http://ocelotkitty.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
ocelotkitty.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wl_fanfiction2012-11-20 05:48 pm
ocelotkitty.livejournal.com) wrote in wl_fanfiction2012-11-20 05:48 pm
Entry tags:
[FIC] Ever After (Chapter 5/11)
Title: Ever After
Main Pairing: Jeff/Greg, with background Chip/Wayne and Colin/Ryan
Rating: R for language
Total Word Count: 17,890
Chapter Word Count: 1,265
Summary: Jeff’s a directionally challenged actor who can’t seem to catch a break. Chip promises that Jeff’s new GPS will be the solution to all of his problems, but why does it seem to cause more problems than it solves? Will Chip turn out to be right in the end? (Spoiler alert: of course he will. This is, after all, a fairy tale.)
Special Thanks: to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sungreen70 for patiently (lol) championing this story from its humble beginnings in 2009, subtly (lol) suggesting I finish it while recovering at home from surgery, and going above and beyond as a beta reader despite all the other demands — including Hurricane Sandy and a presidential election! — on her time. You are amazing! ♥
Jeff awoke to the rhythmic sounds of his upstairs neighbour vacuuming over his head. RRRR-rrrr. RRRR-rrrr. Songs of the vacuum cleaner. It didn’t sound much like a German cabaret, he thought. Jeff lay in bed, musing about what sort of person would leap out of bed at sunrise just to vacuum. Chip would, he thought. No, he didn’t want to think about Chip today. He especially didn’t want to think about Chip leaping out of Wayne’s bed this morning for a bit of nude housekeeping. Jeff grimaced. Too late.
Jeff rolled over and faced his nightstand. Almost without thinking, he switched his phone off and the GPS on.
“Eternal Ocelot, open my lips that my mouth may declare Your glory....”
Jeff drew his hand back. “Greg?”
A series of startled beeps issued forth from the GPS. “Hey, good morning to you, too, sunshine.”
“What was that about eternal... ocelots?”
“OceLOT, singular. It’s not a pantheon, there’s only one.”
“I... see,” Jeff said, although he didn’t.
“Got any plans for today?” Greg asked, his manner brisk and efficient. “Any exits you need signposted, any challenging right turns you need to be warned about?”
Jeff sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “No, not really,” he said. What he wouldn’t give to have something, anything, on his calendar!
Greg blew out a breath of static. “Look, you know what your problem is?”
“Of course I know what my problem is.” There was an edge to Jeff’s voice. “Or should I say, what my problems ARE.” Parroting Greg, he said, “I don’t just have one, I have a whole pantheon.”
Greg was startled into silence for a moment, then muttered something that sounded like, “Well, well, the kid’s got spunk.”
“I thought you said you’d been paying attention,” Jeff continued. “But in case you’ve forgotten, let me recap. My agent — sorry, make that former agent — thinks I’m unreliable, Chip thinks I’m something to be pitied, Wayne thinks I’m not funny enough or good enough in bed or whatever, and the Dutch owner of a restaurant in Alhambra thinks I’m a fucking lunatic who holds debates with his steering wheel.”
“But what does Jeff think?” Greg asked.
“What do you mean, what do I think?”
“I mean, are those all things you believe about yourself? Or are you just taking what other people say at face value?”
Jeff said nothing.
“You can let other people tell you what to do sometimes, but you can’t let anyone tell you who you are. That’s your call, Jeff. Your call entirely. Life’s just gonna pass you by if you don’t stop being so passive.”
“I’m not passive,” Jeff said reflexively, but even as the words exited his mouth he knew he was kidding himself. I let everyone boss me around, he thought. And when I have a problem, I just sit there until Chip or somebody drags it out of me — and then goes ahead and solves the damn thing. Jeff looked at Greg, who was glowing patiently on the nightstand. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “I am passive. I don’t want to be, but I am.” He looked hopefully at Greg.
Greg sighed. “So I suppose this is the part where I’m supposed to tell you how to be less passive, is that right? You don’t see the inherent flaw in that plan?”
Jeff smiled weakly. “It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?”
“Like rain on your wedding day,” Greg said. “Okay, look. I can’t just wave some magic fucking wand over you and turn you into somebody else. But what I can do is give you a push in the right direction now and then. It’s like when you’re driving. I can tell you which exit to take, but it’s up to you to actually get off the freeway. Got it?”
“Got it,” Jeff said.
“Good. We’ll start by — no, wait. That’s up to you. What do you want to sort out first?”
“This thing with my agent,” Jeff said, without even having to think it over. “I want to work. I need to work. Everything else can wait.”
“Right,” Greg said, and for a moment Jeff thought he detected a note of relief in his voice. What was that about?
