Chapter One

There was a dainty knock. Peter Paige was heard through the trailer door, "Honey? Randy, the party will start with or without us; this isn't the Oscars and we aren't Meryl."

Randy tied his shoes quickly then fumbled with a cologne bottle, almost dropping it on the floor. He spritzed and—with a guttural cough—swung his door open. A half-amused, half-annoyed Peter gave him a sigh.

"What, no dress? No curled tresses? Took you long enough, Jesus! Let's go, baby." He grabbed Randy's shirt by the shoulders and dragged him to the set's parking lot.

Randy observed Gale first. The man was leaning up against his car, smoking lazily. His eyes lit up when he saw the pair.

"Well your Majesties how nice for you to come," He raised his eyebrows at Randy. "What were you doing? Whose to impress I thought you had the job."

Randy rolled his eyes, laughing, "Shut up. Who knows how many cute guys I could be scooping up tonight?"

"Well I can be the first scoop," Scott Lowell cut in, poking his head out from the back of Gale's car, "if we actually made it there in time."

Gale gave Randy a wink before he slipped into the driver's seat. Randy joined Scott in the back after Peter had squealed, "Ooh shot gun!"

"It's almost twenty after," Scott was saying as they pulled into the street. "What a great big fat first impression on the whole cast."

"Scotty—we are the cast," Gale said. "It's not like we'll be fucking fired."

"And I'm pretty sure the whole 'TV series' thing wouldn't go so well if they fired the four principal characters," Randy added, smiling cheerfully.

"Mind, hon, fired for being late to our own party," Peter flapped a lazily hand. "I think we'll be fine. I hope we don't hit rush hour."

"Nice turn signal!" Gale hissed as a blue Outback flew into their lane.

Randy placed his chin on Gale's seatback. "Temper, temper."

"People are driving like it's fucking New Year's eve!" Gale swerved into the right lane to pass another car that just jumped in.

Randy liked the feeling of his chin on Gale's seat, he liked feeling close to him like that. Suddenly Scott pointed at a street to turn into. Minutes later they were pulling up to the restaurant's parking lot.

Peter hooked arms with Scott and they all went for the door when Gale called out, "Guys, I'm gonna take a smoke before so I don't have to step out later. Randy stay."

Peter and Scott didn't give a fuck at this point and went right in. Randy sighed, silently delighted. Laughter and music filtered through the lot when the restaurant door opened, but soon silence and darkness encompassed them once more.

Gale jumped up to sit on the front of his car and Randy followed suit, saying, "You shouldn't smoke so much."

Gale laughed out loud. "Alright, Ma."

"I don't know how the producers will feel about Brian's sudden death because Gale Harold got lung cancer from being a fucking chimney day and night," Randy knew he was being bratty, but he liked it. He leaned back and lay down on the car, looking up at Gale's frame and his gray fumes.

Gale suddenly smashed his cigar butt on his car, tossing it. He leaned back with Randy, lying directly next to him. He turned to him, inches from his face. Randy smiled questioningly, but swallowed hard. Gale's hands slipped into his pocket and with a flick, another smoke was set to his smiling lips. Randy laughed.

"Fine, die," Randy said. "See if I care."

"I'll die later," Gale sighed. "For me now, death is in that party right there."

"Why?"

"Let's just say I made things a bit more—difficult—for myself then I should of," Gale turned his head to Randy again, breathing the smoke out of his nose.

Randy breathed in his fire, watching him, saying, "Tell me."

Gale stared at him with quiet eyes then said, "The assistant to stage props…she was pretty attractive…It was pretty shitty but we kinda sorta decorated Emmett Honeycutt's bed with things we shouldn't of."

"You fucked the stage props—"

"The assistant stage props—"

"Manager?" Randy couldn't believe it, and was half put out. Gale was so fucking straight he couldn't keep it in his pants with a woman for one second! "You came on Emmett's bed?"

Gale bit his thumb. "I don't want to see her ever again. It's shitty…I feel bad. I just don't hope she's there I mean you know women get—well…You actually wouldn't know but…You know."

"Yeah, yeah," Randy suddenly laughed. "Oh god I hope you see her."

Gale nudged his head with Randy's. "Fucking thanks."

They sat up and slid off the car, walking side by side to the door, Gale's arm slung loosely around Randy's shoulders.

"Now," Gale's soft lips were at his ear and Randy almost squirmed, thinking, Shit, "if you see anyone with a vagina and long blonde hair hysterically crying, attempting to slap, pour something on, or strangle me, I'm gonna need your assistance, boy toy."

Randy laughed weakly. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

They entered.

"Our two boys!" Dan immediately surfaced to the front in the crowd. There was a large table in the middle of the restaurant and people chatting loudly in small groups around it.

