[FIC] Words Are Loaded Pistols, Use Them At Your Peril - Chapter 3, Part A

[cryforthemoon.livejournal.com]

Title: Words are loaded pistols, use them at your peril.
Author: cryforthemoon and psykotropik
Rating: PG (We reckon)
Main Character(s): Tony Slattery/John Sessions 
Summary: This is the first part of the third chapter in an ongoing story. This is held around and after the seventh episode of the first series, in 1988, after John and Tony's awkward time out.
These stories are an insight as to what went on behind the scenes, perhaps explaining some of the onstage behaviour, and off stage affairs that were adored and displayed by the press.

Chapter 2

'Is my tie on straight? Does this shirt even look okay? Oh, bloody hell, I haven't even picked an author! Why is my mind so occupied?' There were just a few of the thoughts running through Tonys mind, sitting on his own in the little sitting room backstage. Was it so bad that all he could think about was his last encounter with John? He shook his head and clasped his hands together in front of him

He was distracted from his turbulent thoughts by the sound of male voices, growing steadily louder as the speakers walked down the corridor towards the door of the room. They sounded cheerful enough, but Tony was still on edge when the door swung open and two men entered the room, both with a considerable amount of facial hair.

They stopped short at the sight of Tony, before the taller of the two stepped forward, shaking his long hair out of his eyes, smiling and offering his hand for Tony to shake. "You must be Tony Slattery. Good to meet you. I'm Jonathan and this," he gestured behind him at the other man, "is Rory."

He blinked, coming out of his short thought induced trance, and stood up to shake the hand of the man who had introduced himself first. A smile slowly replaced the thoughtful, lost look on his face as he came to. "Very nice to meet you both" Tony had said politely, shaking Jonathans hand before reaching over to shake Rorys hand

Tony cleared his throat and sat back down again, smoothing off his jacket as he did. A nervous habit of his... it was either that or playing with his hands. Just one of those few quirks he had. "Are you looking forward to the show?" he asked the two men, wondering where John had got too.

Jonathan walked over to the other couch, almost flinging himself onto it with more grace than would've been expected for his tall frame. Rory moved to lean against the wall and twiddled his thumbs. Jonathan smiled warmly at Tony. "Oh, definitely. I'm not too sure that I'm looking forward to working with John again, though - hogs the stage a bit and he messed up on a sketch last time I was here."

"John messed up?" he asked, leaning forward, hands together, arms rested over his knees. He was interested now... "What on earth happened? Clive didn't just ask him to dance or something, did he?" he added jokingly.

Rory snorted, presumably at the thought of John dancing. Jonathan shook his head, chuckling. "No, nothing like that. It was a Party Quirks, Paul hosting, and John was meant to be someone who thought he was underwater. Ten seconds in he said something about navels underwater and realised what he'd done! Called himself an imbecile, would you believe. Poor chap, he was so embarrassed.He wasn't really with it for the whole game, really."

Tony looked at Jonathan with a mild look of disbelief, eyebrows perked and eyes a little wider than they should have been. Slwly, he leaned back again, bringing a hand up to his chin, finger touching his bottom lip. "Now that is unusual..." he replied after thinking a moment. "I'm sure he was just tired or something" Tony added, shrugging and resting his hands in his lap again.

Jonathan furrowed his brow. "That's what I thought. But I think that he and Paul Merton had a slight argument before the taping; he nearly didn't get up for the first game! Looked like he was lost in thought, then went straight home afterwards, didn't even stay around to say goodbye." Rory shrugged. "Probably just playing the part of the poncey actor."

An argument.... enough to make him that annoyed? What was it about? Tony wondered if perhaps John had more on his mind than an argument... if they had maybe been thinking about the same thing. Hardly likely. It was probably just the argument with Paul... sleep deprivation... none of it seemed to make any sense though.

Tony just nodded, really unsure as of what to say without gaining any attention. To show too much care usually caused people to raise more than an eyebrow and a few questions. "I wonder where he is today then..." he said thoughtfully.

"Y'know, that's a good question." Rory looked up from his hands to glance at Tony. "He's meant to be incredibly reliable - it's not like him to be late." Jonathan shrugged, looking amazingly relaxed as he did so. "I shouldn't worry - he's probably stuck in traffic or something. Good thing it's not Friday, or he'd probably be on the other side of London."

