Lights, Camera, Action!

by melissakay

Marshall's in love - but he's got one problem - how to get rid of Blaine so he can have Kurt all to himself? Simple - get the two to star in his short horror film! Contains drug references, violence and sex scenes. Part two coming soon.

1. Chapter 1

Lights, Camera… Action!

Part One

Marshall was finding the first semester at New York Academy of Dramatic Arts extremely challenging. Not only did his film teacher expect him to come up with a new short film every few weeks, but – as hard as it may have been for him to believe – he was actually missing his family. Homesickness wasn't something he expected. For the first week or so he actually revelled in being far away from his mother's unpredictable mental illness, which tended to turn the entire household upside-down. However, almost two months in, he had to admit that he was starting to miss her – along with his sister, Kate and his dad, of course. Talking to them via Skype just wasn't the same as being home among the chaos that was living with a person with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Only one thing made being away from home bearable, and that was a boy in one of his elective classes, a kid called Kurt who came all the way from Ohio to study musical theatre. It didn't take long for Marshall to develop a mad crush on Kurt – who was also gay, and a good deal more camp than even Marshall's former boyfriend, Lionel.

Before Marshall knew it he was looking forward to musical theatre class with a passion he'd never before felt for the genre. His style was more Quentin Tarantino meets Wes Craven; than Steven Sondheim! Still, he had to give Kurt credit – the guy was an amazing performer. Just an absolute jaw-dropping talent; and so cute, in his designer threads and quirky bow-ties!

Marshall sat watching the object of his affection perform Some People from Gypsy on the stage in the NYADA auditorium one day, when he had a brilliant idea. His film class had been set a new assignment – to produce an unsettling horror short, and he'd started writing the script the moment he got back to his dorm room. His screenplay was about a serial killer of course – Marshall was well aware that often the scariest movies are the ones about what ordinary people can do to each other. Forget vampires or sharks or ghosts. No, he, Marshall Gregson, was going to create the Ted Bundy for the 21st century! Anyhow, the bare bones of his plot required the casting of a sympathetic, pretty-boy victim, someone who the audience doesn't want to see strung up and gutted, simply because he's too hot to die! As Marshall watched Kurt sing that day, he knew he had his victim. Now came the hard part – how to talk him into dying horribly, in a slasher flick?

'Hi,' said Marshall nervously, as he approached Kurt by the coffee machine in the cafeteria. 'Your name's Kurt, right? You're in my music theatre class.'

Kurt turned and smiled, and Marshall promptly forgot to breathe.

'Yeah – and you're Marshall. I saw your short film about the zombie apocalypse last month. Amazing special effects! Especially when that guy chopped the zombie's head off with a shovel. That was my favourite part.'

'Uh… th-thanks,' stuttered Marshall. Get a grip, he told himself. He's gonna think you're a special needs kid if you can't retrieve your tongue from the floor! 'Um… you like acting, right?'

'Of course,' said Kurt. 'Hey… do you want to come and sit at my table? I'll introduce you to the gang.'

'Well I really…' Marshall started to say, but Kurt had already pressed the lid onto his cappuccino and had taken Marshall by the elbow, leading him toward a table by the window which was inhabited almost exclusively by their fellow musical theatre classmates.

'You guys all know Marshall? He's an aspiring film-maker, and he's really good,' Kurt said, by way of introduction. The two guys and two girls nodded and smiled at him before resuming their conversation. Marshall was glad – he'd wanted nothing to distract him from his mission. Besides, sitting across a small table from Kurt was going to be nerve-wracking enough without an audience. Simply put, the guy was gorgeous. Marshall had to remind himself not to stare as Kurt opened his coffee, poured in a couple of packets of sugar, stirred then sucked the froth from the spoon, pulling it back through his full, pink lips in a way that made Marshall's groin ache. It was like watching gay porn in slow motion.

