Author's note: I'd just like to thank the people who took the time to leave reviews on this story. Thank you for your encouragement! Your kind words mean a lot.

You've been on a tight shooting schedule before, but despite that, not to mention Hunt and Chris' warnings about what to expect, you're still not entirely prepared for the sheer intensity of starring in a Hollywood blockbuster. It's a little different to being the producer as well; when you'd been producing you hadn't needed to be on-set 100% of the time, but as one of the stars, most of the scenes can't be filmed without you. You have to take a special leave of absence from school (most of the faculty doesn't mind; a student hand-picked to star in a major summer release is just the kind of publicity the school wants) and you and Hunt aren't able to spend as much time together anymore.

Tonight is another one of those late nights on set, and when you slide into bed beside Hunt, trying your best not to rouse him, it's almost 2 o'clock.

"Hey…" His sleepy voice wafts up from the ocean of blankets and you wriggle closer to press a kiss to his cheek. "What god awful hour of the morning is it?"

"1:50ish," you say. "Sorry for waking you up."

He groggily drapes an arm over your chest and pulls you closer. "I'll reluctantly sacrifice a little sleep if it means I get to see you. How was work?"

His voice, huskier than usual and thick with sleep, is comforting and welcome after a long day and you return his embrace, burying your face between his shoulder and neck.

"Good. Exhausting. We're making progress. But with filming starting to wind down soon, we're going to have to start promotional work too. Feels like it never ends."

"Lucky this is your dream job, then," he replies with no sympathy, although he does gently stroke your hair, which you suppose counts for something.

"How about you? How's school going? I miss staring at your face for hours a day, even if you do tend to drone on sometimes."

Hunt ignores the slight. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Although Ms. Stone has taken to bringing in all the unflattering tabloids she can find featuring you, and loudly discussing them with her friends before class starts."

"Oh god…" you roll your eyes. "Do I even want to know what's in them?"

"They're all the same, really. Mostly about you and Chris Winters and whether or not you're rekindling your relationship. Where you've been seen together. What you were doing. I believe she's bringing them in for my benefit." You can hear the agitation in his voice. It makes you worry a little.

"You do know there's nothing actually going on between us, right?" You slip your hand under his pajamas to stroke the skin of his hip. "The whole, 'Honey, I was working late' isn't an excuse or anything, I swear. The schedule is just crazy."

"You needn't explain yourself to me. I think I know even more intimately than you how time consuming it is to create a film." He exhales softly into your hair. "And more importantly, I trust you. I just don't appreciate that someone is going out of their way to try and damage that trust. If it weren't for Ms. Stone's antics, I would be able to ignore those tabloids completely."

You nuzzle his jawbone, feeling a wave of relief at his answer. "Oh, come on. Even I check out what they're saying about me in the magazines sometimes, and some of the pictures are very flattering. Don't tell me you aren't interested in seeing those smoking hot pictures of your girlfriend."

"I'm not," Hunt protests. "Not when I have the real thing coming home to me every night… even if it is at 2:00 in the morning."

"Even though I'm coming home frazzled and sweaty with patches of stage makeup still on my face because I was too tired to wash it off properly?" You prop your head up on a hand and peer at his silhouette, a smirk only just visible on his face in the dark room.

"I'll take the real you in whatever form you come in, even if you do smell like day old sweat."

"Gee, thanks. We've been spending so little time together lately I forgot what a romantic you can be," you say, giving his shoulder a playful shove. He catches your hand and kisses along your knuckles.

"Get some rest," is all he says in reply. "You have to be up early again tomorrow. If you go to sleep now, you can still get a solid 5 hours."

"Mm." That's one idea you can agree with. You cuddle close to him again, nestling your head in the crook of his shoulder, and he loosely wraps an arm around your waist. "Make sure I don't sleep through the alarm again."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He brushes his lips across your forehead. "Goodnight."

