Disclaimer: I do not own anything ATWT does.

Notes: Written last year for the nuke_anon LJ's Challenge #7, using the prompt "guest star".

"You're wrinkling the pages!"

Faith's aggrieved tone jolted her brother out of his momentary trance, alerting Luke that he was crushing her copy of US Weekly within his bruising grip.

"Sorry," he mumbled distractedly, his gaze still trained on the picture she'd excitedly shown him.

It was Noah, already a Tinseltown hit just over a year into his Hollywood adventure. Noah's project had exceeded all expectations. It had been picked up by a prominent art films distributor, and was making the rounds on the festival circuit, picking up awards left and right.

The offers poured in. Noah was placed in the incredible position of getting to choose his first studio project. He'd excitedly phoned Luke to discuss his various options, and together they'd laughingly eliminated everything that screamed CRAP.

Their joint personal favorite in the bin of rotten tomatoes was "Canine-in-Chief", a godawful comedy about a talking dog running for President. Noah had read many of the lowlights to Luke over the phone, until the other man could barely breathe through the tears of appalled laughter. Most likely, the peddlers of such dreck hadn't even seen Noah's work.

They just wanted the buzz surrounding the hot young director attached to their film. Hiring Noah, in their minds, would bring a touch of prestige to their movie, at a bargain basement price. Noah politely declined, his thanks-but-no-thanks a watered down version of Luke's suggested, "Aw HELL no!"

Noah eventually settled on a smaller budget but higher quality screenplay with Luke's enthusiastic support. It told the true story of a 9/11 firefighter struggling with the emotional and physical fallout from his efforts on that day. Knowing that many who helped in the aftermath of the attacks had developed serious health issues, Noah and Luke agreed – this was a story worth telling.

Now, Luke placed Faith's magazine on the table in front of him, attempting to spare it further abuse as he continued to study the photo.

"He looks amazing, doesn't he?"

Luke had to agree with his sister. Noah lit up the red-carpet brightly enough to be taken for a matinee idol himself. Yes, he looked amazing.

Amazingly handsome. Amazingly confident. Amazingly happy.

His gut clenching, Luke read the photo's caption for the twentieth time.

Star Zachary Quinto bring his "Fractured Hero" director (and rumored paramour) Noah Mayer to the "Margin Call" premiere.

Fucking US Magazine. Who the fuck says paramour, anyway? As if the hacks behind the shoddy rag thought dressing up the publication with pompous words would somehow make it classy.

Whatever. The gossip-mongers didn't know what the hell they were talking about. Luke talked with Noah almost weekly.

Noah would've told him if he had a boyfriend. Especially that boyfriend. (Noah had discovered Luke harbored a Skylar kink back in the days of his "Heroes" fandom).

No, Noah wouldn't have failed to tell him that. Over the past months, they'd healed old hurts enough to fall comfortably into their close best-friendship. It was true; they never discussed the pink elephant between them – Noah's departing vow to wait for Luke – but they shared just about everything else.

So, everything but the most important thing.

No matter. As much as Noah had gleefully razzed Luke for his Quinto crush, there was no way the guy could be Noah's… whatever. Noah would've told him. Wouldn't he?

Faith Snyder is a little bitch.

Luke couldn't help the uncharitable, admittedly untrue sentiment. Still, what was his traitorous sister thinking? It was two weeks since she'd excitedly thrust the photo of Noah and that actor in his face.

Now she was back, more delirious than before. Luke was seriously considering swearing off breakfast altogether if it meant avoiding having US Weekly shoved before him while he ate. Unfortunately, she had a subscription.

"They have a portmanteau!"

"A what?" Eyes rolling, Luke picked up the magazine and scanned the headline. The two-page spread touted "Cutest Celebrity Couples", giving them a ranking of one to five hearts.

According to the geniuses at US, most couples rated three or four hearts. George Clooney and Stacy Kiebler. Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez.

Mark Zuckerberg and himself were snippily awarded a half-heart. Only one pairing was deemed worthy of the five-heart standard of romantic perfection. Luke's stomach turned – hard – as he read the caption.

Question: What could BE more adorable than these two drop-dead gorgeous, insanely talented Hollywood A-listers canoodling as they nosh on breakfast at the trendy Café 112?

