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Prop Thief

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Virgil groaned as he stared down at the prop table.

It seemed like half of his job as a stage tech was keeping track of the various knickknacks that the actors needed. Specifically, Roman Knight’s things. That pompous prince seemed to be particularly adept at losing his props.

Part of Virgil wondered if Roman was really that dumb, or if there was something else going on there. He had begun to “misplace” one prop or another about twice a night.

Groaning resignedly, Virgil nodded to one of his fellow stage techs in a silent communication that he would deal with the prop issue. Hopefully for the last time.

Virgil turned on his heel and made his way further backstage to the dressing rooms. It really sucked that Roman had his own dressing room as the leading man. Virgil really would have loved to embarrass him in front of his fellow actors.

Knocking once, Virgil didn’t even wait for a response before he opened the door and pushed his way into Roman’s dressing room. “Where is it?”

Roman turned from the full length mirror leaning against the wall, a smirk already on his face. He somehow still managed to look dashingly royal despite the fact that he wasn’t yet fully in costume. “Where is what, Doom and Gloom?”

Virgil huffed, rolling his eyes and stepping further into the room, already scanning all visible surfaces for the missing prop sword. “You know what, Princey.”

He heard Roman humming behind him. Some Cinderella song. Glancing back over at the culprit, Virgil scowled to see the man leaning into the mirror to touch up his lipstick, completely and utterly unconcerned with Virgil’s rage.

“I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about. Maybe you should go check with Dee.”

Virgil shook his head. If he weren’t so used to Roman’s antics by now–if he weren’t so completely put up with Roman, he would have been a bit less confrontational. He would have taken the actor’s word for it and moved on to look elsewhere. But Virgil was tired. He was stressed. It was nearly showtime, and Roman was standing there in his shirtsleeves, totally casual, acting like he knew nothing when Virgil knew that he had done this.

“Oh for the love of-” Virgil’s feet were moving him forward before he could even think. A deep part of Virgil was silently screaming, terrified that he was about to just lose it and punch Roman in his stupid smirking face. Instead, Virgil found himself reaching out and forcefully turning Roman away from the mirror.

Roman’s eyes were wide as he was spun around, the lip liner in his hand falling to the ground in his surprise. “Um? Rude much?”

“I don’t have time for this, Roman. I know that you’ve been moving stuff from the prop table all week.” Virgil knew that he was probably getting far too worked up, but there was just something so infuriating about Roman. Maybe it was the fact that despite how downright annoying he was, Virgil was still undoubtedly attracted to him.

And it sucked.

Pushing the thought aside, Virgil focused back on Roman.

Who was now smirking again, his perfectly painted lips practically taunting Virgil all on their own. “So what if I have?”

Virgil blinked. He was just admitting it? Seriously? Did this man have no sense of self preservation?

“What are you going to do about it?”

And that. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Surging forward, Virgil crushed his lips against that rage-inducing red mouth. Distantly, he knew that there was a part of him that was internally screaming about what a bad idea this was this was such a bad idea why was he

However, that part was instantly silenced when Roman groaned into his mouth and tangled his hands in Virgil’s hair. Virgil relaxed into the touch, but didn’t stop pressing forward until he was flush against the actor.

His hands fell from Roman’s shoulders to his chest as he nipped at the other’s lower lip. Roman made an embarrassing whining sound that only spurred Virgil on. He plunged his tongue into the actor’s mouth, pride welling up inside him at this newfound ability to shut Roman up.

Virgil couldn’t help a small moan of his own as Roman tugged on his hair. In retaliation, Virgil dropped his wandering hands to the actor’s hips, his fingers slowly but surely exploring their way under Roman’s shirt as he allowed his lip to be pulled into the warmth of Roman’s mouth and probing tongue.

Sadly, as soon as Virgils cold fingers found their way under Roman’s shirt and made contact with skin, Roman pulled away with a sharp gasp. Just as Virgil was regaining his senses, there was a sharp knock at the dressing room door.

“Virgil? Are you in there? They found the sword prop in Dee’s dressing room.”

Virgil flushed, pulling back from Roman’s touch, only to see that that smirk was back in place once again.

Virgil had to admit that it was much more bearable this time as he took in Roman’s kiss swollen lips and smeared lipstick. Nevertheless, he scoffed and stepped back another step. He didn’t want to give himself time to second guess this.

“Pull yourself together, Princey. You look like a mess, and,” he quickly glanced at his phone screen for the time, “it’s fifteen minutes til places.”

Virgil quickly turned and practically booked it out of the room. He had made it halfway down the hall before he heard the indignant sputtering coming from Roman’s dressing room.