Although you and Hunt don't see very much of each other due to your conflicting work schedules, you're constantly in contact – as much as you can be, anyway. He pretends that the barrage of texts and pictures you send annoy him, but you can tell that he secretly likes it; he keeps replying to them, after all.

Whenever you get a break (or even just a "take five!"), you send him paragraph long texts about what's happening on set, and you haven't missed a day of sending him a snap of the catered lunch with added witty commentary (although yesterday's was more of a lament – "I've encountered rocks softer than these bagels. Just… why?").

Today, your lunch break is a little longer and Chris invites you to join him at a modest diner down the road from the studio. According to him, it's supposed to have really good burgers.

You settle into a booth together and whip out your phone while Chris is perusing the menu, sending a text to Hunt.

'Getting lunch offset with Chris. Want to bet how long it'll take before another article about 'Hollywood Heartthrob and Up-and-Coming Student Starlet Have Romantic Meal Together' surfaces?'

You're looking over your own menu when your phone buzzes. It's a text from Hunt. Your lunch breaks must have finally coincided for once, you think, as an irrepressible smile crosses your face.

'That's entirely dependent on the kind of establishment you're dining in. Care to fill me in?'

'Just a typical American diner. I'm thinking about getting a burger, so you know there will be sauce on my clothes before we've even finished eating.'

His response comes quick.

'I'm betting approximately an hour and a half, while they try to figure out how to put a coherent spin on a story about why billionaire movie star Chris Winters, who could afford to take an entire soccer team out to the highest rated Michelin star restaurant in L.A, plans to woo his new belle with lunch at a run of the mill burger place.'

You smother a giggle, then look up to find Chris eyeing you expectantly. You realize he's ready to order.

"Oops, sorry about that. Well, since you spoke so highly of the burgers here, guess I'm honor-bound to get one, huh. Preferably the one with the most cheese."

Chris grins at you with his trademark easy-going charm. "And this is why I like you."

He signals the waitress and places your orders. While he does, you reply to Hunt.

'I'm betting three hours. Haven't spotted any paps yet, but we'll see. Loser has to do the laundry for a week.'

"So," Chris' voice causes your head to snap up, tearing your gaze from the screen. "Not too long until filming wraps up now, huh? How did you like starring in your first blockbuster?"

"Oh…" you pocket your phone. "It's mostly everything I dreamed it would be. Hard work. Exhausting. Enormous budget."

"Sleep depriving?" Chris shoots you a knowing look. "I've seen the circles under your eyes before you get makeup done. It takes a while to get used to."

You nod, looking pained. "Mankind was not made to last on a weekly quota of 28 hours of sleep. I mean, it's not like I haven't pulled all-nighters for projects at school, but months of it? Ongoing? Now that I'm not accustomed to."

"Yeah, that's why I've had my fair share of nights just sleeping on set. Means I didn't waste time I could've been sleeping on a commute back home."

The two of you discuss the movie until your burgers arrive. When the waitress sets them down in front of you, your eyes widen.

"Okay, so I think you neglected to mention that this thing was going to be the same size as my head. I didn't even know they made buns this big."

Chris laughs. "You can give me anything you don't finish. I can pack away quite a lot into this manly physique. Plus, I didn't have time for breakfast today."

You pull your phone out again and snap a picture, then notice a new text from Hunt. You open it.

'I will make no such bets. I'm merely hazarding a guess as to how long it will take a new story to break about you, given your current choice of restaurant. Also, I will have you know that I've already been doing the laundry for the last two months because I'm aware of your hectic work schedule.'

You roll your eyes but can't help smiling again. Ignoring his message, your send him the photo of your burger.

'Can you believe the size of this thing? Right now, I can't tell you who is going to emerge from this victorious; me or the burger.'

You put your phone away again and catch Chris looking at you with a slight wrinkle between his eyes.

"You're sure on that thing a lot," he says, gesturing to your phone, and you suddenly feel guilty. You've been paying more attention to your screen than the actual person in front of you.