Dan squeezed himself in between Randy and Gale, calling out for silence—and it was found with surprising efficiency.

"Everyone! I'd like you to meet the stars of Queer as Folk: Randy Harrison on my right and Gale Harold on my left as Justin Taylor and Brian Kinney!"

The crowd erupted in applause and Randy and Gale were pulled apart by separate groups of people; Randy couldn't even see him anymore in the thick crowd.

"Tell me about your theater experiences—what shows, what roles?" their wardrobe designator was saying.

Sherry Miller, who played Jennifer Taylor in the productions, cut in saying, "Oh yes, Randy, tell us! I used to be in the business myself. Now I'm sort of on the side-lines. What were you involved in?"

Randy heard Sharon Gless's—Debbie Novotny's—laugh from across the room and looked up to see her, Scott, Peter, and Michelle Clunie all huddled in the corner and laughing. Regretfully he settled into his 'theater tale', which he had told more often than he would have liked since he was signed on to Queer as Folk. Everyone wanted to hear about the gay theater kid.

After around ten minutes of chatting—mostly about New York, The Phantom of the Opera, Sardi's, and taxi drivers, Randy managed to escape to where Peter was flirting with one of the hosts.

"I used to love that restaurant ooh baby they had some of the greatest crab cakes of all time!" Peter winked merrily at the bronzed and blue-eyed hunk. "Sadly I don't go into Port Credit as often as I should.

"Oh, Randy baby!" Peter cried, smiling. "This is John—" suggestive look "-our head host. Isn't he dreamy?"

John laughed, eyeing Randy. "You're too nice. At least we have the same taste in food." They both chuckled.

"Nice to meet you," Randy said politely. "Have you seen Gale, Peter?"

"Is Gale your boyfriend?" the host inquired, his face falling. "You're gay too, right?"

"I am but my 'boyfriend' is not," Randy explained.

"He's washing off some champagne this woman dumped on his pants," Peter said breezily. "Scott said that Gale apparently fucked her on set and never met with her the next day like he'd said. For a straight guy, he should have known how seriously women take these things."

Randy grinned. "Oh shit that's awesome."

"You wicked witch," Peter winked. "But yeah. That's what I said. Hal on the other hand is creating some of his own drama."

"What about?"

"He's a wee pissed Dan introduced you and Gale as the main roles. He was talking about favoritism and about how it 'better not appearing in the script' because he and his manager 'did not sign on for a supporting role'."

"Yikes."

"I said that, too," Peter mused, toying with his shirt collar.

"Fuck all this I'm starving," Randy decided. Soon after he said it, Dan was calling everyone to find their seats (they were assigned) and they would begin the meal with a toast.

Randy felt a rush of pleasure when he realized Gale would be sitting right across from him. He was even more excited to find out his nuclear cast mates would be sitting right around them.

Gale was a bit late sitting down, and everyone laughed at the stain the size of—hey!—Canada on his right thigh.

"Guess I deserved that one," Gale told us. Everyone happily agreed, especially Hal.

"You know," he said, matter-of-factly from down the table. "It's not exactly professional to be hopping on every good-looking assistant-someone you see. Especially pre-production."

Gale looked unimpressed. "Gee thanks, Hal. I'll pocket the tip. Save it for a rainy day."

Hal rolled his eyes.

Ron, the second producer, was sitting at the head, on Randy's left, and he called for a toast. He began with, "First off, Dan and I would like to thank everyone here for making this important special little party. It's great bonding, and nice to sharing this time getting to know everyone before we dive into this adventure together." Ron paused, giving the room a fond sweep of his eyes, then cried, "To Queer as Folk!"

"To Queer as Folk," the crowd murmured.

"To however long she may last," Dan added, laughing.

Everyone sipped their champagne.

"Did she leave?" Randy asked Gale as soon as the waiters took their orders. Gale gave him an irritated glance.

"Who cares?" he muttered. "Who even dumps drinks on people anymore like that?"

"It was highly cinematic," Peter cut in.

"Highlight of my night," Scott agreed, blowing bubbles in his drink.

"Well I think you deserved it, Gale," Thea said. "I mean, Jesus! You should have at least apologized." Thea paused, smiling slightly. "Though she was a bit of a bitch to me whenever I couldn't find the bathrooms on set."

"You're welcome," Gale nodded to her, but glared at Randy, daring him to open the subject again.

Randy raised his hands in surrender, laughing.

The night went by smoothly. Michelle Clunie and Thea McGill dove into a discussion about Bush, followed by Peter's despair over Dior's less-than-impressive new coat line. Hal even managed to make them laugh, retelling a story about one of his casting auditions gone wrong.