'You know… I've seen you a couple of times in musical theatre and I had to wonder… what's your angle?' Kurt asked. 'You're not a singer; I've seen you dance… and going by the kind of movies you make, I don't think you're looking to become the next Andrew Lloyd Webber. Why did you pick musical theatre?'

Marshall shrugged. 'I don't know… I had to choose another elective, I guess. I'm majoring in film-making but I thought it would be good to get experience in another genre. Who knows, maybe one day I'll direct Dawn of the Dead meets Moulin Rouge.'

Kurt chuckled. 'Well, that would be… different. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you shouldn't be there, I was just curious.' He sipped his coffee, watching Marshall over the rim of his cup.

Marshall wilted under Kurt's intense scrutiny. Those big blue eyes could make you feel about three inches tall. And also rather sick and melty inside, at the same time!

'So what are you working on now?' Kurt was asking suddenly.

Ah, Marshall thought. Here's my window!

'I'm actually doing another horror film – a short – it's supposed to be about ten or fifteen minutes long, and I've already started writing the screenplay. It's about a serial killer who brutally murders gay couples making out at Lover's Lane.' Marshall said, aware that he was rambling, but unable to stop himself. 'Not that it's a statement against gays or anything – I'm gay – I just thought it would make an interesting twist…'

'And… you want me to be in your film?' Kurt finished for him, tapping his chin with the back of the spoon, pensively.

'Uh… err… well, yeah.' stammered Marshall.

Kurt tilted his head to the side, looking at Marshall as if he were a new, confounding species. 'Wait… Are you nervous, talking to me? I don't bite, you know. Unless you want me to.'

Marshall felt his face grow hot at the thought. He's flirting with me? Maybe that's just what he does. Maybe I shouldn't think too much on it. He's probably got a boyfriend. Guys like him always do. So settle, Gretel, and for God's sake, be professional!

'I'm kidding,' Kurt said, with a grin. 'I do that, sometimes. I should warn you, I have a twisted sense of humour.'

'Oh that's okay,' said Marshall, not sure whether to feel glad or disappointed!

'Well anyway,' said Kurt, 'I'd be honoured to be in your movie. It's not exactly my genre, but it's all acting experience, right?'

Marshall beamed, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out with a sense of relief. The hard part was over.

Or so he thought.

'Lights, camera, action.'

Brett, a big guy with a lantern jaw and squinty eyes, approached Kurt's character, brandishing a large hunting knife. Kurt – or rather, Troy – winced and tried to struggle free of his bonds. But the ropes securing his wrists to the branch above his head were too tight, and he almost swung 90 degrees with the force required to loosen the knot. 'Please,' Kurt/Troy sobbed. 'What did I ever do to you?'

'You fags are a scourge on society,' spat Brett, whose character was a figure of nameless evil. 'You deserve to be ripped apart for the vile acts you commit together! You're an affront to God! Haven't you ever read Genesis? It was Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve!'

Kurt/Troy was crying now, and Marshall had to hold in a whoop of excitement at his inspired casting. The guy was gold. He could cry on cue, for one thing. But he'd also read the script. He knew what was coming and he'd still signed on.

Brett stepped forward and pressed the tip of the knife into the hollow between Kurt/Troy's collarbones. 'I could gut you like a fish,' was his line. 'Right in front of your boyfriend, here.'

Ah… and there was the problem, right there. Kurt's boyfriend, Blaine, sat on the ground, bound at the wrists and ankles, helpless to come to his lover's rescue – or rather, his character, Danny's lover's rescue. When he'd read the script and realised his character was part of a couple, Kurt had suggested involving his real-life love for the part. Marshall had nodded as nonchalantly as possible, trying hard not to show how he was dying inside. But when he'd met Blaine, he'd automatically seen what Kurt saw – the potential for a heroic twist in the plot. And still more eye-candy!

'Please,' Kurt/Troy whimpered. 'I don't want to die.'