"Sorry about that," you apologize. "I just… I don't get to see Thomas that much during the day, so I want to make sure we stay in contact. I didn't mean to ignore you. I'll try to keep it to a minimum."

Chris grins at you again, but it looks forced. "You really care about him, huh."

A faint blush crosses your cheeks beneath your makeup, and you stare down at your plate with what might be a look of longing on your face. And it's nothing to do with your lunch. "I… we've been through a lot. I want to make sure this works."

Chris doesn't say anything, but the wrinkling of his brow on his otherwise immaculate face gives away that he's deep in thought.

Finally, he speaks. "You're a good woman. Times like this, I really wish I …" He trails off, combing a hand through his hair and exhaling harshly. "Never mind." Another forced-looking grin. "You know, I was just as surprised as anyone to hear that you were dating one of the most notoriously critical names in the business… not to mention living with him."

"Not to mention that he's my professor," you add.

"Well… yeah. There's that, too," Chris agrees, taking a bite of his burger. He chews thoughtfully, then continues after swallowing. "But to be honest, that's not what surprised me the most. I mean, I've never worked with him myself, but I've worked with people who have, and well… he and you are just so… different."

The edge of your mouth quirks. "Opposites attract."

"They must," Chris says with a shrug. "I mean, you're just so… you're so positive and bright and cheerful. You can light up a whole room with your smile, and you always stay optimistic even in the most adverse circumstances."

The quirk of your mouth turns into a full-on smirk. "Keep talking, Chris, I do love having my ego stroked."

He laughs, eyes wrinkling around the edges, and shakes his head fondly. "Doesn't count if it's true." His expression suddenly becomes somber. "But Hunt… he just seems like your polar opposite. He's so… well, not negative, per se, but he's so critical. There's this permanent scowl on his face, and he's so quick to point out the worst in people."

You open your mouth to argue, but Chris continues quickly.

"I mean, I know he's not all bad. I've seen his work. And if you like him… well, that says something. It's just, when you and I were still… together…" His voice hitches on the word a little. "You were always going on about how mean he was, how unfair he was, and would it kill him to say something nice for once… I guess it's just hard for me to imagine you together after that."

You can't help but chuckle softly. "I guess I was always saying stuff like that, wasn't I." You shrug. "I must have grown up."

Chris swallows audibly and then his grin is suddenly back, still looking fragile around the edges. "But hey, what do I know? You're living with the guy. You know what's going on between the two of you better than I do."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh, I should hope so, Chris. Otherwise that's some grade-A stalker work you're putting in there."

He laughs a little self-consciously. "So, how about these burgers? Pretty great, huh? Was I right or was I right?"

You nod, a little more enthusiastically than you'd intended too, grateful that he's changed the topic. If you're totally honest with yourself, this one matter that you'd prefer not to pursue with Chris right now. Or ever.

You finally get a rare half-day away from filming – Chris has a few scenes to reshoot alone, in which his character comes to term with his demons and finally allows himself to admit his true feelings for your character, beyond as pupil and someone to vicariously live his dreams through. Since the movie is almost over and about to enter post production, you use your time off to visit campus and collect the necessary paperwork for the return from your leave of absence.

It's a gorgeous spring day, sun out with fluffy white clouds dotting the pale blue sky. You decide to take a leisurely stroll around campus while waiting for Hunt to finish with work for the day; you've agreed to go home together, maybe stop for dinner on the way, but you have a few hours to kill before he'll be done. You're just thinking about maybe stepping off campus for a bit when you run into Lisa, heading back to the pop star dorm after a lecture.

"Hey, stranger." She slow-jogs over to you, waving a hand in greeting. "Long time no see. Heard the movie's going well. Congrats."

"Yeah, we've practically finished. As amazing as the experience was, I'm so ready for a break."

"I hear you there, sister." Lisa slings an arm around your shoulders. "I could not wait for the between-seasons breaks when I was still doing Lisa Mermaid."

"But everyone has been really professional, so the only complaint I really have is that it's just been so tiring."

