Author's note: Hello! I'm new to fanfiction and some of the fic on here as well as other fic sites have inspired me to write about Queer as Folk. I got into the show recently and have fallen in love with it. I kinda wanted to write about what (I wished/imagined) of gone on behind the scenes, specifically with Randy and Gale (they make a hot pair on screen why not off?). This story is FICTION and I do not own QAF. I also give credit to Billy Joel whose song lyrics I used in the beginning. Thanks.

-A

Gale

Son can you play me a memory

I'm not really sure how it goes

But it's sad and it's sweet

And I knew it complete

When I wore a younger man's clothes

Though Billy Joel on the radio was fucking great, that didn't ease the fact that I had somewhere to be—and that somewhere was not in a tiny dark studio with big hairy men.

Lighting my eleventh cigarette, figuring I would be diagnosed with lung cancer by the time they let me out of this audition, I repeated my lines: "I don't believe in love. I believe in fucking. It's honest, it's efficient. You get in and out with the maximum of pleasure, and minimum of bullshit. Love is something that straight people tell themselves they're in, so they can get laid." I looked up lazily. Will their grins ever wipe off?

"I'm sorry," I said suddenly, sighing. "I really need to be somewhere. Is the producer close?"

Hairy-man-one nodded vigorously, "Oh yes! Dan will be here in a second."

"We love you," Hairy-man-two said. "You're genius! You hit those lines spot-on. I know Dan'll love ya! We know he will. If all goes as planned, you'll need to meet our Justin—Brian's love interest. If that goes as planned—voila! Hail to the new Queer King!"

"This show," Hairy-man-one added earnestly, "Is a landmark for its generation. Think of the buzz—think of the kids, the married man in the closet who will watch this show and think 'Wow! If Brian Kinney can do it—why can't I?' You'll be a role model for so many. It's monumental."

I was interested, no doubt. I had just gotten into acting when my agent set me up here. "Start your career with a bang!" or some shit like that he said. Well, if being a Queer King and role model is the worst I could do, I'd say I was doing pretty well.

The producer walked in. "Where's my Brian Kinney?"

Randy

Gale Harold. Sounded gay to me, I thought. Fingering my script, I was less than nervous; I had met and rehearsed with several Brian's before Gale Harold and I was repeatedly unimpressed. The producers were looking at the wrong thing—they've just been seeing the face, not really the look. With a face, you get a good high fashion magazine spread. With the look, you get a hit character on a TV show.

My phone buzzed: "It's Dan! We're outside the studio I've got Gale with me. We'll meet you in five."

I've never done TV acting before, but my agent thought it'd be good to experience different types of acting in the industry apart from theater. Even if the show is canceled after one episode, it'd still be something for the resume, and actors need to take whatever they can get. Screw it if I just got the part because I'm blonde and cute…who said Hollywood was fair? Or Toronto for that matter.

"Hey sorry we're so late, Randy!" Dan's voice was there, but I froze immediately…Gale Harold.

He was tall, but not skinny—lean. His features were boyish: soft, pointed, and handsome. His hair was rumpled like a teenager, his eyes were a devastatingly beautiful green. His mouth was pink, his lips pressed. He had a clean black shirt on, jeans, and sneakers.

He was looking right at me.

"This is Gale!" Dan seemed to notice the tension and smiled knowingly. "He's your devilishly handsome new Brian."

"Hi," Gale said, sticking out a friendly hand.

I took it; it was warm and his hands were strong. I gripped his hand for a fraction of a second too long because he pulled away first. Shit, I thought. I felt like I was a horny high school boy all over again.

I decided I needed to shake it off, both for my professional and personal sake. "I'm Randy Harrison. I'll be playing the part of your Obsessive Stubborn Boy-Toy."

Gale laughed. "Well, boy-toy, the pleasure is mine."

We smiled.

Dan said, "I'm gonna leave. I have to check up on Ron, call him, letting know what's up with production. You guys get acquainted, read some lines, talk over some of the scenes, get comfortable. If you're both signed on for the parts, comfortable is really a feeling that needs to be mutual for some of those scenes." He shrugged. "But I'm sure you guys both got it in you. Call me if you need anything." He left.

Gale chuckled. "Wow," He looked directly at me. "Some show this sounds like. Our first sex scene is pretty involved…I mean I actually put lube up your ass."

I laughed and I hoped it wasn't too quickly. "Yeah…yeah. No, I know. I've done some sexual stuff before, though. In theater. It doesn't bother me. You? What's your background."

Gale looked around the room, locating a sofa on the side under a window. He went to sit and looked at me to follow. We sat with our legs barely touching. He lit a cigarette with long fingers, opening the window above us.

He said thoughtfully, "I mean, I actually don't care about the sexual stuff either. I'm pretty open-minded to that—doesn't bother me. But the whole 'comfort' thing does depends on who it's with. Guess it's good I like you."

I curled my toes in delight. I laughed, impressed by how easy it sounded and replied, "Yeah. I like you too…" I hesitated then choked out, "But wow—to do this—are you even gay?"

He laughed into the back of his hand, flicking ashes across our thighs. He said, "I'm not dick's number one fan when it comes to what's in my ass…taking as I don't want anything in my ass…meaning yes, I'm straight. But again, I don't have a problem kissing men or simulating sex scenes. I'm guessing your gay then?"

I shrugged. He nodded.

Somewhere outside the window, a car was blasting Latino pop from the streets. The rhythm pounded through our ears, then faded.

"Kiss me then," I said suddenly. My eyes were daring but my mouth was dry.

Gale's head turned to me in surprise. I wasn't thinking. I told myself not to think. He smashed his cigarette butt gently on the window behind him and then brushed his head over mine. Our foreheads pressed; he breathed in slowly, and I felt his hand rest on my shoulder. He opened his mouth slightly, then closed it, deciding to press both lips firmly to mine. They were warm and musky, and a silent thrill ran through my stomach. He pulled away suddenly. He scratched his temple.

He smiled almost nervously. "How was my attempt? Gay?"

I swallowed and played right along. "Very gay and very good, spot-on for a hetero. You've got the part, though I don't even think it's my decision!"

He laughed and looked away. His fingers looked lonely without the cigarette. I thought his fingers would look good in mine, which made me feel a twinge of regret. Nothing in his ass, I thought to myself as we both stood to leave after a few more easy conversations. He doesn't want anything in his ass. He doesn't want you.

I wasn't going to be that guy—I wasn't my character, I wasn't Justin. I'd work with Gale Harold—we'd be best friends. That's it.