Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Character:
Language:
English
Collections:
Innocent Lies
Stats:
Published:
2005-08-08
Completed:
2005-08-08
Words:
21,691
Chapters:
7/7
Hits:
208

That Would Be Wrong

Summary:

Neither Alexis nor David are as innocent as they look.

Notes:

Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at Innocent Lies. Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in January 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on Innocent Lies collection profile.

Chapter 1: Method

Chapter Text

"You have to stop doing that."

It's late enough that the hours have once again swung back on their way into morning. This of course means nothing on a set, where complicated matters such as time and energy are condensed through the magic of industry physics to never, upon never, equal the far greater power of money.

They had a schedule. There were shots that needed to be done. They'd be there all night if they had to.

Unions, however, are a force unto themselves. A term that suggests itself is "black hole" but as Alexis himself is a card-carrying member of one he's not entirely certain he can use that phrase without thinking himself a traitor to the cause. But it's somewhat apt, if one thinks of suits as light and teamsters as the only thing that can stop them.

Then again that requires thinking of suits as light, and that's an entirely wrong metaphor on every possible level.

"Doing what?" David asks, and it's back down to them again.

They're on break, because union rules demand that they be and, more practically, even someone fresh off the bus could tell that nothing was going to get done unless some kind of intervention was had to cut short and cap wayward energy. Synergy was one thing, lack of control was something else.

Of course it's strange to think of having a lack of control when David is currently inside of a cage, everyone else has taken five ("And let's actually try to make it back here in at least *ten*, people!") to go drink, eat, piss, shit, and/or drug themselves (not necessarily in that order), and a stagehand has very foolishly given Alexis the only keys to the very real lock on the cage that was put on, by Alexis's own suggestion, when the door had the embarrassing habit of swinging open right when the script demanded that David's character be trapped behind it and unable to get out.

People very often foolishly give Alexis keys in situations like this. He has an honest face. It makes him seem affable, and trustworthy. That works to his advantage when past history gives every indication that he will abuse the privilege with savage glee.

Such as now.

"You know damned well what," Alexis says. He stands opposite David, right on his mark. He's tempted to sit back down on the chair. Casual pose. An actor portraying someone who thinks he has all the time in the world. Except Alexis wouldn't be acting, and he's not as naive as Wesley continues to be.

David is the picture of innocence. Except he's using Angelus body language in a deliberate parody of both the character and himself. "What? I know nothing."

"No kidding," Alexis throws back at him with a quirk of the eyebrows that indicates David served the opportunity up and Alexis was happy to slam it right back over the net. Advantage: Denisof.

Alexis does sit then. Slumped. Body posture that would not make it to the screen but which isn't entirely his own either. It's a put-on. A study of alpha-masculine relaxation. Hips forward, shoulders rocking the chair back on two legs. One foot over to the side. One hand dangling a keychain against his thigh where it can perfectly reflect the overhead light.

David's not oblivious to the meaning of this. "Oh you're *kidding*."

Alexis grins, a perfect bastard. "They wanted to be sure someone would let you out."

David slides his arms through the bars, folding them around the outside as his body leans against the metal, shows that he's well aware he's going to be in there for a very long time, assuming Alexis decides to let him out at all. "And they trusted *you*?"

"They keep doing that, don't they?" Alexis marvels. He slips his middle finger into the keyring. Gives it a flick that makes the keys spin around and around. "So - would you like some coffee? Maybe an extra-large soda? I have a tape around here somewhere of a babbling brook. Want me to play it for you? You seem tense."

"Revenge is sweet," David reminds him.

"It really, *really* is," Alexis agrees. He dangles the keys like a cat toy, as though David were anywhere near close enough to being able to reach out for them.

"You'll get yours," David tells him.

"Someone would have to let you out first," Alexis makes a show of looking around. "You know, it'd be a *shame* if someone accidentally dropped these say, over there in the trash. Probably take forever to find them. Assuming someone didn't go home with them and then flush them down the toilet."