"They made me do the whole audition before telling me 'Bobby' was actually a girl," Hal was saying. "Like gee, fucking thanks, right? Who knew 'Bobby' could be a unisex name? Who would do that to a TV character?"

Michelle noted, "Stranger things have happened on TV."

"Hence…" Ron gestured around him. They all grinned.

At the end of the dinner, everyone kissed cheeks farewell, full and cheerful. Gale found Randy in the crowd and grabbed his arm, making their way to the front to where Peter and Scott were waiting.

"Jesus some party huh," Gale was saying. Randy noticed with concern that his walk was slightly crooked.

"I can't believe we start pre-production tomorrow," Peter agreed. "I'm just so excited for this!"

"Gale…" Scott said, noticing how Gale was fumbling with his car keys. "How many glasses?"

Gale looked up at him in the most adorable manner. "Why Scotty I don't know what you're insinuating."

"Hand them over," Scott opened his palm.

"I'm fine! I'm perfect. I could fly." Gale tried again to open the car. Randy snatched the keys from his fingers, giving him a disapproving look.

"Nice try," Randy opened the back door of the car, making Gale go in before him. He tossed the keys to Scott.

"Why am I always playing the responsible uncle?" Scott asked as he revved up the engine. "It's cramping my style."

Gale crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and rested his head against the seatback, murmuring, "Because you act like one."

Peter and Randy snickered.

They were the first back to set so the lot was empty. Scott and Peter decided they wanted to celebrate longer and head out to a quick bar down the street. Randy was exhausted and wanted to get some sleep to function tomorrow, since they have a script reading and their first set take around ten. Gale was tipsy enough and also wanted to retire.

"Wanna have a slumber party?" Gale mumbled, twirling his fingers through Randy's hair. Randy swapped his hands away, trying to keep the smile off his face.

"See you cuties tomorrow," Peter called, waving, pulling Scott into a skip.

"SOS!" Scott cried over his shoulder, making Randy and Gale laugh.

Randy pulled Gale's arm over his shoulder, leading him into the set building further to the back where all their trailers were parked outside.

"If you show up looking like shit tomorrow—" Randy grunted as he opened Gale's trailer door, "—he'll cut off both our balls." Randy tossed Gale gently towards the bed. Gale landed softly and stretched out, moaning.

"Oh god I fucking hate parties," he whispered, covering his face with his hands.

Randy smiled, closing the door and leaning up against it. "Nobody told you to have all that champagne."

"You're right," Gale peaked at his through his fingers. "I told myself. I hate these kind of events."

"What? Dinner?"

Gale tried to kick him from the bed. "Parties."

"How come?"

"I dunno," Gale sat up, starting to unbutton his shirt, making Randy lower his gaze. "I guess I'm not a people person. I'm not good with them, anyways. Hell, the stain on my pants proves it."

"That's not being bad with people," Randy pointed out, biting his lip as Gale started unzipping his pants, adding them to the pile with his shirt and socks. "That's fucking a girl who called you out on it."

"Yeah," Gale slipped under the covers, ruffling his hair. "Nervous for tomorrow? Big lovely fucking day."

"Oh yeah…" Randy rubbed his eyes.

"Personally I'm interested in these 'cock socks'. Do they even cover our balls?"

Randy tried not to think of Gale's balls. "Oh, um I guess. I have no idea actually. I think it's just enough fabric for our dicks."

"Charming," Gale stared at the ceiling.

Randy bit his lip, taking a deep breath. "Gale—do…Do you think you could tell a hard-on through a cock sock?"

There was a paused, then a laugh. Gale looked directly at him, his eyes shining. "Are you worried you're gonna get hard in our scenes?"

Randy tried to laugh, but ended up just feeling embarrassed. "I mean sort of. I'm a gay guy…we get hard-ons whenever we even think of ass. I don't know how it's going to be."

Gale laughed but suppressed it with a smile. He motioned Randy over with his chin. Randy came and jokingly sat on Gale's legs, falling backwards and looking over at him.

Gale closed his eyes. "Listen you asshole. As much as you want it to get awkward between us just so you don't have to have the burden of my friendship—"

"Haw haw good one—"

"Let me just say, get all the hard-ons you want," Gale looked at him laughing gently. "I don't give a fuck. Same holds for me I hope."

Randy raised his eyebrows, smiling. "What?"

"You said 'gay guy' before. But let me tell you any type of guy can get horny on anything. Period." Gale patted his arm. "Glad we had this beautiful talk."

Randy sat up, loving Gale's boyish but teasing expression. "Me, too. Honestly." Randy ruffled Gale's hair before getting up to the door.

Right before he left he heard the faintest ruffling and a snap of a lighter. Randy could already smell the smoke. He walked back to his trailer, his own smoky smile playing at his lips.