"I'm suddenly getting dejavuh...." Tony said, blinking and shaking his head. His confused look faded into a little smile as he looked up from his lap. "The only difference was, it was Paul complaining about the traffic" he chuckled, slowly standing up. So what was John going to do... rush in and say he was sorry, the alarm clock didn't go off? Tony looked at his watch.... not long to go now.

The door suddenly opened and a blonde woman holding a clipboard popped into the room. "Hi, guys. John's running a bit late - we just got a call from him and he said he's about five minutes away, but we need you onstage now so we can start as soon as he gets her." She gave them an apologetic grimace. "Sorry about this. We're running a tight ship here!"

She walked out of the room, her expectation for them to follow her obvious in the glance she threw over her shoulder. Rory straightened up and walked quickly out of the door; the two others followed suit, Jonathan getting up with the same agile grace with which he'd sat down.

Out of usual habbit, Tony smoothed his trousers off and made his way to the door. So John was on his way? That was good news... but what would the tension be like now, he wondered. He just shook his head and kept walking down the hall. He hadn't evne wished Rory and Jonathan good luck... his mind was too preoccupied. The got on set and were shown to their seats

Tony sat down, cleared his throat, and tried to force a small smile. All he had to do was cover up his worried look.

There had been a smattering of applause and excited whispering when he, Rory and Jonathan had taken their seats; now there were murmurs spreading throughout the audience like small flames. He could guess what they were about - the empty seat at the end of the row of chairs set out for the performers was no doubt raising questions as to where John was.

He heard running footsteps and a moment later John half-ran onto the red carpet behind the chairs, red and panting. He waved apologetically at the director and collapsed into his seat, nodding breathlessly at Rory's quiet enquiry as to whether he'd like some water.

Two minutes later, the signal for applause from the audience was given ("Polite clapping, please, ladies and gentleman, you're not at a football match.") and the show began.

Another successful filming and they were done, the audiences applause the only thing that lingered on behind their footsteps as they made their way backstage again. Tony dipped his head and walked into the sitting room first, sitting down on the sofa and letting out a long sigh as everyone walked in.

He looked up from the floor to see who had walked in before smiling faintly. "That went well" he said, clapping his hands together in front of him.

Rory was almost literally bouncing off the walls, elated with his win and the feeling of completion that came from taping an episode. "It was brilliant! God, I just hope my mother doesn't start going on at me about how she isn't like that at all. I can't believe I won, though! Pub? I'm buying." He looked around eagerly. Jonathan shook his head.

"I can't, I'm afraid - I've got to be up early tomorrow for a film audition. Terry Gilliam's directing, so I need to be on the ball."

"Damn, that's a shame. Fair enough - you're missing out, though!" Rory turned to Tony. "Tony, what about you? No important audtitions to go to tomorrow?" He grinned.

"I think I'll sort a few things with my agent and go home... it feels like it's already been an incredibly long day" Tony said, breathing out heavilly as if trying not to yawn. He didn't look at John, but hoped he would be staying behind. "Oh, and a few things here it would seem... hopefully it's good news" he said, faking a look of anticipation.

John glanced at him quickly, a brief moment of what looked like hope flashing across his face. He turned to Rory, who was now looking at him expectantly. "I need to sort out a couple of things here, too - I'll try and get down to the pub, but it depends on how long it takes for me to persuade Dan to spend more on props!" There was a hint of nervousness in his voice as he laughed.

Rory rolled his eyes. "No matter, I'll call my wife and ask her if she's up for an Indian. I need to celebrate somehow!"

Tony had chuckled a little at Rory's reaction to John. Granted, he did feel a little bad about not joining Rory to help celebrate but really, there were other things on his mind, and if John was staying behind, even better. All he had to do was catch him before he left to see Dan, and they could talk.

"You'll probably have more fun with a take out anyway" Tony shrugged a little, staying where he was. "Better than staying around a bunch of boring sods like us..." he said, looking at John out the corner of his eye, a little smile in place.

Rory chuckled. "True - and I have more chance of getting a shag at the end of the evening, too!" He winked at Tony. "Right - I'll sod off, then. Jonathan, you coming?" Jonathan nodded and got up, nodding at John and Tony on his way out. Rory held the door open for him and paused before he left, presumably to call his wife.