Brett grabbed a fistful of Kurt's t-shirt and dug the tip of the knife in, tearing the fabric from neck to hem. Marshall, behind the camera, couldn't resist zooming in on Kurt's pale, half-naked torso. He'd run the lens up and down the length of his victim's smooth, lean body twice by the time he realised what he was doing!

'Cut!' he called. 'That was great, guys! Fantastic! Take a break.'

It might have been fantastic, he thought, but it's gonna require some editing!

Glad of his position behind the tripod, Marshall tried to think of the least sexy thing he could imagine. The front of his jeans was uncomfortably tight. And Blaine was looking up at him with something like suspicion in those hazel eyes of his. Marshall had tried to hide his infatuation from Kurt's boyfriend but the guy was super-possessive. Well, I would be too, he thought, if I had me some of that! I wouldn't want to share Kurt with anyone!

'I'm gonna go take a piss, guys,' Marshall announced, and stole away as quickly as he could. Finding a large tree with a thick trunk to hide behind, he screwed his eyes shut and willed his erection away. It was too risky to try and rub one out. He could get caught in the act, and then how would he explain himself?

When he finally had himself under control, Marshall joined the others in the clearing. Kurt was still tied to the tree, Blaine was still sitting, tied up, on the forest floor, but Brett was nowhere to be seen.

'Where's Brett?'

'He said he was going to go and roll a blunt,' Blaine said, grinning. 'That's gonna make the rest of the movie interesting.'

Marshall groaned. 'As long as he doesn't forget his lines.'

'The way Brett smokes,' Kurt interjected, 'We'll be lucky if he comes back tonight, at all.'

'Great. That's just great,' Marshall frowned. 'How are we supposed to finish this without him?'

'Don't worry,' Blaine told him. 'He's a bit of a burnout but he's not a bad guy, really. He won't let you down.'

'That's a relief,' said Marshall, regretting his earlier uncharitable attitude toward Blaine. The guy was pretty hot. And despite his hawk-like vigilance where Kurt was concerned, he was incredibly easy-going, even offering Marshall his thoughts on plot direction and dialogue. Maybe I'm not giving the guy a chance, Marshall thought, and resolved to be nicer.

'Marshall? This rope really is kind of tight. Could you loosen it for me? I'm gonna have me a bitch of a rope-burn tomorrow.' Kurt rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen up. 'And I don't mean to complain, but I've had my arms above my head for almost an hour, now.'

'Okay… I'll untie you – but just for a while,' Marshall said, sighing. 'We've got to get more of this scene done before the sun goes down.'

'I know, and I hate to mess with the continuity,' Kurt said, as Marshall stood as close as he dared and concentrated on picking at the knot above their heads. 'I'm just really, really uncomfortable.'

You're uncomfortable? Marshall thought, his face perilously close to Kurt's armpit. He could smell deodorant masking a light perspiration despite the cool evening breeze. He could see goose-bumps dimpling Kurt's pale flesh. The blue t-shirt hung from his shoulders like a limp, useless rag. Marshall resisted – but just barely - a compulsion to wind his arms around Kurt's lean body and hug those goose-bumps away. He had a feeling Blaine wouldn't appreciate his idea of chivalry!

'Are you okay, Marshall?' Kurt asked. Finally able to free himself of the rope and drop his arms, he rubbed his wrists, where raised red welts had appeared. 'If you don't mind me saying, you look a bit… freaked out.'

'I'm fine,' said Marshall, not able to meet Kurt's eyes. 'Really.'

He watched Kurt go over, sit beside Blaine and give his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek. Turning his head away, he swallowed a bitter pill of jealousy and tried to focus on the job at hand. But it was hard to concentrate with those two making googly eyes at each other. Especially when he heard Blaine murmuring something along the lines of, "God you looked sexy tied up over there," at which Kurt giggled, flirtatiously. Marshall gritted his teeth and scratched at a mosquito bite on his neck. It was starting to get dark. If they didn't get more work done, they'd have to come back again tomorrow night. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, the opportunity to spend more time around a half-naked Kurt was too good to pass up. On the other, he didn't think he could take another moment of watching those two dancing around each other like a pair of beautiful, horny, gay peacocks. Life just wasn't fair.