Answer: NOTHING. Mayto FTW!

Mayto? Mayto? What. The. Fuck.

As portmanteaus went, it wasn't even catchy. If Luke and Noah had thought one up when they were together, it would've been much cooler. Not something that sounded like a mid-level brand of household appliances.

Get your Mayto washer/dryer, on sale at HH Gregg!

No. He and Noah would've combined into something much better. Snyder plus Mayer… Snayer? So, that needed work. It was still an improvement. It almost sounded like "slayer", and not at all like something you'd wash your underwear in.

Mayto. As if. Noah still hadn't said anything about having a boyfriend.

And the caption wasn't even right. Noah wasn't canoodling. What the hell was canoodling, anyway?

In the paparazzi snapshot, the two dark-haired men were seated side-by-side at a sidewalk café, each with their feet propped comfortably on the extra chairs across the table. Something funny must have been said, because both men were openly laughing.

Noah, with his eyes closed, head thrown back, and vampire fangs showing in all their glory. And that Quinto character, apparently so overcome with hysteria, he had to lean his head on Noah's shoulder to physically support it. Whatever. Any canoodling that occurred was strictly perpetrated by Quinto, not Noah.

The only thing hindering Luke's reassurances to himself… wasn't so insignificant. When the studio had nabbed Quinto for the role in Noah's new film, Noah had called Luke immediately with the news. He teased Luke mercilessly about hiring Luke's "boyfriend".

When they'd begun production a month ago, Noah phoned to share his excitement at how well it was going. Because of the small scale of the project, he expected filming to wrap within a month to six weeks. However.

After Noah attended the Margin Call premiere, he hadn't called Luke. Optimistically, Luke assumed he was simply too busy in the midst of filming. So Luke phoned Noah.

And proceeded to have an awkward, stilted conversation in which the words "Quinto" and "premiere" were uttered not a single time.

When Luke had first seen the picture of the men at that premiere, showing Noah's arm companionably draped over Quinto's shoulders, Luke hadn't been concerned. And yes, Quinto's arm was wrapped around Noah's waist, his brown eyes looking contentedly at Noah, his hand resting on Noah's hip – but it was most likely innocent. No, Luke hadn't really been jealous. Much. Of them both? Probably a little.

But the phone call - during which he and Noah spoke much and said nothing – rattled him. Noah was holding back. Luke recognized it easily; he certainly had enough experience with it.

What he hated most of all was knowing Noah only ever did that when he was trying to protect Luke.

Damn.

Three weeks after the "canoodling" incident, a pajama-clad Luke sat down to his wheat toast and Chocolate Lucky Charms. Mid-marshmallow bite, a school-bound Faith appeared. The event was only notable because of the uncharacteristic silence with which it occurred.

She joined Luke at the table sans greeting, and reached for the box. Luke only fully realized how deafening the quiet was when it was broken by the whoosh and pings of cereal dropping into her bowl. He regarded his sister, waiting. When she remained silent, Luke cut to the chase.

"What?"

Faith looked up, almost as if caught, somehow. She seemed to mull her response, finally deciding on, "what, what?"

Letting loose the exasperated sigh the situation warranted, Luke answered back simply, "Faith."

Slowly, Faith reached into her backpack, and pulled out the magazine. She opened it to the relevant page before handing it to Luke. With trepidation, he took in the photo.

Zachary Quinto.

More importantly, Zachary Quinto - minus Noah! Predictably, Luke's heart gave a self-satisfied double somersault. Buh-bye, Quinto.

Needless to say, Luke was stunned to hear the sniffle from across the table. He knew Faith had enjoyed following Noah's supposed exploits on the Hollywood romance scene, but hadn't known her teenaged fangirl heart was so invested in his manufactured love life.

"I know I pretended to be excited about Noah's big romance," she began.

"Pretended?" Now Luke had lost the plot.

"I wanted you to get jealous!"

Luke smiled slightly, beginning to understand. Faith was a romantic, all right. "Well, mission accomplished. I did get a little jealous," he admitted sheepishly. Luke was surprised to see Faith's expression grow more upset at the admission.

"Then why didn't you do anything?"