“What’s really important right now is the Whose Line movie. They’re only going to go ahead with it if they can get a certain number of us on board, and I think they’re at a point now where one person can make or break this,” Jeff explained. “Chip and Wayne are in, and Colin wants to do it as a break from his touring schedule. Ryan’s production company is bankrolling the picture, so he’ll be involved for sure. Oh, and Drew’ll be part of it, too, since it was his idea,” Jeff said, counting each person off on his fingers. “They really want to have six of us, though, and I know they’re having trouble getting any of the other old cast members to sign on.”
“How come?” Greg asked. “Seems like it’d be a pretty lucrative gig.”
“Well, yes and no. It’s a drop in the bucket compared to what Brad’s getting paid to do those kitty litter infomercials, so he turned it down. I think he also said something about the movie ‘not aligning with his current sensibilities’, whatever that means. Ever since he got his doctorate he’s been pretty incoherent.”
“He means the movie won’t be crap, unlike the shit he’s been peddling on late-night TV.”
Jeff laughed. “Pretty much. Oh, and I know there was some interest from Denny, but Drew actually said no. She was before my time. I don’t know exactly what went on back then, but man, those two have never gotten along. It’s crazy, really. I’ve seen her stuff, and she was really good.”
“Okay. It doesn’t sound like you’d need to audition, so you probably just need to express your interest to the right people. Would that be Drew, or Ryan?”
Jeff’s cheeks coloured slightly. “Well, that’s kind of the problem. This is the sort of thing I’d normally leave to my agent.” Along with everything else, Jeff added silently.
“Well, you just said that Drew said no to Denny, so that implies he’s got some sort of say in the decision-making. Why don’t you try him first?”
“I will,” Jeff said, feeling more sure of himself than he had in a long time. “I’ll call him right now.”
Greg watched Jeff leave the room in search of Drew’s number. As soon as he was out of sight, Greg let his screen change from a lively orange to a deep, pensive blue. “‘You can’t let anyone tell you who you are,’” Greg said, mimicking himself. “‘Otherwise life’s going to pass you by.’” Christ on a motherfucking cracker, he thought. Why was it so easy to spout the Dr. Phil stuff at someone else, but so damn hard to actually do it yourself? He tried to remember whether any of Dr. Phil’s guests had ever faced the challenge of escaping from a piece of technology after years of confinement, but he came up blank. Maybe there’d been one in season seven, he mused. He’d missed most the shows that year, for reasons he’d rather forget. Life is passing me by, Greg thought. I pretend to have all the answers, but I’m no less passive than Jeff is. Difference is, Jeff’s got someone to help him now. Who do I have? Greg wondered, as his screen slowly faded to black. Who the hell would want to help me?
Main Pairing: Jeff/Greg, with background Chip/Wayne and Colin/Ryan
Rating: R for language
Total Word Count: 17,890
Chapter Word Count: 1,265
Summary: Jeff’s a directionally challenged actor who can’t seem to catch a break. Chip promises that Jeff’s new GPS will be the solution to all of his problems, but why does it seem to cause more problems than it solves? Will Chip turn out to be right in the end? (Spoiler alert: of course he will. This is, after all, a fairy tale.)
Special Thanks: to
sungreen70 for patiently (lol) championing this story from its humble beginnings in 2009, subtly (lol) suggesting I finish it while recovering at home from surgery, and going above and beyond as a beta reader despite all the other demands — including Hurricane Sandy and a presidential election! — on her time. You are amazing! ♥Jeff awoke to the rhythmic sounds of his upstairs neighbour vacuuming over his head. RRRR-rrrr. RRRR-rrrr. Songs of the vacuum cleaner. It didn’t sound much like a German cabaret, he thought. Jeff lay in bed, musing about what sort of person would leap out of bed at sunrise just to vacuum. Chip would, he thought. No, he didn’t want to think about Chip today. He especially didn’t want to think about Chip leaping out of Wayne’s bed this morning for a bit of nude housekeeping. Jeff grimaced. Too late.
Jeff rolled over and faced his nightstand. Almost without thinking, he switched his phone off and the GPS on.
“Eternal Ocelot, open my lips that my mouth may declare Your glory....”
Jeff drew his hand back. “Greg?”
A series of startled beeps issued forth from the GPS. “Hey, good morning to you, too, sunshine.”
“What was that about eternal... ocelots?”
“OceLOT, singular. It’s not a pantheon, there’s only one.”
“I... see,” Jeff said, although he didn’t.
“Got any plans for today?” Greg asked, his manner brisk and efficient. “Any exits you need signposted, any challenging right turns you need to be warned about?”
Jeff sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “No, not really,” he said. What he wouldn’t give to have something, anything, on his calendar!
Greg blew out a breath of static. “Look, you know what your problem is?”
“Of course I know what my problem is.” There was an edge to Jeff’s voice. “Or should I say, what my problems ARE.” Parroting Greg, he said, “I don’t just have one, I have a whole pantheon.”
