Call the Script Doctor, We've Got Sequelitis
(In the shared apartment of our heroes, actors Yami Kingson and Yugi Mutou...)
Turn about, Yami was discovering as they started work on the sequel to The Boy I Love is a Vampire, was rather satisfying. He smirked across the king-sized bed at his co-star and on-screen (and off-screen) love interest. Yugi had just hurled his copy of the script (whose title Yami continued to blank on, but he thought it had something to do with the moon... or mooning...or arses, for all he remembered. Or cared.) at the nearest wall and was looking around for something with which to impale it or, failing that, set it on fire. Possibly with his mind, if the rather wild look in his eyes was anything to go by.
"I hate this fucking movie!" Yugi attempted to pull out double-handfuls of his own hair. "It should be called 'I'm so damned pathetic I have no life without a fucking boyfriend'! Argh!"
"It's just a movie, aibou." The single thing Yami hadn't hated about the script was the word "aibou," ported over from the original manga, and now his favorite, slightly teasing endearment for his co-star cum lover.
Said lover was currently glaring at him as if Yami not only kicked puppies for a hobby, but also blended them into smoothies and sold them at overpriced chain stores. In malls. "Does the phrase 'fuck you muchly' hold any meaning for you?"
"I didn't think you were in the mood." Yami wrapped his arms around his lover and gave a gentle squeeze while leaning down to nibble on Yugi's bare neck.
"Yami." The word was a warning growl.
Deliberately, Yami let his hands slip under the duvet and wander lower. Much lower. He squeezed again, with intent. "Maybe I could help you get in the mood?"
He licked at Yugi's ear and blew across the damp skin, then nibbled playfully at his nape. Beneath the covers, his fingers found their favorite playground and did a bit of frolicking of their own.
"Yami..." This time, rather than a warning, the word was uttered on a slightly desperate groan.
"Should I stop?"
Twisting his neck so he could glare at Yami, Yugi growled. "If you stop now, I will cheerfully murder you in your sleep."
Yami laughed. And, like the excellent (and totally non-puppy-blending) boyfriend that he was, carried on.
Bela Lugosi's Dead (and Bela Trumpeter doesn’t feel so great, either)
(A few happily involved hours later, and after a brief nap and a quick shower, we find our heroes in the kitchen. More specifically, in the breakfast nook...)
"Please tell me you're not reading that horrid script again."
Yugi leaned forward to thump his forehead repeatedly against the top of the dining table, narrowly missing faceplanting into his (far too healthy to actually be good for him) lunch of gluten-free veggie burger (no bun), green salad, and sweet potato fries.
"Well," Yami noted ruefully as he slid into the banquette beside his partner and tried to shift plates and flatware out of harm's way. "I suppose that answers that question."
Turning his head, and revealing a hither-to-unnoticed (and rather festive) streak of spicy ketchup adorning his cheek, Yugi scrunched up his face in an expression that was one part glower, two parts pout, and (as far as Yami was concerned) all adorable.
"My character is a pathetic, personality-less wreck! Cardboard cutouts have more backbone than Bela Trumpeter. How is the audience supposed to empathize with a doormat who sits around and stares blankly at nothing for months on end just because his boyfriend was a jerk--" Here he straightened to jab an accusing finger at Yami, who held up his hands and made an emphatic "hey, not ME!" gesture. "--and dumped him 'for his own good'? Fucking pathetic!"
With a final "argh," Yugi slumped back onto the table, landing nose first in the ketchup with a tomato-y squelch.
Stealing a fry, Yami eyed it as if it held the answer to the mysteries of life, the universe, and everything -- or at least why Tasogare Ai had ever gotten published as a manga, much less made into a series of (god-awful) movies. "Oh, I don't know. I think my character's got yours beaten on the Pathetic-o-meter."
A skeptical Yugi raised his head to peer at him, both eyebrows lifted in question.
"Seriously, on a scale of one to oh-my-fucking-god, Atemu is way worse than Bela."
The Eyebrows of Ultimate Skepticism inched higher, as if daring him to prove it.
"Three words." Yami punctuated his reply by tapping the end of Yugi's nose with the fry as he spoke. "Suicide. By. Sparkle."
Yugi perked up, snatched the fry from Yami's fingers, and proceeded to devour it in a salacious fashion that brought to mind many words starting with the letter "f." (The one currently hammering at the forefront of Yami's consciousness was, unsurprisingly, "fellatio.") This happy thought was only slightly derailed by Yugi adding, with a sly grin, "You're right. You are waaaaay more pathetic than I am."
Every Girl's Crazy 'bout a Sharp-(un)Dressed Man
(On the set of that movie its star can't remember the name of...)
They both watched Malik Ishtar (aka the actor playing "Mariku Ebon") saunter by, dressed in his working costume of cut-off jeans and a pair of ratty looking flip-flops. Yami's eyes narrowed when he noticed Yugi noticing Malik's tousled blond mane, acres of bare, golden-tanned skin, and the way the cut-offs hugged Malik's derriere.
Yami frowned. "Does that guy even have a shirt?"