Luke was perplexed by the severity of Faith's reaction, not to mention the volume in her voice. "What did you want me to do? Call Noah and tell him he can't date?"

"Yes! Well, no… not call him. GO to him!"

"Faith," Luke answered placatingly. "It isn't the right time. We're not ready for that yet."

Faith nearly jumped from her chair, her hands shooting angrily to her hips as she stared down accusingly at her big brother. "Ready? Right time? GOD. You are so full of it!"

Luke went from confused to downright mystified. His sister was furious with him; that much was apparent. She'd had a tough time of her own recently; her on-again, off-again romance with Parker was currently off.

"Faith, it's complicated. Noah is crazy busy right now shooting his movie. And I've had a lot going on with the hospital board."

"Don't you love him?"

Luke sighed heavily. "Of course I do. I'll always love Noah-"

"Don't say it like that!"

Luke's sister not only cut him off mid-sentence, but her volume had leapt from considerable to hysterical. "Say it like what?"

"Like that. It's the same thing Mom says about Dad. 'I'll always love your father.' So what? She'll always love Dad, you'll always love Noah - that's bullshit! How can either of you call that love when you don't do anything about it! This family has some seriously messed up ideas about love," Faith finished, concluding her impassioned tirade.

Luke opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn't defend himself – because she was right. He knew if you truly love someone, you don't hold back out of fear, but that's what he'd been doing. Yet Luke believed loving someone more than yourself meant you risked your own heart to give them that love.

Now that he'd been forced to peek outside of the fortress he'd erected around his heart, and really looked at himself, Luke knew. Without a doubt. Loving someone so much he'd risk anything to be with them - that's how he loved Noah.

Luke stood then, nodding his head. "You're right." The funny thing about denial was, once it was finally released, making the decision to act became a lot less complicated. Simple, even. "I'm going to listen to my bizarrely wiser little sister, and fly out to Los Angeles. Maybe that'll give you some hope for this family, after all."

"Oh my God!" Faith jumped into Luke's arms, squeezing him hard as she squealed. "Hurry up! Do you need help packing? Wait – we can send your stuff. Just get dressed while I look for flights. I only have Art this morning so I can skip class and drive you to the airport – "

"Whoa – slow down! I didn't mean today. I'll give Noah a call and see when he has time for me to visit."

"Luke!" Faith positively shrieked at her brother. "You don't have time to wait for him to have time. Oh, shoot." Faith's face fell as understanding dawned. "You didn't actually read it, did you?"

She retrieved the magazine from the table, handing it back to Luke. Questioningly, he perused the photo once more. He scanned the paparazzi snapshot of Quinto walking – alone – through an upscale outdoor shopping complex. Beside the picture was a box containing a collection of quotes from a more recent red-carpet interview with the actor. Luke searched for the information Faith had deemed pertinent.

US Weekly: As a recently "out" celebrity, you must be encouraged by the expansion of marriage equality in this country. Do you see yourself as a marrying man?

Zachary Quinto: Sure, why not? When you find the right person to share your life with, it's natural to want to make it official.

US: And what qualities does a guy need to be the "right person" for you? Brunette or blond? Serious or funny? Brown eyes or blue?

ZQ: (smiles) Wow, that's a pretty specific list. I think if I answered that, you'd attach a name to it, so I'll pass.

US: There's speculation there already IS a name attached – to you! Any chance of a surprise elopement?

ZQ: (laughs) Speculation is the mother's milk of your industry. I wouldn't dream of depriving you by ending it. (pauses, grins impishly) But if I do elope? His eyes will be blue – definitely.

Aw, hell no.

The resulting flurry of activity was utter chaos. Faith immediately hopped onto Luke's laptop to find the quickest flight to Los Angeles. Unfortunately, there was no direct option.

Consequently, Faith interrupted Luke mid-clothing change with a shout up the stairs, asking Luke his layover preference. He stopped throwing clothes around long enough to yell back, instructing her to choose whatever was fastest. After all, with no luggage, he could make even a quick plane change.

The distraction of that moment - coupled with a distressing lack of clean laundry - came at a cost.