Greg was startled into silence for a moment, then muttered something that sounded like, “Well, well, the kid’s got spunk.”
“I thought you said you’d been paying attention,” Jeff continued. “But in case you’ve forgotten, let me recap. My agent — sorry, make that former agent — thinks I’m unreliable, Chip thinks I’m something to be pitied, Wayne thinks I’m not funny enough or good enough in bed or whatever, and the Dutch owner of a restaurant in Alhambra thinks I’m a fucking lunatic who holds debates with his steering wheel.”
“But what does Jeff think?” Greg asked.
“What do you mean, what do I think?”
“I mean, are those all things you believe about yourself? Or are you just taking what other people say at face value?”
Jeff said nothing.
“You can let other people tell you what to do sometimes, but you can’t let anyone tell you who you are. That’s your call, Jeff. Your call entirely. Life’s just gonna pass you by if you don’t stop being so passive.”
“I’m not passive,” Jeff said reflexively, but even as the words exited his mouth he knew he was kidding himself. I let everyone boss me around, he thought. And when I have a problem, I just sit there until Chip or somebody drags it out of me — and then goes ahead and solves the damn thing. Jeff looked at Greg, who was glowing patiently on the nightstand. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “I am passive. I don’t want to be, but I am.” He looked hopefully at Greg.
Greg sighed. “So I suppose this is the part where I’m supposed to tell you how to be less passive, is that right? You don’t see the inherent flaw in that plan?”
Jeff smiled weakly. “It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?”
“Like rain on your wedding day,” Greg said. “Okay, look. I can’t just wave some magic fucking wand over you and turn you into somebody else. But what I can do is give you a push in the right direction now and then. It’s like when you’re driving. I can tell you which exit to take, but it’s up to you to actually get off the freeway. Got it?”
“Got it,” Jeff said.
“Good. We’ll start by — no, wait. That’s up to you. What do you want to sort out first?”
“This thing with my agent,” Jeff said, without even having to think it over. “I want to work. I need to work. Everything else can wait.”
“Right,” Greg said, and for a moment Jeff thought he detected a note of relief in his voice. What was that about?
“What’s really important right now is the Whose Line movie. They’re only going to go ahead with it if they can get a certain number of us on board, and I think they’re at a point now where one person can make or break this,” Jeff explained. “Chip and Wayne are in, and Colin wants to do it as a break from his touring schedule. Ryan’s production company is bankrolling the picture, so he’ll be involved for sure. Oh, and Drew’ll be part of it, too, since it was his idea,” Jeff said, counting each person off on his fingers. “They really want to have six of us, though, and I know they’re having trouble getting any of the other old cast members to sign on.”
“How come?” Greg asked. “Seems like it’d be a pretty lucrative gig.”
“Well, yes and no. It’s a drop in the bucket compared to what Brad’s getting paid to do those kitty litter infomercials, so he turned it down. I think he also said something about the movie ‘not aligning with his current sensibilities’, whatever that means. Ever since he got his doctorate he’s been pretty incoherent.”
“He means the movie won’t be crap, unlike the shit he’s been peddling on late-night TV.”
Jeff laughed. “Pretty much. Oh, and I know there was some interest from Denny, but Drew actually said no. She was before my time. I don’t know exactly what went on back then, but man, those two have never gotten along. It’s crazy, really. I’ve seen her stuff, and she was really good.”
“Okay. It doesn’t sound like you’d need to audition, so you probably just need to express your interest to the right people. Would that be Drew, or Ryan?”
Jeff’s cheeks coloured slightly. “Well, that’s kind of the problem. This is the sort of thing I’d normally leave to my agent.” Along with everything else, Jeff added silently.
“Well, you just said that Drew said no to Denny, so that implies he’s got some sort of say in the decision-making. Why don’t you try him first?”
“I will,” Jeff said, feeling more sure of himself than he had in a long time. “I’ll call him right now.”
Greg watched Jeff leave the room in search of Drew’s number. As soon as he was out of sight, Greg let his screen change from a lively orange to a deep, pensive blue. “‘You can’t let anyone tell you who you are,’” Greg said, mimicking himself. “‘Otherwise life’s going to pass you by.’” Christ on a motherfucking cracker, he thought. Why was it so easy to spout the Dr. Phil stuff at someone else, but so damn hard to actually do it yourself? He tried to remember whether any of Dr. Phil’s guests had ever faced the challenge of escaping from a piece of technology after years of confinement, but he came up blank. Maybe there’d been one in season seven, he mused. He’d missed most the shows that year, for reasons he’d rather forget. Life is passing me by, Greg thought. I pretend to have all the answers, but I’m no less passive than Jeff is. Difference is, Jeff’s got someone to help him now. Who do I have? Greg wondered, as his screen slowly faded to black. Who the hell would want to help me?