Chapter 23: 23. It’s a Date

Shiro

Mike is attempting to kill me, and I’m not exaggerating. How else do you call shooting more of the romantic plotline today, with the rehearsal taking forever? Each detail must be flawless, so Mike nitpicks on every tiny aspect, unhappy with how the light reflects off my nose or Keith’s hair, or the pauses between replicas being too long or too short. 

After we’ve plodded through everything several times, I’m at the end of my patience, mere seconds away from snapping. In theory, having a gorgeous guy wrapped around me while we’re both wearing only skimpy undershirts sounds like a fun Tuesday, but in reality, it’s torture. Every time Mike says cut when I’m hovering over Keith, propping myself on my elbows, staring into those deep purple eyes, our faces so close that his breath fans over my cheeks, all I want to do is crush my mouth on his and then fuck him senseless without the cameras on us. 

But after each take, Mike only grumbles, tells the gaffers to adjust the lighting, or commands us to shift the angles of our heads and bodies, and it’s again from the top. Keith’s the ultimate professional, unruffled despite my large body crowding him into the bed, so I’m the only one with a problem. After the first kiss scene a week ago, he seemed sort of frazzled, hightailing out of set without a word, but once he got back, he acted with the same detached efficiency he uses to keep people at arm’s length. If I imagined something growing between us, it was only in my head. 

By the time Mike’s satisfied with the rehearsal and gives the green light to start shooting, my entire body is pumped full of adrenaline, jittery in the same way I used to get before take-off, only now it’s not the prospect of piloting an aircraft that twists my insides into a pretzel. No, it’s thanks to Keith sitting next to me on a cot in a fake cabin of a fake alien ship, occasionally bumping my elbow as he uses the breaks between takes to check his phone.

The bed is a nook embedded in the ship’s wall, and it looks extremely realistic, with its sleek lines and glinting with a metallic sheen, but it’s only a trick of plasterboard and cleverly applied paints. At least the pillows and blankets we use are genuine. Soft, too. To focus on something other than Keith’s proximity, I run my hand over the fabric until the thread is all ruffled.

“Okay, guys, let’s get a move on. Keith, when you hug Shiro, remember your head goes on his left shoulder because we need a clear shot at his face to see the pain in his eyes. Shiro, when he says, ‘The team needs you. I need you,’ flip him over, then a three-second pause, then tilt your face as though you want to kiss him, but Hunk will call for Akira on the com, and you’ll jump away. We’ll segue into the next scene right after, the ‘as many times as it takes.’ Got it?”

We both nod.

“And remember, Ryou returned after a month-long absence with his memories jumbled. He’s fragile and needs Akira more than ever, but he’s not sure where their relationship stands.” 

Ha. Talk about art imitating life. Keith blows hot and cold, confusing the hell out of me, so I won’t even need to pretend. 

“Yeah, we know, Mike. You told us about twenty times already,” Keith says.

“Then act like it and show me some fucking emotions, will you? The viewers should cry their hearts out over this, so make them feel it.”

Keith rolls his eyes carefully so that Mike doesn’t notice. A smile tugs at my lips, but I smother it. No smiling today. This is serious business. We arrange ourselves into the required positions. Keith shifts closer to me and covers my hand with his long fingers. Only the weeks of shooting together allow me not to react, regardless of how much I want to pull his hand against my chest and keep it there.

“Ready?” Another nod from both of us. 

“Action!”

“We found you!” Keith!Akira throws his arms around me and, per Mike’s instructions, buries his head into my left shoulder. His body molds to mine, shorting out my brain for a hot second. Since I’m only wearing a tank top and Keith a tight black tee, I register every delicious inch of his form. My fingers clutch at his back, kneading the wiry muscles that tighten under my touch. Is he doing it on purpose? How? I give a shuddery laugh and gently push him away to examine his face.

“I knew you’d never stop looking.” Now comes the moment when my character should stroke Akira’s cheek, so I dully follow, trying to ignore Keith’s soft skin or the prickle of his stubble. Trying to ignore the desire to lick the tender spot under his jaw. My cock aches, but I will it down, thankful I jerked off before the shoot. A practice I adopted since my scenes require that I intimately touch a guy who’s corroding my restraint. No way I could otherwise get through today, or every other day, without embarrassing myself. 

“I’ll always come for you, Ryou,” Keith says softly. Then he shakes his head. “What do you remember?” 

“Not much. Flashes of battle. Zarkon trying to overtake the Black Lion. It told me to use my bayard. Then just… nothing. I woke up, and I was back on a Galra ship.”

