. They only had each other out here. 

For this next part Bryan needed to bend over and give Aaron a brief kiss. When they’d gone over lines and then later roughly did some blocking they’d only mimed that part. Now he was going to do it for real.

“Alright,” he said; infusing the word with patience and reluctance.

With a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, he pressed his lips to the corner of Aaron’s mouth. 

And while it was only maybe an inch, inch and a half, away from where he’d kissed Aaron more than a dozen times, that small distance made all the difference. 

Because it was like a beam of spring sunshine shining straight through his chest, warming him like a deep swallow of coffee.  

God, he felt like he was fifteen years old, but he swore his lips tingled. 

Then Aaron’s parted and without thinking, just pure instinct, Bryan deepened the kiss. He edged closer to the center of Aaron’s mouth. Bryan was positive he was the only one who heard, too quiet for even the mics to pick out, but Aaron’s breath hitched a little. 

Roger cleared his throat, and Bryan pulled back.

“Great stuff, guys. Really great stuff,” Roger said, fiddling with the headphones around his neck. He fidgeted a lot. His speech patterns sometimes reminded Bryan of a young Woody Allen. “Just a small note though on the kiss. Remember we’re in the front yard. It’s in the mid nineteen-eighties and we’re in the Bible belt. So maybe pull in...a little of that intensity. A quick one. You’re going inside to make breakfast and tinker with your play, Bryan, not leaving for war.”

Roger chuckled, they all did. Though Bryan also thought he saw one of the crew fanning herself with a copy of the pages they were working on today. Maybe it had been a little much.

Bryan glanced over at Aaron who was absorbing every one of Roger’s words. He knew it wasn’t a time for jokes. 

They picked back up from Bryan’s, “Alright.”

The kiss was brief this take, still tender but practically a flash, like a secret, a moment for just the two of their characters.

Thankfully they got the shot. 

And the whole crew seemed very happy to return to the lot for the interior scenes they had planned for the rest of the day. 

Bryan and Aaron were sharing a rental car on the studio’s dime. Bryan insisted on driving. He cranked up the heat, but they didn’t talk about the kiss. They discussed the next scene, crafts service, where they wanted to go for dinner. They’d both read the script beforehand, had known what was coming. Bryan was a professional and had done things like this for years. The kiss wasn’t an issue. 

---

Aaron jabbed the button on the side of his phone. Rihanna’s voice was a beautiful scream in his AirPods. His legs were a blur on the treadmill.

He was thankful that the Marriott gym was empty and even more so that he was five and a half miles into his six point two mile run, or in other words, a ten K. 

It was dark outside of the floor-to-ceiling windows in front of him, ten stories up, downtown Atlanta a jumble of lights and heavy traffic even though it was almost midnight. Tomorrow was the second day on set but his call-time wasn’t until one in the afternoon. Bryan had gone to bed hours ago.

Perfect opportunity for a run.

Because running meant he wasn’t thinking about Bryan or how good Aaron had felt that morning knee-deep in dirt kissing his best friend in front of the crew or about why this was so way different from all the other movies when he’d shared an onscreen kiss. 

For fuck’s sake he’d made out with Emily Ratajkowski like twenty times in Italy for ‘Welcome Home.’ She was on maybe every ‘Hot Under Thirty List’ published in the last five years. No offense to her, but he’d felt nothing . His focus was mostly on being in-character, following his choreography from the intimacy director, and maybe pizza too. He’d been in Italy; sue him. 

He’d honestly rather be eating pizza than running. 

Well really he’d rather wake up Bryan and kiss him again. 

Aaron checked his distance on the treadmill: point-fifteen miles left. Rihanna was singing about finding love in a hopeless place. He wondered how Bryan would react to a “You Up?” text.

Sprinting until the resistance of the machine dipped, he did his cool-down walk and tried to roll out a kink in his neck. It was a parting gift from Boston; different kind of choreography, different kind of on-location filming experience. 

Bryan gave fucking awesome neck rubs.

Aaron took a swig of water and gave into a different impulse. 

He ordered a pepperoni pizza from a local joint on Postmates. 

---

They filmed for another week and a half on what Roger was aiming to be a three week shoot. Seeing Aaron on set every day was just as comforting and energizing as Bryan remembered, maybe even more so because they were closer now. 

Bryan and Aron hadn’t kissed again, spending more screen time bickering and debating, which felt pleasantly reminiscent of Walt and Jesse. But it wasn’t a carbon copy, enough differences that Bryan didn’t believe critics would be too bothered.

Not that Bryan really cared much about what the critics would think. He was having too much fun.