"Mmm. And how has working with Chris been?" Lisa gives you a knowing look. "I've seen all the tabloids. Well, not that I was trying. Bianca keeps bringing them into class and yapping about them with Jenni and Lance until Hunt snaps at her."

"So I heard," you reply dryly. "Thomas told me that she's doing it to get to him."

Lisa makes a noise of disgust. "Yeah. She would. I think she still can't get over the fact that not only are you dating the hottest teacher on campus, but that she also couldn't get away with blackmailing the two of you over it. Typical spoilt diva. Hey, wanna hang out at my place for a while if you're not doing anything?"

"Sure," you accept, and Lisa leads you across campus towards the pop star dorm.

"Also, don't think I'm letting you off the hook that easily. You still haven't told me what it's been like working with Chris despite all the history you guys have."

It's not surprising that she's so interested; although Addison is your best friend, Lisa knows better than anyone the ins and outs of your old relationship with Chris. She'd been the one to help you sort out the scandal with Megan, and so she'd also ultimately been the one you'd first told about Chris' proposal and your subsequent rejection of it right afterwards.

"Well, I can definitely assure you that none of the tabloid articles are true," you explain. "Although, sometimes… no, never mind."

Lisa pauses from fiddling with the lock to her dorm room and wheels around, fixing you with an intense stare. "Wait, wait, hold up, don't tell me you've still got feelings for Chris Winters while you're shacking up with Professor Hot. Let me guess, long hours on set together have started to rekindle that old flame and now you're stuck in an epic love triangle."

She finally notices you staring back at her like she's insane.

"Or not. Okay, so what's actually going on? You don't get to 'never mind' your way out of this one." She shoots you a wry grin, arms folded in front of her chest. "No one dangles juicy gossip in front of Lisa Valentine's face and then snatches it away. You're telling me everything. Now."

You look around furtively. "Okay, okay. Don't scream it to the world though. This isn't just about me; it's about the university's most coveted professor and one of the biggest heartthrob actors of our time. That's the kind of juicy gossip everyone wants to know."

"Okay, got it." Lisa turns the key in her look and swings the door open, gesturing for you to enter. "We need to talk somewhere more private. After you."

Lisa's room is a shambles, and you bite back a chuckle, remembering what your dorm looked like before you moved in with Hunt and were forced to become neater, or face the consequences. You gingerly sit down on the sofa, sweeping aside a couple of magazines and an empty packet of potato chips to make room for yourself.

Lisa sits down on a cushion on the floor, looking up at you expectantly.

"Okay. We're in private. Now, tell me everything."

You sigh, but know it's no use. Lisa's like a dog with a bone when it comes to think kind of thing. The harder you pull away, the tighter she'll clamp on.

"Alright. There's nothing much to tell, to be honest. It's just I'm getting some… vibes from him, you know."

"Sexy vibes?" Lisa asks, and you throw a pillow at her. She just catches it.

"No! Nothing like that," you hasten to explain. "I don't know, I could be imagining it, but sometimes it feels like he hasn't moved on. Whenever I mention Thomas, Chris' smile starts to look all stiff. And sometimes he starts to sound all nostalgic before cutting himself off and changing the topic. It's happened a few times now."

Lisa's eyes flash and she looks a little too excited for your liking. You'd forgotten just quite how much she enjoyed gossip.

"Wow, that means he's been holding a torch for you for, what, how many months?" Her voice gets low, conspiratorial. "You think he's going to act on it?"

You shake your head. If he'd wanted to make a move on you, he would've done it by now. There's no 'right time' he could be waiting for to spring that confession on you; not when he knows all about your relationship with Hunt and how well it's going. There will never be a 'right time'.

"I don't think so. Chris is a good guy. He's not the home-wrecker type. Even if he does feel a little jealous." You shrug. "It definitely wouldn't be good for his clean-cut image. Everyone sees him as the hero, which is part of why he got typecast for so long."