"It was great working with you two - hopefully they'll have me back and we can do it again. Cheerio!" The door closed behind him and a sudden tension was injected into the room's atmosphere. John, looking determinedly at his fingers, twisting them in the fabric of his trousers, spoke first. "I don't need to see Dan, y'know."

He waited until the room was quiet... not even a foot step in the hall, eyes on John. "Neither do I" Tony replied, looking over to John. He was leaning over with his fingers clasped together. "Not Dan anyone... in fact, I don't really have much else to do besides go home..." he said, shrugging a little. "Although... there are a few things on mind... like... our last meeting" he said calmly.

"Yeah." John suddenly looked nervous; he chewed his lip and started to examine his fingernails. He glanced at Tony before looking nervously at his shoes. "I was - we were both very drunk. I probably wouldn't have...y'know. If I'd been sober."

"If it wasn't for the fact that you're stammering so much, I would normally shrug it off and assume you are telling the truth" he said, standing up, not even bothering to dust himself off in the odd little way he usually did. "You're either letting your career lie for you, or you really do mean what you're saying, and for some reason I doubt the latter"

A wry smile crept over John's face. He ran a hand through his curly hair and shook his head, almost chuckling. "You're very observant, Tony." He stood up to match the other man's height, any trace of a smile now wiped from his face. He looked at a point somewhere past Tony's right shoulder, back to nervously biting his lip.

"All right. I didn't mean what I just said. If you want some honesty, I'd been thinking about kissing you two minutes after I met you."

"Then why didn't you just say?" he said quietly, standing in front of John. It was asked as a question but pronounced like a statement, carrying across two obvious meanings. "Try looking at me and telling me that" he said, bravely putting his fingers under Johns jaw and tilting his head so that John was facing him. Tonys eyes looked straight into Johns as he waited for an answer.

John tried not to blink or shy away from Tony's hand at his jaw. When his answer came, it was soft, barely audible. "Like I said, being who I am could jeapordise my whole career." He swallowed, feeling Tony's warm fingers pressing against his skin. "I don't believe in cliches like love at first sight. Lust at first sight, sure. Happens a million times a day.

"I deny myself certain things all the time - cigarettes, another joke to get the applause, human company. Like I said, my career." He smiled and swallowed again; his mouth felt uncomfortably dry and he was aware that Tony's hand was still on his face, almost cradling his cheek. "Like I said, I don't believe in cliches and I do believe in denial. But...I'm finding it bloody hard to deny myself you."

Tony listened to everything John was saying, eyes not leaving his. His hand stayed where it was, thumb close to Johns lips. "People of our stature and beyond have two lives, John... you should know that. There's a life people see on the covers of every tabloid, and every womans magazine around the country. And then there's the life we keep hidden, beyond the folds and skins of our exterior tales"

His eyes looked into Johns, searching. "You're denying alot to yourself, and you're scared... and you're not the only one who's not terribly fond of companionship in a romantic sense either, I can tell you that... maybe... maybe you're different though"

"How the hell do you me so well?" John murmured, tilting his head a fraction so that Tony's thumb rested against his bottom lip. He idly wondered how it was that Tony had come so close to him without him noticing before raising his hand and resting it on Tony's waist, the solid warmth reassuring him that this wasn't simply a dream.

"Two lives?" he mused, his gaze concentrated on Tony's mouth, watching as the other man's tongue flickered across his lips momentarily. He pulled Tony towards him, their faces instantly becoming a lot closer together. He could feel warm gusts of breath against his skin, saw his other hand come up, apparently of its own accord, to stroke the hair at the nape of Tony's neck. "For some reason, I quite like the thought of that."

"Let's go somewhere else" he whispered to John, face so close to the other mans that he could feel his breath on his skin. "Let's go back to my place... it's not too far away..." he added quietly, as if scared incase someone was listening.

John swallowed, the points of contact between him and Tony suddenly seeming like they were the only parts of his own body that he could feel. He tilted his head and gently brushed his mouth against Tony's. "It's been a while since I was last invited back to someone's place," he murmured, still holding the other man close. "If you want me, you've got me. At least for tonight."

"That's all I ask" he said, pressing his lips to Johns with a deep breath through his nose. "Come then..." he said, pulling back, a smile in place. "We best be going" he added. Not that it needed to be said really. He led John out into the hall and into the streets of London, hailing down a taxi cab for the two to get back to his. He gave the location and the driver pulled off.