Usually filming on location could be very lonely. But any second they weren’t working, Bryan and Aaron were spending together. They played poker several late afternoons in Aaron’s room, had meals together, caught a Braves game one warm weekday evening of hot dogs and beer. They even squeezed in an appearance at a popular Atlanta bar where they poured everyone Dos Hombres in their matching hats.

On set they goofed off between takes and poured their hearts out in every scene. It was just like the good old days.

Well, it was right up until the bathtub scene.

Chapter Text

The last time Bryan filmed something inside a tub was for ‘Trumbo,’ and he’d had a writing desk braced above his thighs. 

This was now replaced with a half-naked Aaron Paul.

And the young man before him was clothed only in the teeniest beige Speedo Bryan had ever seen, allowing Bryan much more of an understanding of Aaron’s...crotchal region than he’d had in the past. 

Aaron had only barely been resting on Bryan during what they’d already shot today; Aaron’s own choice to give him some hovering space like Aaron’s junk was the underbelly of a skateboard. Aaron, always the gentleman.  

Bryan was wearing a matching Speedo, his back braced against the tub. Aaron was poised slightly above his lap, though still submerged from the ribs down, with his hands balanced on the rim of the bath.

“You guys still doing okay?” Brittany said.

She was one of the assistants, probably only a little younger than Aaron with asymmetrical dark bangs, pouring in another kettle of boiling hot water at the foot of the tub. 

They were doing this in a mock-up of a bathroom inside what was once a community pool. The yellow walls between the actual pool and locker rooms where a lifeguard stand most likely had once stood matched up with the director’s vision. It was cheap and close by too. Based on their progress, it looked like they weren’t going to meet their three-week time frame and the studio wasn’t coughing up any more money.

The ranch style house they’d been using didn’t have any suitable rooms,  size-wise, for the scene. But just two blocks away was this abandoned indoor pool. And after the proper legalities were squared away, here they were. 

At three in the morning.

A night shoot.

Inside of a stand-alone bathtub with no actual plumbing. 

They did have a working hot plate; hence the kettle treatment. The kettle itself from a 24-hour Walmart-run. And it was actually very effective at keeping them warm.

“Yeah, great. Thank you, Brittany,” Aaron said, a charming smile.  

“Got to spritz you again. Getting a little dry.” 

It was a gentle warning before she used her spray bottle to mist Aaron’s torso, face, and arms with room temp water. Goosebumps were peppered down the length of his chest. They’d been in here for a while.

One of the lights had busted as they’d essentially nailed their fifth take of the dialogue segment which was preceded in the script with the stage directions: ‘Sammy initiates a romantic gesture.’ Aaron’s lips had just grazed his when they heard the popping shatter of the bulb.

None of the tech had any explanation for it. But it reminded Bryan of what Vince had said about his fear of the set catching fire whenever Bryan and Aaron shared a scene. Bryan could have used a little fire, maybe a space heater, while they waited for repairs. 

“Stay there, guys. Doing great stuff. Really great stuff,” Roger had said. “Just another couple of minutes and we’ll be good to go.”

 He’d repeated this two minutes ago...and five...and then ten. 

“At least they’re not calling an electrician,” Aaron said. “‘Cause you know, it sort of looks like we’re uh…”

“ Filming a porno ?” Bryan said loudly. He let his voice reverberate against the walls just to get a rise out of him.

“Dude, shut up,” Aaron said. But he was snickering. “It’s not my fault you’re so hot, the light shattered.”

Even if it was in jest, Bryan’s ego and pulse didn’t get the note.   

“Oh yes. It was me . Look at how pruney I am,” Bryan said. He displayed his right hand and got another laugh. 

A shirtless, dewy, smiling Aaron Paul was a true sight to behold. Bryan couldn’t have cared less about his puckered fingers. 

He figured it would be bad form to get in some rehearsing while they waited. Nothing too crazy. Simply crane his neck up and kiss Aaron again already; just a taste. 

Aaron huffed out a chuckle. “Yeah, well my arms are starting to cramp holding myself up.”

Bryan shrugged. “Rest then.”

Aaron cocked an eyebrow. “Yo, I don’t want to be sitting on you forever and have your leg like go numb.”

Bryan narrowed his eyes. “You’re what, fifty pounds soaking wet? I think I can handle it.”

“Fuck you,” Aaron said, rolling his eyes. 

But he started to bend his elbows and lower down. 

“Okay, let’s take ten,” Roger said. 

Brittany practically materialized at their side to help them out and hand them soft, black robes that felt like they’d tumbled out fresh from the dryer.

Aaron tied his robe as tight as it would go. “This feels amazing.”

Brittany smiled. “I had them in my trunk. It’s sweltering outside. Crazy weather, right?”

She’d hardly walked away before Bryan was steering Aaron towards the door with a hand on his lower back. 