Lisa looks critical. "I dunno. Seems like he's pretty stuck on you. If it'd been me who'd bought you a giant rock, taken you to Paris and then gotten rejected at the top of the Eiffel tower, I would just be like… good riddance." She pauses, grinning at you sardonically. "No offence or anything. But I definitely wouldn't be going to friendly after-work dinners with you."

"None taken. But you and Chris are very different people, Lisa."

Lisa nods. "Don't have to tell me that. Personally, I think if anything happens or not will come down to whether his 'good guy' morals are stronger than his fear of losing you to Hunt forever."

"Heh," you let out a short chuckle. "You sure know how to make things dramatic."

"Yeah." Lisa doesn't deny it. "Comes in handy in this business."

She's probably just being paranoid, you think, or maybe watching too many movies. Something that comes with the trade. Either way, you're pretty sure you have nothing to worry about with Chris. 99% sure, at least.

After two and a half long months, your cast and crew finally complete filming at about 10:30pm on a Thursday night. The director announces that the wrap party will be scheduled for Saturday night, when you're all awake enough to enjoy it. The cast and crew are in full agreement, most of them looking like they'd rather drag themselves home and hibernate for 24 hours rather than party the night away. It'd been a tight schedule.

A couple of younger, more chipper members, however, are keen to go out and celebrate. The two girls who'd played the roles of your teammates in the movie, Monique Williams and Stacy Ng, grab you before you can go anywhere and practically beg you into coming along. The three of you had grown quite close during filming and after sending Hunt a quick message to let him know what was happening, you decide to accept.

"You're coming too, right Chris? A pre-wrap party wouldn't be complete without the star of the movie," Stacy wheedles, and Chris lets out a good-natured laugh.

"I guess you're right." He smiles at you. "And how could I say no to such good company?"

What Lisa had said to you the other day at the dorms flits through your mind and even without being able to see it, you know the smile you give him in return is a little weak.

Your fellow cast members choose a slightly high-end bar with a VIP area to assure no paparazzi or overly zealous fans can interrupt the small celebration. Monique pops a bottle of champagne and you all toast to a job well done. You relish in the crisp flavor and the way the bubbles tickle your mouth, and soon you have a good buzz going. After a couple of hours, some of your party take off home, and the remainder of you relocate to a slightly cozier bar, chatting over beers and reminiscing about funny moments on set.

Eventually it's just Chris and you left, tucked into a booth in the shop. Your cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and you're in high spirits.

"You know, Chris," you say, slurring slightly, "I'm really glad that you asked me to star in this movie with you. I learned so much, and I had such a great time. I owe you."

"Oh, s'nothing." He waves it off, eyes twinkling. He's slurring worse than you, and you giggle.

"You might wanna slow down," you warn him. "Don't party too hard before the real party. You'll just end up going from one hangover to another."

"Yeah, but… I'm having fun." He cocks his head, smiling helplessly. "I always have fun with you."

You nod. "Yeah. I have fun with you too. I'm really glad we could still be friends after the whole… you know. Paris thing."

"Yeah, that…" Chris laughs, and while he still looks happy, it sounds a little lost. "That was… hard to bounce back from. Not saying I didn't deserve it… but it was hard. Hell, if you'll let me be honest with you, I'm not sure I'm completely over it." Then he adds in a smaller voice, which you barely catch, "Or you."

You pretend you didn't hear it. "I'm sorry, Chris."

"No." He holds up a hand. "You did what you had to. You had every right. I think I was just dreaming a little. I screwed everything up."

He sighs, then slumps against you, the alcohol obviously starting to get to him.

You put a comforting hand on his knee. "No, you were… you were great. We both made some mistakes, had some bad luck and the outcome… just happened to end up like this."

Chris' hand creeps on top of yours and you feel your face grow redder, embarrassment mixing with alcohol. You rack your brains, trying to figure out how to pull your hand away without hurting him further.