Arriving outside the studio half a day later, he exited the taxi. Luke was aware that his appearance practically screamed I don't belong as he approached the security booth at the front gate. An older, clearly bemused black gentleman took him in appraisingly, not quite containing the smile tugging at his mouth.

"Can I help you?"

I hope so, Luke thought. He realized he must look like a hapless college drop-out, in his threadbare jeans with a hole in one knee and his dorkiest sophomore year (of high school) striped shirt stretched across his torso. Not to mention the pièce de résistance of Luke's ridiculous ensemble: two half-pairs of sneakers; the left one, white; the right one, navy blue.

Of course, technically he was a hapless college drop-out, so…

"My name is Luke Snyder," he addressed the guard in introduction. "I'm here to see Noah Mayer. The director."

As if anyone working at a film studio in this town wouldn't know who that was. Luke bit his bottom lip nervously as the security guard rifled through paperwork on a clipboard. "He's not expecting me, but if you just let him know I'm here-"

"No need," the guard answered, to Luke's initial horror. Had he come all this way to be thwarted by a stupid clipboard? "You're on the list, Mr. Snyder. I just need to see some I.D."

Luke blinked his surprise as he fumbled to retrieve his wallet from his pocket. On the list? That had to be a good sign, right? It meant Noah still expected – maybe even hoped – that Luke would visit.

"Mr. Mayer's shooting on Lot 6 today. This map should help, but ask any of the staff if you get turned around." He returned Luke's driver's license as he handed Luke the map.

"Enjoy your visit, Mr. Snyder."

"It's just Luke," he answered excitedly, as he glanced at the man's name badge. "And thank you, Clyde – I intend to!"

Luke couldn't help the well of heady anticipation building within him as he neared Lot 6. With each step, he became more certain he'd made the right decision in showing up unannounced. The feeling grew right up until the moment he rounded a corner and found Noah.

In the arms of that man.

Noah, who'd been whispering some confidence into that man's ear, still managed to possess perfect radar where Luke was concerned. To Luke's chagrin, he turned almost immediately to face him, effectively stealing any hope of a covert exit with Noah none-the-wiser. Contrary to mere moments earlier, Luke was now convinced this had been his worst idea EVER.

Noah released the other man, making his way to Luke. Three emotions were apparent on his face: surprise, disbelief, and confusion. Reaching him, Noah's simple "Luke?" perhaps fell short of Luke's loftiest expectations.

It's not like Luke had spent the plane ride dreaming up clichéd reunion scenarios, in which Noah sprinted towards him in slow-motion, sweeping Luke into a passionate embrace. And if he had entertained such a patently foolish fantasy once or twice – or thirty times – it was Faith's fault for putting it there. She had chattered non-stop during the drive to the airport, filling Luke's brain with all manner of best-case scenarios.

If Luke was disappointed now, that was his own fault. What had he expected? That despite all evidence to the contrary, Noah was secretly languishing in L.A., pining for the day when Luke would magically appear?

No; he didn't even want that. Luke genuinely wanted Noah to find success and happiness in his new life. But he could also admit, a big part of him wanted everything to fall into place for Noah precisely to show Noah that even with all his dreams coming true, there was still something missing.

Luke.

Luke's dejected inner ramblings were cut short when Noah's face suddenly lit up, and he grasped Luke tightly to him. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Luke relished the feel of being back in Noah's arms, and he returned the almost-crushing embrace with equal strength. When Noah finally moved to pull away, Luke resisted, and burrowed his face into Noah's neck. Just in case this was the last moment in which Luke could ever pretend Noah was still his, he wanted to make it last.

That thought prompted Luke to look up, staring coldly at his rival as the man approached.

"So, you're Luke," the actor deducted, giving Luke the once over, no doubt unimpressed with his Oakdale-hick couture.

The man's words and his scrutiny pushed every last button on Luke's already testy nerves. Luke knew what the guy really meant: You're the old boyfriend – yesterday's news. The jealousy that had been simmering for weeks suddenly catapulted to an angry, rapid boil – and promptly overflowed.

"Yes, I'm Luke," he responded, stepping away from Noah to confront the brazen interloper. "Noah's boyfriend." Luke thrust his hand outwards; the handshake offer more a challenge than a courtesy.