Aaron tripped. “ Hey, wha --”

“The warmth ,” Bryan said, “It beckons me. Come, my faithful subject as we enjoy it together... in our robes .”

“Yes, good sir.”

Bryan wasn’t sure what bit they were doing but it was assuring to know Aaron was just as loopy as he was. 

And the outside world--in this case an alley behind a closed Popeyes--felt balmy in a way that was refreshing after being in the bath water for so long. The smell of fried chicken and hot grease lingered. They leaned against the brick wall of the community pool and stood in comfortable silence. 

Around the corner Rachel and Amber, the two wardrobe stylists, were having a smoke break.

“You know the last time I did a movie with one of these kinds of scenes, the actors did shots of Bacardi.”Rachel said. “They’re like you know...wow...like...totally...comfortable with each other, right?”

“ Oh they are totes ,”--Amber made a popping sound like she’d flicked the inside of her cheek with her finger--,”on the side. Totes boning. Like for sure , yeah.”

It took nearly all of his willpower to not audibly laugh. He only risked glancing at Aaron long enough to see his shoulders were shaking. Not that it was the first time they’d heard something of the sort whispered about them, but current circumstances certainly made it a hell of a lot funnier. 

Bryan managed to compose himself enough to elbow Aaron, gesturing around the corner with his voice lowered.

“Speaking of that,” Bryan said. He got more than a little amusement at how wide Aaron’s eyes got. “I mean, being comfortable. When we go back in...don’t hold back. Don’t be polite. You know...really give it to me.”

He’d had to reassure Aaron before in the past when they’d done fight choreography for the show; not to worry about hitting, kicking, scratching him. This was a little different, but the same sort of sentiment. Though in this case Bryan certainly wasn’t going to get hurt. 

Aaron’s eyebrows pinched together high up his forehead. “You sure?”

“Yeah. The scene needs it.”

Bryan wondered if he was speaking the whole truth. 

“Cool, man,” Aaron said, smiling. “Sounds good to me.”

It wasn’t long before they were corralled back to their places.

Now though Aaron was leaning almost his full weight on Bryan--light as a kitten, really--thigh-to-thigh, straddling him. A  half dozen or so mounted tungsten bulbs encircled them like one massive ring light. Bryan wasn’t sure how he looked but it was only amplifying that glimmer in Aaron’s eye.

Before Bryan could blink, they were rolling. And he had to sit and wait because according to the stage directions it was Aaron’s turn to kick this off.  

Aaron didn’t disappoint. It was like a switch flipped.

Everything in his mannerisms: the sultry expression on his face, the wet, weighty. confident hand sliding up Bryan’s chest, made Bryan feel like he was being seduced. His throat felt like it pleasantly dropped into his stomach.  

And while priding himself on being a professional, he couldn’t deny he was aroused.

So he used it.

The instant Aaron’s lips slipped between his, Bryan greeted the kiss with eager abandon. It felt both startlingly new and natural--comfortable--simultaneously. It only made sense to greet Aaron’s tongue with his own. 

When he moaned it was more so Bryan moaning than Ellis.

They kissed and kissed and kissed.  

He encouraged Aaron with a soft hand on his lower back when Aaron started to pretend to rock against him, using only his partial weight, faking the rest. Bryan pulled him closer, enough to feel solid heat along his inner thigh. 

Aaron pulled back to breathe ragged into the crook of Bryan’s neck before tipping his head back and arching into his next thrust, seeming to aim more for what little space there remained between their bodies but getting more of Bryan himself. Aaron’s lips parted in what looked by all means like genuine pleasure.

Acting at its finest.

Bryan was sweating from nape to ass even though the water had become tepid at best. 

But for whatever reason it wasn’t until now that he realized Aaron’s interpretation--probably rightfully so--of ‘romantic gesture,’ was in fact full-throttle sex. 

He was doing a sex scene with Aaron . 

Damn , he felt dense. He’d read this over at least fifteen times. And yes in theory he already knew. 

Didn’t mean that living it in the here and now didn’t have him iridescently, inappropriately...excited. They were on set after all. Sufficient to say his Speedo was starting to feel snugger.    

Palming the side of Aaron’s face, he drowned that all out and kissed him again. It gradually began to slow, still sensual. Aaron rubbed his hand down Bryan’s arm and interlaced their fingers underwater. It was entirely out of frame. Just Aaron holding Bryan’s hand. And it was somehow the hottest thing they’d done tonight.

“ I think we got it !” Roger said. Bryan had a sinking suspension it wasn’t for the first time. Roger looked like he was almost blushing. “That’s a wrap. Great stuff, guys. Really great stuff.”