"You're so amazing. Whatever you say, I still blame myself 100% for letting you go. If only I'd…"

He's silent for a long time and you wonder for a moment if he's fallen asleep. You turn your head, and find yourself face to face with him, and he's watching you, his eyes glossy. Your breath hitches. Too close. Almost close enough that…

Chris sighs again. "I think… losing you is the biggest regret of my life. I just wish…"

And then suddenly he's leaning in and you can't stop it and his lips are on yours before you can react. The kiss is chaste, but you hardly feel it because suddenly there's a rushing in your ears and your heart rate skyrockets. You pull back abruptly, knocking over a half empty glass of beer, and it spills all over the table and the menus.

"Shit!" You curse, and Chris pulls back too, suddenly looking guilty.

"Oh, god, I'm so… here, let me…"

You just sit there dumbly as he tries to mop up the mess on the table best he can with a handful of napkins and inhibited fine motor skills. Eventually a staff member comes over and cleans it up for you. When they go to leave, you ask for the bill.

"I… should probably go now," you say, and though you speak haltingly, your words have a sense of finality to them.

Chris nods, unable to meet your eyes. "I'm so sorry, that was so stupid of me. Anyone could've seen that right now, and you and Hunt… agh, I'm sorry. That was… damn, what a stupid lapse in judgment."

You smile, tight-lipped. "Don't worry, then windows are all blacked out, and we're basically the only patrons, not to mention we're tucked into this tiny corner booth. You picked the best time to have a stupid lapse in judgment. No cameras around here."

He chuckles. It's kind of dry and tinged with an edge of self-loathing. "There's no good time for a lapse of judgment like that. I hope this doesn't ruin our friendship. I swear, nothing like this will ever happen again."

You can't help the sigh that escapes your lips. "Yeah… you should probably make sure it doesn't. Look, after we pay, I'd better get going. It's past 2 and I don't want Thomas to worry."

"Let me pay," Chris rushes to assure you. "It's the least I can do after… well, everything."

"Thanks, but I've got this." You flick a few bills onto the table. "That should be enough to cover my share. See you at the wrap party, Chris."

He still won't look you in the eye. "Yeah… see you there."

You rise to leave, and as soon as you're out the door of the bar, you sprint for the nearest taxi, furiously scrubbing at your lips with the back of your hand.

Hunt is, as usual, fast asleep when you creep in the door, but stirs when you rustle the bed covers.

"Late," he mumbles, and you slide your arms around him and pull him tightly against you. He grumbles sleepily, but returns the embrace and you exhale against his broad chest.

"I need to tell you something," you whisper, and you feel him grow rigid in your arms before relaxing. He's unmistakably awake now.

"Go on," he says. "I'm listening."

It all comes out in a rush of words.

"I was at a bar like I said I'd be and everyone went home and it was just me and Chris and then we were talking and I thought he was asleep and then I looked at him and then he was suddenly kissing me. I'm so, so sorry, Thomas…"

He doesn't let go of you immediately, which you take as a good sign, but he doesn't really do anything else either, not for a long time. You hear him inhale, then exhale, deep and steady.

"And were you a willing participant in this?" He asks, in measured tones.

"No!" You reply immediately. "No, no, I didn't, I just sprung back after it happened and knocked my beer everywhere and then I came home."

He lets out a short bark of laughter. "Yes, you would, wouldn't you. Good, that's all I needed to know."

You wait for a beat to see if he's going to follow up with anything else, but he doesn't, and he's still holding you.

"Aren't you… angry?" You ask dubiously. You've seen him have stronger aggressive reactions to toothpaste commercials that he thinks could have been directed better.

"Oh, I am not pleased with Mr. Winters at all, and I think we will be having words of the less than friendly variety. But I realize what you're asking." He pulls away for a moment, groping around on his bedside table. There's a click and his lamp floods the room with the low orange light. He looks into your eyes, but you see no jealousy, no anger.

He looks deep into your eyes. "You are not at fault for his actions. He's the one who behaved poorly, and I don't blame you."