'Marshall?'

He looked up. 'What?'

'Can I see what we've done so far? This camera has playback with full sound, right?' Kurt was on his feet and moving toward the tri-pod before Marshall could stop him. 'Don't worry – I'll put it back to where we left off.'

'He's kind of a perfectionist,' Blaine explained. 'You'll get used to it.'

Marshall bit his lip hard, as Kurt stood motionless, watching the footage they'd shot so far. There was little or no chance of his pervy camera work going un-noticed. He just hoped Kurt would keep the knowledge of Marshall's crush on him to himself. He didn't exactly look forward to facing the wrath of Blaine. Would he talk Kurt into walking out on the project, altogether?

'I… guess I have to learn to deal with demanding actors, sometime,' Marshall found himself saying. 'Kurt's actually pretty good. Its guys like Brett who disappear in the middle of shooting that piss me off.'

'Yeah – I wonder where he got to,' said Blaine, frowning, puzzled. 'I'd go search for him for you, but I'm kind of tied up, here.' He chuckled. 'Literally.'

'That's okay,' said Marshall. 'Thanks, anyway.'

Blaine shrugged. 'I wouldn't worry too much. He'll turn up eventually. More than likely, when his pot runs out.'

'Fucking stoners,' muttered Marshall.

Blaine laughed; then stopped as he caught the look on Kurt's face. 'Kurt, what's wrong?'

'Blaine, I need to talk to you.'

Oh God, here it comes, thought Marshall, miserably. I'm fucked. Why oh why couldn't I have kept my hormones in check? This movie is doomed. First Brett disappears and now this!

'Marshall… can we have a moment? Please?' Kurt asked, in his sweet, soft voice.

At least he doesn't look angry, thought Marshall. A little shell-shocked maybe, but then if I knew my director had been zooming in on me shirtless, I'd be a little freaked out, too!

'Sure… I'll… I'll go look for Brett.'

Marshall dragged his butt off the ground and left the two lovebirds to their conversation, his gut in anxious knots. In no time, he found Brett's Kombie van on the side of the dirt road, seemingly abandoned, the passenger side window rolled halfway down. A glance in each tinted glass panel proved what Marshall already suspected. Brett wasn't there. Where the hell had he gotten to? Marshall hoped his villain wasn't so stoned he'd wandered off and got lost. The national park they were filming in had walking trails clearly marked, but Brett being Brett, he probably ignored those altogether. The guy did kind of have a problem with any form of authority, or rules. Even following simple guidelines seemed to be a stretch for him.

'Idiot,' Marshall hissed to himself, kicking the Kombie's wheel rim in frustration. Only, if he was to be truly honest, he wasn't sure if he meant to insult Brett or himself!

Walking back to the clearing, Marshall realised he could hear voices. Ducking behind a tree, he listened as hard as he could. Blaine and Kurt were less than two metres away, and so engrossed in each other, they hadn't noticed his return. So they weren't being particularly careful about being overheard.

Kurt seemed agitated. 'I thought you couldn't stand the idea of me with another guy?'

'I can't…' said Blaine, 'I adore you. You know that. But this would be different from cheating. It's consensual. And you did promise you were going to make one of my fantasies come true. Remember? After all, I did dress up as Aladdin and rescue you from the lecherous clutches of Jafar. I don't know about you, but I felt kind of silly pretending to ride on a magic carpet. By my reckoning, you owe me one.'

'Hey, I made that promise before I knew how depraved you are,' Kurt joked; then sighed. 'I know… I owe you. Big time. And Marshall is really cute. I'm just not sure I can do this.'

Do what? Marshall thought, his heart in his mouth. Are they really talking about what I think they're talking about? No… no way. They know I'm here, and they're staging the whole thing, hoping I'll get all worked up, so they can turn around and reject me. Well, if they want to play cruel mind games, I'll show them I can prank with the best of them!