Quinto raised an eyebrow as he accepted, shaking Luke's hand firmly. "Don't you mean ex?"

The idiot might as well have waved a red flag at a bull. Still grasping Quinto's hand, Luke suddenly yanked his own hand back, jolting his nemesis forward. "Listen, Spock," Luke seethed, his face directly in front of the other man's. "I get it. I do. You're Joe Hollywood, so when Noah came along, you thought you had a shot. You thought wrong."

"Wow," Quinto replied, equally annoyed and amused by the pissy lunatic trying to crush his knuckles. "You wanna lift your leg and pee on him while you're at it?"

"Luke!" Noah, who'd been momentarily stunned by the turn of events, stepped in to intercede. As he separated Quinto from Luke's grip, Luke could see the warning in his eyes; the silent message that said not here.

Too bad.

"I'm sure Noah likes you," Luke addressed the actor again. "Noah likes everybody. He's a nice guy. Don't think you're special; you're not."

"Luke, cut it out-"

"You may be the star of this movie," Luke plowed on, ignoring Noah's protests. "But in Noah's life? You're nothing but a guest star. I'm his only leading man."

His tirade complete, Luke looked at Noah, ready to meet the infuriated glare that would signal he was in big trouble.

Except, it wasn't there. Noah looked stunned, to be sure. But before Luke's eyes, his expression melted, into a smile that grew bigger as Noah moved closer. Until finally, Noah's face was scant inches in front of his own, his warm breath ghosting over Luke's skin.

"Zach." Noah addressed his colleague, but didn't take his eyes off of Luke.

"Got it," the actor replied, preparing to make his exit. He addressed Luke one last time. "Nice meeting you… actually Luke, it really wasn't."

As Luke shot the guy a parting bitch-face, Noah's previous intensity collapsed into laughter. At Luke's obvious offense, Noah said, "What? If that was your intimidating look – you should probably lose the pout. And c'mon – you know you were way over-the-top with him." Before Luke could voice his very vehement objection, Noah added in a low voice, "I really dug it."

Luke's eyes widened comically. "You did?"

Noah marveled at the speed with which Luke's face could transition from bitchy, to annoyed, to the hopeful, almost naïve expression he sported now. That was his Luke.

"Of course. You're really hot as a caveman. Zach's just lucky you didn't have a club on you," Noah teased as he pulled Luke into his arms.

"Behave," Luke ordered, though the demand was somewhat weakened in light of his furious blush. "So you and him? All that Mayto stuff? When you stopped mentioning him, and then I saw him holding you…"

"We just wrapped filming – I was thanking him." Noah's heart twinged at the audible need for reassurance in Luke's questions. He was happy to provide it. "And I didn't talk about him too much on the phone because I didn't want you to believe the rumors. That's how gossip works in this town. He's gay, and I'm gay, so if we hang out – we must be having sex! Not that it's a bad idea…"

"Hey!" Luke threw his arms around Noah's neck, though not bothered by the ribbing. He pressed a sudden, hard kiss to Noah's lips, and it was returned just as eagerly. When they stopped for breath, Luke decreed, "This is the only man you'll be having sex with, bubby."

"Really?" Noah clenched Luke even more tightly, physically transmitting the message that sentiment was more than fine with him. "Can I ask when this having of the sex will be taking place? Because I happen to be free… right now…"

He sat on the crafts services table as he watched the amorous pair stumble into Noah's trailer, pulling at clothes as they disappeared behind the door. Thank God. He didn't really need to see that.

It's not that he had it bad for Noah. Of course Noah was good-looking – all right, gorgeous – and funny, and down-to-earth, and just cool to hang with. Actually, if his heart had been available to break, Noah's complete lack of romantic interest in him would burn a hell of a lot.

The kiss was still a little embarrassing. They'd been out at a club with a few of the crew, and despite Noah's protestations that he was one of the worst dancers ever born, Zach had managed to pull him onto the dance floor. Where he found out that Noah had misjudged his own abilities.

He was the single worst dancer ever born. Yet Noah gamely kept on, all awkward arm waves and jerky off-the-beat head bobs. God, it was adorable.