"I'm pretty sure I saw one in wardrobe. I think all the 'wolf pack' actors have to share it, though. Must not be his day avec le chemise."
Suddenly, Yami had a new empathy for Gomez Addams. ("Tish! You spoke French!") Suppressing the urge to pull a Gomez and dip Yugi into a kiss worthy of Gone with the Wind, Yami cast a jaundiced eye after Ishtar, who had been joined by an equally un-appareled Rashid (who played pack alpha Odion), and muttered, "I suppose we should just be thankful they all have pants."
"Speak for yourself."
Was that drool on Yugi's chin? It looked like drool. For Malik. Or Rashid. Or... good god, both of them? This? Was so Not On. Yugi drooling over anyone who was not Yami was simply wrong, wrong, so totally WRONG.
Yami glowered at the crushing unfairness of the universe.
"What?" Yugi gave him the innocent look for all of two seconds before caving and folding his arms defensively over his chest, which meant he knew he was caught red-handed, but was determined not to admit fault. "I am neither blind nor dead, Yami. Hot, buff, half-naked guys? Not a Bad Thing."
Ha! Not in Yami's book. And there was definitely drool. Not-Yami-related drool! This could not be allowed to stand! Glaring at his lover, Yami did a credible imitation of a vampire and growled.
Yugi's cheeks flushed and his pupils dilated so that the black nearly swallowed up the vibrant, cornflower blue of his irises. "...Okay. Turns out? That's pretty hot, too."
Smirking, Yami decided impulse control was highly over-rated and went for the dip-and-kiss after all. (Gomez and Rhett would be proud.)
(Three days – and many, many instances of buff, male near-nudity later...)
"No, seriously. This shirtlessness? Must. End. NOW." Yami scowled at the seemingly endless parade of half-naked men strolling past on their way to the set. Yugi was salivating again. At multiple someones who were most emphatically Not Yami. If this kept up, his boyfriend was going to expire of dehydration from all the fluids he was losing. (Drool. Yami meant drool, not... Wait. Was it possible that other bodily fluids were involved in this clusterfu—Er. No. Get a grip, Yami. Don't go there! Yugi wouldn't do that. Surely, if any of Yugi's fluids were being spilt, said spillage at least involved him fantasizing about Yami... Right?)
"Unf," said Yugi, a glazed look in his eyes and a bead of saliva collecting on his lower lip. He appeared completely unaware of anything other than the Too Sexy for Their Shirts Brigade sauntering by.
Growling under his breath, Yami stalked off toward the wardrobe department. At this point, he was ready to buy his fellow actors shirts. And then staple said shirts to their (spray-tanned and overly Bowflexed) bodies, if need be. Because apparently Yugi had a "type" and it was tall, tanned, and toned.
He glanced down at his (average height, whipcord lean) whitewashed and be-glittered self, and groaned.
Forget shirts. He was buying them all burkas.
All's Well that Ends Well
(Later, that night...)
Yami tossed aside the copy of the script he'd been perusing, and growled, "I hate this movie."
Sprawled on the bed beside him, Yugi snorted. "Why? All you have to do is swan around looking brooding and Byronic—"
"Byronic heroes do not sparkle," Yami interrupted, slanting a mock glare at him.
"...Point." Yugi hid a snigger and slid closer, reaching out to trail his fingers along the bare length of Yami's arm where it lay on the mattress between them. Despite his best efforts in the shower earlier, there were still a few flakes of glitter scattered here and there on his skin. Yugi would sooner be typecast for the rest of his career than admit it, but there was a part of him (a tiny, mostly suppressed part) that kinda liked the sparkling. It was like dating a unicorn.
He buried his face against Yami's side and tried, unsuccessfully, to smother the resulting laughter.
"Why do I get the feeling you're thinking something that would get you tickle-tortured if I could actually read your mind?" Yami's voice held a familiar mixture of fond resignation and wry amusement.
"Because you know me so well?" ventured Yugi, risking a quick peek up through his mussed bangs.
The soft smile he surprised on his lover's face made him freeze, startled by the depth of the affection he saw there. He swallowed, hard, and leaned up, pressing his face into the center of Yami's chest and inhaling his woodsy cologne. He sighed happily as Yami's arms came up to fold him closer.
"I'll be glad when this movie is over," Yami muttered, actions in direct opposition to his tone as he carded gentle fingers through Yugi's hair.
Boneless with contentment, Yugi managed to tease, "Tired of working with me already?"
"Never." Yami bent down to press a kiss to the top of Yugi's head. "But we barely have any real scenes together, and most of your pages are scenes with Malik. Romantic scenes with Malik."
Ah! And here they had the source of Yami's discontent. "It's just acting, sweetheart. Besides, Atemu gets Bela in the end. Of course--" Here, Yugi caught Yami's hand and kissed it, before sucking Yami's index finger briefly into his mouth, making Yami gasp with startled pleasure. "—You can have me right now."
Yugi's grin turned wicked, in that way he knew drove Yami crazy, as he added, "In the end or any other way you'd like."