The Monkey King

Saiyuki AU

Paring: 39

Rating: T+

AN: For the lovely occasion of samsarapine's birthday with the prompt of 'Paradise'. I hope she enjoys the chaos and rampant bad jokes!

"CUT!!! You're doing it wrong! What the hell's your name again? Yeah, you, the kid playing Goku, I swear, where do they find these idiots? Look," Sebastian tossed the rolled up script onto his director's chair, leaning on his knees to push himself up and stomped frustrated towards the stage. Clasping the wide-eyed kid's shoulders he man-handled him into position, tilting the red-lacquered staff above his head at a 45-degree angle. "You hold it like this so the reflection doesn't hit the camera lens. Got it?"

Gold contacts met dark amethyst for a moment, his breath seemed wrest from his lungs before he managed to tear away and jerk a thumb at the bald guy playing the monk, "And you! The line is 'Weeping eyes meeting weeping eyes; One broken heart coming across another'. You got it? And don't flail around so much, he's monk, not a chorus girl at Harrah's. Jesus Christ." He groaned, stalking back towards the chair and plopping down dejectedly.

He rubbed the grime from beneath the heavy black frames of his glasses and frowned for the rest of the shoot. Sometimes he wished he could just throw the moron out of the movie and do the monk's role himself. At least he knew what timing was! He groaned as the last line was delivered, seven times, before they got it right and he could call an end to the painfully excruciating day.

***

"Hey, Mr. Director?"

Sebastian turned to glance over his shoulder, stifling the roll of his eyes heavenwards as the kid playing the monkey king bounded over to him. His hair was still wet from the showers, its light brown mop even spikier than when he was in costume. The faux leopard print wrap and leather britches had been replaced with shredded jean shorts and a sleeveless tank that accented the lean muscles of his arms and chest. The creepy gold cat eyed contacts were gone, thank fuck, he thought, although the warm honey brown orbs the guy naturally sported seemed to glow even more than the fakes.

To bad he was so short.

"What do you want…er…?"

"Gregory. Gregory Cross." He beamed triumphantly.

"Yeah, right, what do you want Gregory?"

"I was hoping you'd be free for a drink actually."

Sebastian's brow arched delicately up into the long blond fringe darting into his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me. Why the hell would I do something like that?" he snorted.

Gregory smirked, leaning past him and muttering close to his ear, "Because of Paradise Lost. I'll be ready in five, see you out front!"

Sebastian blanched. He hadn't expected to ever here those two words again. EVER. Just his freaking luck some snot nosed twerp barely out of his diapers should get onto his film lot and know who he was; let alone that God awful mistake. He groaned and rubbed his eyes again, pocketing the glasses as he pulled on the padded black vest. Fine, he'd go for a drink with the punk, he'd set him straight about Paradise Lost and if he persisted, he'd sack him from the film. If all else failed there was plenty of desert around Vegas to dump the body.

He grinned around a cigarette, while fishing his cell out of his pocket. He liked that last thought a bit too much maybe, but hey, he was in the movies, it was part of the job description to have a dark side and be creepy. Flipping the phone open he thumbed the speed dial and lit up just outside the stage doors.

"Thomas, you at home or with that reject boyfriend of yours?"

"Sebastian?" A lazy yawn greeted him over the line.

"Tch, idiot. Look, I got a problem I need you to look into fast."

"Name?"

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder wearily, "Gregory Cross. He's like ten or something, brown hair and eyes, goofy grin. I don't know, maybe 5'6"? Find out everything and email me asap."

"Ten?" the clear voice repeated amused.

"Looks it, probably closer to 18, but hey, this is Vegas, anything goes, right?" He could almost here the other nod back through the phone as he scratched the information on a note pad; Thomas was so predictably organized. That's probably why he made a great attorney.

"Will do, what's the time line?"

"Say an hour to be safe. If you don't hear back from me, start planning my alibi."

"Got it, and Sebastian…be safe."

"Yeah, yeah, freaking mother hen," he muttered half-heartedly as the stage door was kicked open roughly.

"Hey! You waited, cool. You want one of the casinos or a club?" Gregory bounced over to him with requisite stupid grin plastered across his face.

"Whatever, you're the one who wanted to drink, right?" he took a deep drag of his cigarette and pushed off the wall, following as Gregory headed off towards Treasure Island.

"I got a friend who works as a buccaneer at night, stupid costume, but he swears the bar has a decent selection of hard liquor. You're a fan of Jack & Coke, right?" Gregory scrunched up his nose at the thought but kept walking, fingers loosely twined behind his head as he tried another tactic to get the taciturn director to open up a bit.

"My friend, he was the one who first showed me Paradise. At first it totally grossed me out, I mean, I wasn't interested in that type of stuff at all, you know? But then I saw a few others, Out of Eden, Follow the Silk Cord, even My Cross to Bear. A few months back I re-watched Paradise and finally it clicked for me, I realized it wasn't what they were saying or what they were doing, but what they weren't saying. I think having everything told by third-parties was an amazing effect; it drew you in even if you didn't want to."

He grinned back at the stupefied Sebastian, "You really captured me with that film, it's the reason I auditioned for this one, I wanted to be apart of the magic you weave. *heh* I guess you could say I really just wanted to meet you."

"Oh God…you're a fucking fan boy." Sebastian groaned, of course he'd be stuck with a crazy kid who had nothing better to do than stalk an under paid, obscure director with a handful of Indie Films under his belt and one Cannes Award nomination.

Gregory stopped dead, a frown pulling his lips as he turned and vehemently denied the accusation. "I'm not! Jason called me that too, but I'm not, I really disliked that one you did on hypnotists, that purple haired guy was a freak, so I can't be a fan boy if I don't like every single film you've done!"

Although he had to admit the kid's impassioned plea did strike him as honest, it wasn't the point that stuck in his craw, "Wait a second, is the friend of yours who works at TI Jason Malone?" he held up a hand to halt the answer before the kid even spoke, his look of incredulity saying loud and clear what it would be.

He jabbed speed dial with mounting fury, the button distended slightly from the onslaught. Tapping his foot impatiently he leaned against the rough braided rope railing at Treasure Island's entrance.

"Sebastian? I don't have all the data you asked for yet, is there a problem?" Thomas asked concerned from the other line.

"Put that fucking roach of yours on now!" he fumed, vein pulsing above his left eye as the voices floated over the line.

"Just a moment please…here, it's Sebastian, what'd you do to make him mad this time? That prick? Probably just breathed wrong…Yo, princess, what's got your panties in a twist tonight?"

"You are dead, Malone, dead, do you hear me you reject of the human race?! I swear, the next time I see you I'm going to shoot you and your little monkey fan-boy!"

"….so you've met Greg, huh?"

"'I've met'…dead Malone, D.E.A.D. DEAD!!" he slammed the phone shut and turned on his heel, stalking off back towards the strip, Gregory hot on his heels.

"So, you know Jase, small world. Do you know his super hot bf Thomas too? Guy's a lawyer, can you believe that?! Hey, we should all grab a drink after work one day, what do you think? Sebastian? Sebastian, wait up! Why are you running away like that? SEBAS~~~TIAN!!!"

Sebastian grit his teeth and walked faster, he was going to kill them all, he swore it.

~Fin.