"Could flush them in the bathroom right here," David points out.

Alexis turns back to him. "Why are you helping me?"

David shrugs a single shoulder. "*No* idea. So what'd I do this time?"

"Made me *laugh*," Alexis punctuates the accusation with a single pointed finger. The keys glimmer inside the rest of his fisted palm. "You have to stop doing that."

David puffs himself up, sketching an ego out of thin-air that he doesn't actually have in any true incarnation of himself. "I am an *actor*. I am saying my *lines*. If *you* aren't professional enough to have *self-control* while I am *doing my craft* then - "

But it's no use, because Alexis is gone already. He gives David the finger as he tries to get past the laughter and form a reply. "Oh go to *Hell*. You've been doing it on purpose and you know it!"

David's back on innocent again. But there's a gleam in his eyes that reminds him that if Alexis had the easy volley before, it's now negated by the fact that David hasn't yet sent the ball *back*. "They said I could improv."

"In *character*," Alexis reminds him. He stands up, retaking the scant inch of advantage that his height allows him.

"I was in character," David defends himself. A shift of the shoulders changes his position. His arms go in, his body leans over to the side. They're standing face to face now, though there's still plenty of space and solid metal in between them.

Alexis folds his own arms. Aims for a tone that's something between scolding father and director who's over-tired from dealing with actors who won't stay on cue. "I somehow doubt Angelus would start talking about chickens while in character."

"You don't know," David says. "He might."

Alexis comes forward. There's a foot of room now. Alexis, foot, bars, David. The keys remain safely palmed in Alexis's fist. His fist rests at his side. He's smiling, but he keeps trying for stern. The problem is he's not really angry, and even talking about the jokes is enough to wake the energy up again. Synergy, except it's the wrong kind. It's the naughty schoolboy kind that inspires you to write rude things on chalkboards, share cigarettes behind bleachers, and put all sorts of inappropriate things into the tailpipes of teacher's cars. "You have to stop that."

"Or what?" David asks. "You'll *still* not let me out of here?"

"I could torture you," Alexis points out. He dangles the keys again. "There's so *much* I could do while you're in there. Starting with the fact that for some strange reason you thought it was a wise idea to leave your house keys and cellphone where I could reach them."

"You're digging your own grave," David tells him. "I'm gonna get out of here and when I do - "

"You'll what?" Alexis mocks. "Make me laugh to death?"

"Making you constantly flub your lines would only be the start," David says.

Alexis steps forward. "I'll do the same to you and worse."

"Says you."

"I've read ahead," Alexis tells him. "You're not the only one who has improvisation that he'll be allowed to do."

"I can resist," David bluffs.

"No, you can't," Alexis says.

"You certainly can't," David says, and the words are a strange kind of agreement and challenge all twisted into one.

The keys clank against something. The space was gone. Alexis, bars, David. Nothing else between them, and David's eyes show that yes, he still has the ball, and he's not giving the advantage up anytime soon.

Which is a mixed metaphor, or a wrong way of looking at it. But either way their lips are together, and one of them is clutching the bars, and one of them is moaning, and metal feels cool against hot flesh that's now trapped behind jeans, and David's tongue is strong and completely assured of itself, and the world is *there*, right *there* at the cusp of all this, just waiting to burst in through this bubble of David and him, him and David, and bring public reality and notice and obligations and *wrongness* right back down around them and -

They're apart. Alexis is gasping. He's definitely the one clinging to the bars now. If he didn't, he might not stand. David is calm, in a way that makes Alexis realize that David was *always* calm, for the entire exchange.

Still…

"You have to stop doing that," Alexis tells him.

David's eyes are pools of invitation, and confidence. "Make me."

The break is over. People return, bringing harsh noise and chaotic energy back with them. The moment shatters, and to look at David is to think that absolutely nothing happened at all.

Except the gleam never leaves David's eyes when he makes Alexis flub a line and later, much later, Alexis realizes that in spite of all that had happened, David never once tried to take the keys away from him.