“Well, you’d just unlocked the Black Lion’s ability to teleport. Could it have teleported you? Maybe it was trying to save you.” 

“By teleporting me into the hands of the Galra?”

“Maybe Zarkon forced it to.” Keith!Akira scrambles to find out some explanation for the weird series of events. “I mean, he was trying to control the Black Lion up until the very last moment, right?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Well, if you’re feeling up to it, the rest of the team would be thrilled to see you up and around again. They need you, you know. I need you.”

A groan, which might or might not have been planned, escapes me as I follow the script and toss Keith around like a rag doll. He goes limp, lying on the bed, while I brace myself on the forearms and position myself atop him. There’s the three-second pause Mike wanted. One second for staring into Keith’s eyes, with pupils dilated so much his irises are reduced to thin purple bands. The second one for noticing how his body trembles with barely contained need. Third one for my gaze dipping to his plush, kissable mouth. I lower my head, ready to claim those lips when Hunk’s voice crackles from the com.

“Akira? You’re needed on the bridge.” 

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With tremendous effort, I pull back as the scene dictates, annoyed that no one claps the toll this action takes on me. How much easier would it be to tell everyone to fuck off and test if Keith’s just a good actor or if the energy sizzling between us is real? I’m not a betting man, but I’d be willing to put all my money on option number two.

“Cut! Good job, guys. Shiro, your facial expressions—absolutely perfect.”

That’s excellent. Now, if only I wouldn’t have to pay for them with my sanity.

“Let’s do a repeat just in case, exactly the same, and move on.” 

Great. When I signed the contract, I didn’t know I was also signing up for a case of blue balls. Thankfully, the second take goes smoothly, and we’re able to leave the scene behind fast. I’ve never been so grateful for anything in my life and judged by Keith’s scowl, he’s in the same boat.

Once we finish the follow-up scene, Mike releases us, and Keith vanishes without a word. It’s almost as though the more intimate our relationship grows on screen, the less he tries to interact after the cameras stop rolling. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping the job separate from real life. Who am I to judge? After all, Lance mentioned Keith is famous for rarely interacting with fans and colleagues, and I can write off his extending a helping hand to me as a fluke. He must have felt sorry for me. There’s not much I can do about that, so I try not to let it bother me and settle nearby to watch Katie’s scene. 

“Hey, Shiro.” Curtis approaches me, a coffee cup in hand. “You like caramel macchiatos, right?” 

“Sure do. Nice of you to remember.”

“It’s sort of my job to keep the talent happy.” He gives me a toothy smile as he hands over the cup. Our fingers graze, but there’s no spark jumping between us, no fluttering in my stomach. Typical. I have to find the closed-off, unavailable guy attractive. Not the one I might actually have a chance with. Still, attraction can grow over time, and if there’s one thing for certain, it’s that I need to get laid. As of yesterday. It’s been a while since Adam. My poor, barely healed arm deserves better than this kind of strain.

“And here I was, feeling special,” I say.

“You definitely are.” This time, the heat in his gaze is unmistakable. “Great job on the scene, by the way.”

“Thanks. You watched?”

“As much as I could between Acxa, Mike, and a bunch of spoiled actors running me ragged,” he laughs.

“On behalf of the spoiled actor group, I apologize.”

“Nah, not your fault. You’re always so polite. When I write my Hollywood memoirs, you’ll come out looking really great in them. Unless, of course, the fame goes to your head.” 

“That’s a relief.” I grin at him. Too focused on not messing up my new job and getting along with my capricious co-star, I forgot to get to know other people working on the production. Turns out, Curtis is funny and not too hard on the eyes.

“Could I take you out to dinner sometime?” he asks, stepping closer and laying his hand on my arm. The question takes me aback for a split second. 

“We’re, um, we’re coworkers. Won’t that be a problem?”

“Relax, Shiro. This isn’t military. We’re allowed to date as long as we clear it with HR, and it doesn’t disrupt the shooting. People are always fucking around on set.”

“What a fun tradition,” I deadpan, although, at the moment, it does actually seem fun. Curtis leans closer and whispers into my ear. 

“It can be.” 

“Yeah, okay. It’s a date,” I say, a little dazed. Lance always teases me about having no game, and he’s not wrong. Good thing he’s not around to rib me about this.

“Looking forward to it,” Curtis says and withdraws, but not before winking at me. 

“Yeah. So do I.”

I think. Not like I have anything to lose. Right? 

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