Zach laughed, and Noah laughed, and Zach leaned in and planted the kiss without warning. At first, Noah froze completely, his body suddenly rigid. Zach was mortified; he'd just launched an unwanted advance on his director, of all the idiotic things to do.

As he'd started to back away, sputtering apologies that couldn't be heard above the house mix, Noah seemed to get his bearings. He pulled Zach into his arms, placing his mouth at Zach's ear. "It's okay, it's okay," he explained. "I just can't. I… have someone."

Noah didn't allow Zach to leave the dance floor feeling embarrassed. Instead, he held on to him, reverting to his inexplicable massacre on the art of dance, and pitching Zach into laughter all over again. By the time they parted, after grabbing coffee and easy conversation in a quieter café, Zach knew two things: Noah Mayer had the makings of a great friend, and Noah Mayer was desperately in love with some guy named Luke Snyder. Noah talked non-stop about Luke, and the gist of it was, the guy farted rainbows while hanging the moon.

Having met the man now, Zach began to question Noah's judgment. He supposed their relationship must be one of those opposites-attract things. Apart from some discomfort at his contentious meeting with Luke, Zach was happy for Noah.

Sure, he'd been attracted to him, but it wasn't like Zach could've fallen for Noah. It had been a couple years since he'd fallen for anyone. He hadn't been able to fall in love ever since then, because he'd never fallen out.

It was a problem.

"So is Mayto D-O-… A? Damn. I wanted that to rhyme."

Zach turned, though unnecessarily so. "Moron," he chided. "How was 'A' gonna rhyme with 'O'?"

"It doesn't. Hence, the damn."

"'Hence'. Really?" Zach shook his head, and hopped down from the table, wondering how much of his tête à tête with Luke had been overheard.

"Yes, 'hence'. I thought about 'therefore', and toyed with 'thus', but I think ultimately, I made the right call. I wanted to sound smart after the egregious rhyme fail."

"'Egregious' might help," Zach conceded, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile. "Plus, it describes you-"

"All right! I drop by to see you on set and this is the welcome I get?" The visitor's feigned annoyance didn't deter him from picking over the craft services table. He nibbled at various food choices, returning unsatisfactory items to the spread complete with bite marks.

"Will you… ," Zach grabbed the offending snacks, tossing them into the trash can beside the table. "Stop. Nobody wants to eat food you already bit!"

"You do."

"That was once, and I was starving. If we hadn't been filming all day with no food, I never would've shared your sandwich. It was thoroughly disgusting, by the way. Have you ever heard of a refrigerator?"

The other man's eyes gleamed wickedly. "Yeah, I just bought one. It's a Mayto– top of the line!"

Zach stalked off, a "Fuck you, Chris" his only goodbye.

Chris Pine put the cookie he'd bitten into back on the tray before rushing to catch up. "Come on, you have to admit it sounds like a fridge. Or an indigestion pill."

"You're giving me indigestion," Zach snipped. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"What? You said I could visit you on set!" Chris had the gall to look wounded.

"That was six weeks ago. We wrapped filming today. There is no set." Zach was tired, and irritable, and in no mood for Chris to be…

"Great! We can go out! There's this new club-"

"No."

Chris balked, visibly confused. "No? Why not? Oh, shit. Did you really have a thing going on with him?"

Zach stopped walking abruptly, causing Chris to overshoot him. As Chris turned around, his face now laced with concern, Zach knew he had to get rid of him. He didn't have it in him today to hide the truth for any sustainable amount of time.

"Filming went great, by the way. Thanks for asking. The cast and crew were amazing. It was awesome of you to come by and show them your support-"

"Okay, okay, I'm an asshole," Chris interjected.

"You really are," Zach agreed. "Why do I even talk to you when we're not working?"

"Because you loooove me," Chris answered gleefully.

It was meant to be funny. It would've been, if Zach hadn't had one of his most exhausting afternoons in recent memory, followed by a bizarre confrontation with his director's boyfriend. He needed to lob an expected retort, and quickly.

Something about how Chris loved himself enough for both of them. Yeah, that would work. The only problem was, Zach knew with absolute certainty, if he responded to the teasing accusation in this particular moment, the answer would be "yes."