He strokes your hair and lets out a content sigh.

"But maybe… I was accidentally sending mixed signals. I touched his knee, I didn't mean anything by it, but I still did it and maybe he took it the wrong way…"

"Shh." Hunt shushes you with a kiss. "Don't make excuses for other people's poor behavior. He kissed you without your consent. I won't hear you make any excuses for him."

A shaky laugh escapes your lips and you grab his hand, twining your fingers together and bringing it to rest above your heart. "Geez. How are you so perfect?"

He smiles. "Oh, I expect it's half genetics, half years of dedicated work. But that's off the record." Then, completely serious again, "Tonight… you left as soon as it happened and you confided in me as soon as you came home. Rather than the opposite, I actually take this as a further sign that I can trust you implicitly."

He gives your hand a tender squeeze, and the expression on his face is warm, unguarded. His feelings are laid bare before you, no bravado and no hiding behind witty sarcasm. "I love you, you know."

You feel like he's just broken your heart into pieces and rebuilt it again, stronger, more complete than ever before. It's the first time he's ever said those words to you.

"Me too… I mean… I love you," you whisper back, and because he's Thomas Hunt, fabled director and Hollywood legend, it's only right and natural that he reply in a movie quote.

"I know."

The next day you can't help fretting about the situation again – this time not about Hunt's reaction, but what to do when you next face Chris.

"I planned to bring you as my plus one to the wrap party, but now I'm not sure if even I want to go," you lament.

Hunt rolls his eyes, not a shred of pity in his voice when he replies. "You'll have to face him sooner rather than later. Don't think you're going to be able to promote an entire movie without even seeing him once. In fact, you will be in quite close quarters. I suggest you clear the air before you're thrust into that situation, and what better way to do it than attending the wrap party with me?"

You look at him suspiciously. "I seem to recall you mentioning something about having strong words with him the next time you saw him. I don't want you to start anything in public."

Hunt raises an eyebrow in disdain. "Please try to have more faith in me. As you should know, it's in my nature to keep these kinds of matters civil."

You raise an eyebrow of your own. "The last time you saw a guy making unwanted advances on me, you punched him in the face."

Hunt coughs into his hand, his cheeks turning a faint pink. "I wouldn't compare that Neanderthal to Mr. Winters. He may have had a grave error, but after listening to your full recount, it sounds like he backed off when you made it clear his affections were unwanted. That wasn't true of the last time. That called for… more drastic measures."

He pauses.

"Also, he called me Grandpa."

You laugh, feeling your spirits lift a little. "Whatever you say, Grandpa. But you're right. I'm going to see Chris whether I want to or not, so I may as well face him with you beside me."

"That and you deserve to go to your first Hollywood blockbuster wrap party," Hunt says. "Don't let him ruin that for you."

You consider it for a moment and then nod decisively. "You're right. And I've been dying to introduce you to the girls. Monique practically grew up on your work and she's a huge fan, so she about flipped when I mentioned bringing you to the wrap party as my date. She'd be devastated if we didn't show."

"Well then," Hunt says, "That settles it. I'd better dust off my good suit."

You roll your eyes and call after him as he retreats from the room. "Oh, please. They're all your good suits!"

The party is a lavish affair, with an open bar and so many different kinds of canapés that you eventually lose count. Apparently Chris chose and paid for the venue, an upper-story restaurant with huge glass windows and a panoramic view of the city stretching out before you. It was a great choice, you think, looking over at Chris as he sips champagne and chats with the producer. He's been studiously avoiding you all night, barely meeting your eyes when you walked in with Thomas on your arm. And there you'd been, worrying about whether you'd be able to summon the courage to talk to him.

Monique practically wets herself with excitement when you introduce her to Hunt, a bright blush spreading across her dark skin as she manages to stammer out how much she loves his work and what it means to her that he's come back to directing.

"Careful," you tell her. "I'm afraid if his ego inflates anymore, it's going to burst."