It had gone quiet, and Marshall wasn't sure he liked that, so he peered around the tree, only to find the boys kissing passionately. Despite his jealousy, which was by now burning a hole in his lower intestine, Marshall couldn't help but watch, fascinated, but appalled with himself at the same time. There was something about watching two guys making out that his ex-boyfriend, Lionel, used to find incredibly erotic, and Marshall was starting to see what all the fuss was about. But this was different to watching Lionel's extensive collection of gay porn. This was happening right in front of him.

'Kurt,' said Blaine, breaking away from their kiss, 'I don't mean to interrupt your heavy petting session, but you still haven't said whether you'll do it or not.'

Kurt removed his hand from between Blaine's thighs, reluctantly. 'All right. I'll do it. If it's all right by Marshall.'

Marshall wanted to jump out from behind the tree and declare himself ready, willing and more than able to go along with whatever their plan was, but his fear that this was all a trap was too fresh in his mind. He'd been burned before – once, even by his own mother. Or well… one of her alters, the supremely slutty T, who found his high school crush too hard to resist. Marshall had discovered them making out in the back shed. So he burned it down as a form of protest. Not with them in it, obviously, but at the time he'd been mad, and hurt enough that almost anything was possible.

He waited until the boys were kissing again before he decided to break up their little party.

'Hey, guys,' he said, pretending to stroll back to base like he'd been out for a walk to collect firewood. 'Don't mind me. I'm just gonna fiddle with the camera for a bit.'

And delete that last bit of footage that shows me checking out Kurt's form, Marshall decided. The sooner that little piece of cinematic smut was gone, the better!

'Hey Marshall,' said Blaine, 'Forget that, for a minute. Come and sit with us.'

Marshall sucked in a deep breath. Here it comes - the proverbial kick in the balls. Brace yourself. Or you could just say no.

Yeah, thought Marshall, sarcastically. Like that's gonna happen!

He approached Kurt and Blaine with a certain amount of apprehension. 'What… what's going on, guys?'

'Sit down,' Blaine urged. 'We just thought – since Brett was missing, and you obviously didn't find him; that maybe we could take up where we left off, tomorrow night. With the filming, I mean. It is kind of getting dark.'

.'So… you want to pack up and go home?'

Blaine nodded. 'But not just yet. Maybe we could… sit and talk for a while. Get to know each other better.'

Okay… that sounds safe, thought Marshall. I can do that.

'And maybe we could untie Blaine,' Kurt suggested, with a wink. 'As much as I'd like to keep him like this, so I can have my way with him, I have the welts to prove it's not comfortable.'

'And you say I'm depraved,' Blaine joked.

'Yeah well… What can I say? Your kinks are rubbing off on me. But I think silk scarves might be the better option.'

Marshall wished they'd stop talking about sex. It was giving him a serious case of the hots! Just the idea of Kurt tying him up and taking advantage of him made Marshall's penis stiffen reflexively. But it was Blaine Kurt wanted to ravish. He couldn't say he blamed his crush – Blaine was one hot piece, all right. He just envied the hell out of him!

'Come on… Sit down,' urged Blaine.

Marshall realised belatedly that he was still standing, like a deer in headlights, in the middle of the clearing. He let out a shaky breath and joined them, crouching beside Blaine, and helped Kurt untie his boyfriend.

When that was done, Blaine turned to Marshall.

'Look… How do I say this? We know.'

Oh fuck. Kill me now, thought Marshall. 'Know what?' he said, feigning innocence.

'The way you feel about Kurt.'

'It's okay,' Kurt told him, with a smile he probably thought was reassuring. But nothing could reassure Marshall at that moment. He just wanted to sink into the earth, like one of those giant worms on Tremors, and never resurface. He'd never been so humiliated in his relatively short life.