The few crew members in the room quickly dispersed.

“Want to get out of here?” Bryan said. 

He believed that line landed as casual, referring mostly to them getting out of this now cold bathtub. But Aaron was anything but casual: all laser-focused, dark bedroom eyes, expression simmering, tongue dragging across his lower lip with a smile in the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, man. I do. I really do.”

---

Aaron was expecting things to be all lips and hands and tearing off the clothes they’d just put back on, the second they were back at the hotel. It had only been a five minute drive: silent in a way that was like suffocating and thrilling and nauseating. 

But Bryan disappeared before Aaron could even get off the elevator. 

Maybe Bryan needed some time. 

So Aaron paced in his bedroom for exactly seventeen minutes. 

He tried to come up with what to say, how to explain how he was feeling and what he wanted to do and why he thought it was a good idea. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, wondered if he’d spooked the dude by getting kind of hard in the bathtub. Bryan had been the one who kept pulling him in more. Fuck it.

Aaron knocked on his door just as the thing flung open. Bryan almost ran into him.

Aaron kept his voice down. “I’ve never done this before--”

“Robin says she’s okay--”

They both laughed.

“Never done what before?” Bryan said.

“ Anything . With a castmate, I mean. That’s not how I roll, you know, usually. With anyone else.” Aaron’s mouth was dry as hell. “But like, to be clear, Lauren pretty much thinks we already have.”

Bryan laughed. “ Really ?”

“Yeah, crazy right?”

Aaron pushed Bryan deeper into the room and let the door swish shut behind them. He titled Bryan back onto the down comforter and yanked his own shirt off.

“Crazy. Completely unsubstantiated.” Bryan swatted Aaron’s hands away to unzip his jeans for him. He fucking straight-up cupped Aaron through his boxers. “Cooky, I tell you.”

Moaning and chuckling at the same time didn’t exactly come naturally to Aaron, but it was something he should have expected with Bryan. 

“Just going for it,” Aaron said.

He rocked into Bryan’s palm.

And the dude and had the nerve to pull back. Aaron wanted to say something about that, but Bryan was getting rid of the rest of his own clothes so Aaron followed his lead.

Let the guy manhandle him between the sheets.

And unlike the scene they’d just done, everything was fast, totally unstructured and like fantastic and frantic and sloppy. They’d have other opportunities to cherish shit; sip and savor and all that. This was more like doing shots. Bryan was calling them--the shots so to speak--and Aaron fucking loved it. He was on top, massive hand wrapped around the both of them, Aaron thrusting up into Bryan’s fist.

Aaron was panting. “You ever...with a--”

Bryan shook his head. “You?”

Aaron mimicked him and kissed Bryan partly to wipe that smug look off his face. Though Aaron had to admit he could dig being Bryan’s first dude. 

He felt the scrape of Bryan’s teeth down his neck just as Aaron came.

Bryan groaned. “ Shit .”

Aaron lifted his hips into the fucking mind-blowing aftershocks, Bryan shuddering from like head to foot in his own come down. 

Bryan rolled over onto his back. Aaron let his breath even out before getting up and grabbing one of the hotel’s hand towels from the bathroom and sharing it with the guy. 

He set one knee on the bed, still naked, one foot on the carpet, uncharted territory-shit, not sure if Bryan wanted to just pass out. It was almost five in the morning. He reached for his shirt.  

“You bailing on our sleepover?” Bryan fluttered his eyelashes. “ How could you ?”

Aaron chuckled and slid back under the sheets. 

---

Bryan tugged the comforter up over the both of them until it reached Aaron’s shoulder. 

Their room service breakfasts had been devoured: Bryan a buttered English muffin and scrambled eggs kind of guy while Aaron had opted for the blueberry pancakes and bacon. Bryan had answered the door while Aaron hid in the bathroom and he’d only heckled Aaron about it for five or so minutes. 

The sky hovered blue and pink over Atlanta’s early-morning rush hour traffic. 

Aaron was about half-asleep, a toasty little spoon in Bryan’s arms.

In all honesty, Bryan’s intentions for handing Aaron that script months ago wasn’t to get where they were now. Were they making the film of the century? No. Was Roger a little...grating at times? Sure. Had he wanted to kiss Aaron? Of course. But when all was said and done, he simply wanted to work with Aaron again. Anything else was a much welcomed bonus; a huge, life-changing, wonderful bonus. 

“You doing okay?” Bryan asked.

Aaron blinked back at him, heavy-lidded. “Yeah, man. Great stuff.”

Bryan chuckled. “Really great stuff.”

He kissed the nape of Aaron’s neck, stroked his bony shoulder, and just drank in the feeling of Aaron’s heartbeat against his chest.