He couldn't say that, so he said nothing. The combination of the familiarly endearing twinkle in those eyes, and the too-close-to-home sentiment prompted Zach to turn away. He pulled his phone from his pocket, pretending to check his messages.

When he felt he'd collected himself well enough to deal with Chris, he turned back, only to be startled by their sudden proximity. The other man had breezily invaded Zach's personal space. That in and of itself was not unusual.

The element of surprise had left Zach unprepared, and grasping to locate his customarily sarcastic you're hilarious look of boredom. Suddenly face-to-face with Chris, so close he could detect the smallest specks of gold in the blazing blue eyes, Zach was defenseless. He inadvertently swayed toward his friend, unable to stop the hitch of his breath as his wayward eyes stared hungrily at Chris' lips.

Chris noticed.

The crush of realization played out across his features as Zach watched in horror. Oh shit, he knows. Shit shit shit. Fear spurred Zach into action, and he backed away, turning towards the quickest exit.

Before he could flee, hands grabbed his arms, spinning Zach back to face Chris once more. "Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me?"

Wow, it turned out that clichés were popular because they're true. Zach really did want the ground to open up and swallow him whole in this moment. Better yet, chew him up and spit him out. Then, he wouldn't have to face the humiliation of having fallen for his friend.

"Why do you think? We're friends, and we have to work together. I knew it would ruin things," Zach admitted. "Can't we forget about it? I just wanna go home."

"I can't forget this, no way," Chris argued. "But yeah, let's go. We can-"

"Chris, I'm leaving by myself. I can't talk about this right now."

Chris nodded, but instead of releasing his hold on Zach's arms, he used the grip to draw him in closer. Zach braced himself for the even though you're pathetically in love with me we can still be friends hug he knew was coming. But Chris simply held him in place, his icy blue eyes somehow searing into Zach's dark ones.

"Who said anything about talking?"

Zach blinked. The tone in Chris' voice had been… suggestive. He couldn't believe Chris would taunt him about this. But as Chris continue to stare, and his face didn't burst into jovial chuckles, like always happened with Chris' jokes – Zach began to get a different message.

"But...," he stammered, grasping for a reply. "You're... not gay!"

"Apparently, I'm versatile."

Zach tried to pull away again, and again, Chris wouldn't release him.

"You like girls."

"I like you."

Zach's next objection was swallowed by Chris' mouth covering his own. He briefly considering making a third escape attempt (because when had he ever given up so easily in an argument with Chris?). But the tongue invading his mouth felt too damn good. Honestly, it was the best kiss Zach had ever experienced.

The heated moment was broken by an unidentifiable squeak, loud enough to cause each man to come up for air, and look at the other with the same question. What was that? As the sound repeated, Zach figured it out, and pointed to the cause.

On the third squeak, both men watched as Noah Mayer's trailer ever-so-slightly lurched.

"Holy shit, are they-"

"They are," Zach confirmed.

"It's clearly a sign from God," Chris decided. "Your place, or mine?"

As Chris slid his hands into the back pockets of Zach's jeans, Zach knew he meant it. Incredibly, Chris wanted this; wanted him. Zach saw little point in continuing to fight his own interests.

He would save further debate for an argument worth winning. Like their next one, which would commence… now. "So, I get to top first…"

Inside the trailer, Luke continued to ride Noah for all he was worth, anyone within earshot be damned. He grew more vocal as he ramped up the speed with which he bounced up and down on Noah's cock, as hot and hard as he remembered. "Nooooahhhh…"

Noah dug his fingers further into Luke's hips, gripping him as hard as Noah knew he liked. The imprints would still be there tomorrow. "I've got you, baby. So good. So close… oh fuuhhhhhhck!"

As they lay together, recovering from the exertion of their lovemaking, Noah kissed the top of Luke's head as it rested against his chest. "Can I ask you something?"

Luke lifted his head, propping his chin on Noah's chest to respond. "Anything, always."

"Ok," Noah said, then addressed the only one of his fifty questions that hadn't yet been answered since Luke appeared. "What the hell were you wearing today?"

Disclaimer #2: The preceeding events are fictional. Any resemblance to real-life actors who may or may not make sweet love to each other on the Starship Enterprise is purely coincidental.