Hunt mutters something about pots and kettles, but he has an amused look on his face.

It's at that moment you look up and notice that Chris is finally alone, probably for the first time that night. Hunt seems to notice at the same moment and takes you by the arm.

"If you'll excuse us for a moment, I could do with some more champagne."

Chris notices that Hunt is making a beeline for him a little too late to escape and his face grows oddly pale. He seems to be eyeing the distance to the bathroom from where he's standing when the two of you stop in front of him.

"Evening, Mr. Winters," Hunt says, tone strangely amicable.

"Hey Chris," you add, and Chris manages to paste on a friendly smile and reply in turn.

Hunt doesn't sound angry at all, and you can almost see Chris hoping that maybe you hadn't told him about what went down the other night, and that maybe he is going to live another day after all.

"Congratulations on the completion of your movie. I had the privilege of reading the screenplay and I'm looking forward to seeing how you brought your character to life."

"Oh… thanks," Chris says, sounding mostly normal, albeit a little shaky. "I had a great co-star this time, so it made the work really easy."

"Yes, she told me the night before last just how great you think she is," Hunt replies and Chris cringes.

"So… I uh, guess that's what you've come to talk to me about, huh." Forget looking like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar – Chris looks more like a child caught sneaking into the whole cookie factory.

"That would be a correct assumption," Hunt says. "That wasn't a very polite thing to do to her or me."

Chris stares down at the ground, fiddling with his bow tie.

"Look, I can't begin to apologize enough about that, to you or her…" He exhales deeply. "Geez, this is embarrassing. You sure know how to corner a guy, huh."

"Yes, I'm an expert," Hunt says dryly.

"Chris, you apologized enough after it happened," you cut in. "I think Thomas just… he can't really leave this kind of thing alone, pretend it never happened."

Chris finally looks Hunt in the eye. He has his trademark glare on his face, but Chris weathers it.

"She's a really, really great woman. Keep treating her better than I did." He looks a little reluctant to continue, but presses on, regardless. "I was drunk, and I think it just suddenly occurred to me that she wasn't coming back, and I wasn't ever going to get another chance and I… I screwed up."

Chris shrugs helplessly.

"That's a mild way of putting it," Hunt replies. "But you had to know, being the way she is, that she wouldn't stand for it. She's loyal. You know that." He squeezes your forearm tenderly.

"Yeah." Chris nods and looks at you. "I think… that's part of the reason why I did it, instead of just leaving it. If I'd really thought I had a chance, that you'd accept my advances… I don't think I would've. You guys are good together. Hurts to admit it, but you are. I wouldn't want to break that up."

"Kind of a shitty way to finally get closure, Chris," you say bluntly, and he has the decency to look ashamed. "But I'll give you another chance, as a friend. Despite this slip-up, you've done a lot for me and I value our friendship. But this is a two strikes and you're out kind of situation."

"I know," he says, quickly but solemnly. "I'm going to actually try and move on. Obviously, I wish it was with me, but even though it isn't, it's good to see you so happy."

"I strive for nothing less than excellence," Hunt says. You elbow him.

"Look, I'd better make some more rounds but, uh… I hope this is all sorted out between us now. All three of us," Chris says, and you nod.

"Yeah. Pretty sweet venue you chose, by the way. It's a great party."

"I can confirm this. One of the more decent wrap parties I've attended," Hunt says and Chris smiles at the two of you gratefully.

"Thanks. See you guys around, I guess."

He walks off, a slight slump to his posture. When he's out of earshot, you turn to Hunt.

"You let him off easy. Getting soft?"

He chuckles. "Perhaps. But he's accepted the fact that he violated your trust and moved on you without your consent and he's not making excuses. Any accusations I could've made would have been a waste."

"How economical of you."

"I can be when I choose to." He looks satisfied with the outcome. "Now, how about we continue the celebration with some more champagne?"

You smile and slip your hand into his. "I think you read my mind."