'So… what does this mean? You guys aren't gonna pull out of the movie, are you? I mean, I know I took advantage, and I'm gonna wipe that bit of footage, I swear. I knew it was wrong when I was doing it! I wouldn't blame you if you hated me…'

Marshall was so busy apologising he didn't register what was happening until Kurt's lips were on his, stopping his spiel in its tracks but sending his heart into a double, then triple staccato rhythm. Kurt, on all fours, leaning across his boyfriend, touched Marshall's cheek with his fingertips as he sucked his bottom lip, pulling on it gently, then letting go. Marshall closed his eyes and started kissing back, unable to believe this was happening. Until now, Lionel had been the sexiest boy he'd ever met, but both Kurt and Blaine blew his freaking mind. He was so turned on right then and there, he would have agreed to an orgy with a band of dwarves and a bearded lady, just to relieve the tension in his Calvin Klein's!

While Marshall and Kurt kissed mere inches away, Blaine got busy unzipping Marshall's pants. Feeling a cool, unfamiliar hand curl around his penis, Marshall had to stop and remember to breathe. Licking his lips, he struggled to keep his composure. Blaine's hand squeezed him gently, and Marshall wanted to bury his head against the boy's chest in surrender. But Kurt was still covering his face and neck with kisses, and Kurt was the one he ached for the most. The one he'd had countless sexy dreams about since he'd first walked into his musical theatre class and witnessed the guy's amazing dexterity with twin sai swords. Reaching out, Marshall's fingers delved into Kurt's perfectly coiffed hair, messing it up as Kurt's tongue flickered against his. A jolt of pleasure ran down his spine as he imagined that tongue in other places on his body. Blaine's hand was great – applying just the right amount of pressure, stroking his shaft one minute, cupping his balls the next. But it wasn't enough. Marshall's hand left Kurt's hair and travelled down to the neck of that now redundant t-shirt. He broke from their kiss and whispered, 'Take this off.'

Kurt obliged, and Marshall had to restrain himself from climbing over Blaine to get to the object of his lust. His mouth felt like the Sahara, and his erection strained like the Hulk against Blaine's firm grip. Eyes glazed, he took in the sight of a shirtless Kurt, committing it to memory. After all, he was going to have to erase or tape over the end of that scene in the movie. He'd promised as much. But that didn't mean he couldn't go over the image in his head, rewinding and pausing to his heart's content!

Blaine's hand left Marshall's pants and began to unbutton his shirt. A brief glance at Blaine told Marshall he wasn't the only one struggling to keep it together. Weird, he thought. He's actually turned on by watching his boyfriend with another guy? Whatever floats your boat, I guess! Or maybe he's just as into me as I am into Kurt? Seems unlikely, but oh well… You won't find me complaining!

The evening was beginning to get cold, but neither one of the three boys noticed. Now that Marshall was in a similar state of undress as Kurt, they both helped Blaine off with his character's costume – a black t-shirt and faded pair of jeans. Rather subdued for Blaine's taste, but then he wasn't playing himself. Clothes strewn aside, Marshall and Blaine began to kiss and fondle each other while Kurt watched.

Marshall could barely contain himself any longer. The feel of Blaine's strong, lean body against his, the way his soft, sparse chest hair tickled Marshall's skin was almost too much. He felt like he was going into sensory overload – especially when Blaine stopped kissing him and stared into his eyes, as if asking a silent question. Do you want to?

Yes, Marshall wanted to say. Oh, fuck yes! But all he could manage to do was nod his consent.

Almost before Marshall knew what was happening, he was the meat in a Klaine sandwich. Kurt ran a soft hand over Marshall's ribcage and hip from behind, pressing his lips against his shoulder-blade, leaning on his elbow to suck the tender skin on Marshall's neck. One hand wrapped itself around his penis and Marshall thought he was going to explode. Meantime, Blaine was working his way down Marshall's body, kissing every square inch available to him, with Marshall lying on his side. Kurt nibbled his earlobe and whispered, 'I'll be back,' turning away and leaving Marshall's entire back exposed to the elements. But he wasn't gone long. When he returned, he curled up behind Marshall again, and this time, he was completely naked. Kurt took one of Marshall's hands and guided it backward, over his hip, over the curve of Kurt's ass, and then between his legs.

Marshall groaned, feeling Kurt's penis against the palm of his hand. He loved the way it hardened perceptively when he squeezed, and marvelled at the sheer size of it. So it was true – skinny guys with tight little asses had it all going on up front! Lionel had been just average, size-wise, but Kurt was… in a word, magnificent.

Marshall wanted so badly to turn and gaze upon his crush, but his penis was in Blaine's mouth, and it felt so incredible he didn't want to do anything to ruin the moment.

He heard the sound of a condom wrapper tearing, and before he could process what was going on, Kurt was inside him.

Marshall exploded into Blaine's mouth almost immediately. His orgasm – building like a slow storm only seconds ago, had hit him with the force of the tornado in the Wizard of Oz. Gasping, he bent almost double, the pleasure gaining momentum as Blaine licked him clean; then becoming all-consuming when Kurt started moving inside him, gripping Marshall's hip as he slid out a little ways, then back in. Blaine kissed his way back up Marshall's body and let the boy bury his dark head against his chest as the tornado ripped through him, leaving him weak and trembling; and then it was over. He felt Kurt throb momentarily, and then slip out.

Rolling onto his back, Marshall gazed over at Kurt, whose cheeks were flushed and eyes were closed. His pale, smooth chest rose and fell as if he'd just run a race. Marshall leaned across and kissed Kurt just below the collarbone. He couldn't put into words how amazing he felt. How weak and excited – still – and hopelessly in love.

There was only one thing in his way. And no matter how good Blaine had made him feel only seconds ago, no matter how his smile, with those dimples, turned his knees to jelly, Marshall knew he had to be ruthless to get what he wanted. He had to come up with a plan – a deviously clever plan that would not implicate him, and would ultimately break those two up. And when they did finally implode, Marshall planned to be right there, offering Kurt a shoulder to cry on. And a bed to lie in, of course!

'What the fuck?'

All three boys jumped up at the sound of Brett's voice. Kurt hastily pulled his jeans back on, forgetting his underwear in his hurry, and Blaine initially picked up the wrong t-shirt, before he realised it was the blue rag Kurt had been wearing. Marshall was the only one who remained where he was – mostly because his legs were still too weak to support him.

Brett, the crim-in-training whom Marshall had had to virtually bribe to appear in his film, sauntered over, reeking of marijuana.

'What's this, a fucking orgy?' he laughed. 'Jesus Christ, I go away for five minutes and all hell breaks loose.'

'You were gone longer than five minutes,' said Kurt, accusingly. 'We were about to go home without you.'

'And yet, you hung around and decided to have a party without me,' Brett joked. 'And thank fuck for that, 'cause I ain't no homo. So… are we doin' this movie thing, or what?'

'Tomorrow night,' said Marshall, finally finding the physical strength to retrieve and pull on his clothes. 'We'll finish this up tomorrow night. See you all here at four-thirty, sharp.' He stood up and collected his camera gear, slinging the leather strap of the bag over his shoulder and folding up the tripod. Kurt and Blaine seemed to be barely talking, not even to each other. There was an uncomfortable silence in the air, tension you could cut with a butter knife. Marshall turned away and followed Brett out of the clearing, tapping him on the shoulder when he was sure he was out of earshot of the others.

'Hey, wait up.'

Brett turned around. 'You're not gonna try any of your fag shit on me, are you? 'Cause I'll beat you to a pulp if you even look at me wrong.'

Marshall sighed. 'No, you moron! For starters, you're not my type.'

'Clearly,' Brett scoffed. 'What do you want, then?'

'I need you to help me with something.' Marshall replied. 'I'll make it worth your while.'

Brett leaned forward, suddenly all ears. 'What do you want me to do?'

To be continued…