Title: Scenes of Other Worlds
Author: Cypher
Fandom: Static Shock (of course)
Summary: What if the Big Bang never happened? What if super heroes weren't the norm?
Spoilers: Minor ones for Future Shock
Rating: R, for mature scenes in the future
Warnings: This chapter, well, gay plays, kilts, and a fadeout to... Unbetaed.
Disclaimer: I don't own Static Shock, DC (or some subsidiary of it) does. I'm just borrowing the characters and settings to flex my creative muscles.
Distribution: Ask and thy shall recieve.
Author's Notes: This is a short chapter, forced to post because a certain author is holding a certain fic involving a certain detective and a certain pervy superhero hostage unless I do. She's also got a thing for kohl and...well, you'll see. So everyone, blame the author of "Dakota Noir" for making me write this. Also: enjoy!

There was always something refreshing about rehearsing a new play. Virgil wasn't sure what it was. It could've been the new dialogue, the thrill of impressing the audience, or maybe it was just the fact that he got to dress up in costume and play hero. Or at least, a tragic hero. He blamed his teenage years, between all the dreams of wanting to be a costumed hero and performing on stage to impress the girls, he fell in love with the theater.

Something his room mate teased him relentlessly about. Ever since he first played Mercutio in sophomore year, Richie found some angle about everything he performed in to mock. It was in jest, of course, as was their way. Rich teased him about his plays, and he teased the blond about the kiddie video games the software company made him work on. Really pathetic stuff, involving Muppets, Disney characters, and once he thought he saw Tinkie Winky on his friend's computer screen.

It wasn't quite where they saw themselves after graduating college. Neither of them did graduate, officially. Rich had quit for a full-time job at a Microsoft subdivision specializing in educational games, and he'd fallen in love with the theater. His Pops was upset, of course, but the call was just too strong to ignore. He wasn't aiming to make it big, and if he did it'd be great, but all that mattered to him was the energy, the vibe, that was between him and any audience.

He and Rich shared an apartment, and they barely made ends meet. The blond brought in the majority of money, since working for Microsoft was an actual job. And he…well, he always managed to cover utilities and groceries--a feat, considering how much electricity and food his friend consumed. It was hard, but it didn't suck, and that was the important thing.

This week, he was practicing for Edward the Second, the part of…Edward, of course. A minor play, wasn't really expected to bring much in, but he wasn't always in it for the cash. "Here, take my crown--the life of Edward, too. Two kings in England cannot reign at once. But stay awhile; let me be King till night, that I may gaze upon this glittering crown; so shall my eyes receive their last content, my head, the latest honor due to it."

"You know," Richie's voice floated out from the bedroom, "that's a gay play."

"So says the man trying on a dress."

"Kilt, V. It's a kilt." A muffled curse followed the clarification. "Damned wool."

"What's that for again?" He sat on the edge of the coffee table--a stable, but very used piece of furniture he and Rich had picked up at a garage sale-- and skimmed through the play. He had the words down, but he still felt the voice was wrong. He was the king for Christ's sake! He needed to sound more authoritative, more forceful.

"Historical reenactment. Since I have some Scandinavian blood that ties back to Scotland, they thought I'd be best in native garb."

"Why're you even bothering?"

"For the kids, Virg. You remember how boring history was? Besides, it's tradition." Virgil could hear the smirk in the blond's voice. "Why? Upset that your dad asked me instead of you?"

"Hardly. I'm just glad those damned tribal masks outgrew me."

"Please. You enjoyed wearing those. Especially when you jumped out of the dark to scare the shit outta me."

"So this is what, payback? I have to admit, you in drag is a terrifying concept." A grin crept across his face at the amusing visual.

"Shaddup." He heard Richie come out of the room, but didn't look up, still reading his lines and cycling through various voices in his head. "And you changed the subject. That's still a gay play."

"So? It conveys a powerful message."

"That if you're queer you get a hot poker shoved up your ass, and not metaphorically?"

"You're a riot, Rich, you know tha-" His mouth stopped as he looked up and saw his room mate. His friend was wearing a Scottish flannel kilt, an emblem stitched into the lower right corner. The blond was also wearing fur-lined boots that traveled halfway up the calves. And that was it. The rest of Rich's body was covered with a light coat of body paint, and kohl lined the man's eyes. And when Richie sat on the couch, Virgil swallowed loudly at the rather…expansive view. "Are you going…commando?"

"As is traditional." Richie wrinkled his nose. "Wool's a bitch, though. I'm gonna be scratching all night."

Virgil had another thing he'd like to scratch, and he quickly covered his groin with his playbook. "You, uh, look good."

"Thanks. I wanted to try the full effect before the day. What do you think? Realistic, or is the paint over the top?"

"N-no. Seems just…just perfect." It covered most of Rich's skin, but at the same time it revealed every inch of the pale body, a body Virgil had coveted for the past two years and had never had the courage to act on. After all, as far as he could tell, Richie was straight. There wasn't a parade of girls every night, but there was almost nothing about the man that revealed anything than utter heterosexuality. Until this moment, with Rich's legs splayed, the kilt riding up, and a very visible set of thighs that practically made his mouth water.

"Good. Though maybe I shouldn't be so totally accurate. At least put on a thong so a breeze doesn't show everyone what I've got downstairs."

Virgil shut his eyes and bit back a very wanting groan. Maybe he should just admit what he wanted to Rich. This was just…too tempting, and he doubted he could fight himself much longer. Abruptly, he stood and headed for the bathroom. He had to take care of this NOW! There was no way he could wait for his friend to fall asleep tonight.

He was so totally not expecting Rich to follow him. On top of that, Rich leaned against the sink, crossed his arms, and gave Virgil that smug satisfied smirk his friend always got when he'd just aced something. It was one of the sexiest looks Virgil had seen, though never had been directed at him like this one was. "You need something, bro?"

"Just wondering if you need help with that."

He felt a flush spread to his cheeks, and was grateful his dark skin hid this fact fairly well. "I can handle it, thanks."

"Really? Cause I'd be more than happy to."

He did a double take, watching the smirk widen and Richie's eyes twinkle. He couldn't tell how serious the blond was being, but if this was a joke, he'd SO kill the computer geek. "Well, then by all means." He stepped back as Rich stepped forward. He didn't mean to, it was just a reflex. Yet when Rich came closer again…

Another step, though, and his back was against the wall, and Richie was in his face. "Nervous, V?"

"Maybe a little." His voice did NOT just tremor! He was an accomplished thespian! His voice never failed during a performance. Huh, that was a rather poor choice of words.

"Don't worry, Virg." The light reflected off Richie's glasses as the man's voice took on a deep tone. "I'll take good care of ya. And then…why don't you forget the play, and I'll show you what OTHER uses this body paint has." The feral grin on Rich's face sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. The next thing he knew Richie was down by his waist and all thoughts of kings and hot pokers vanished from his mind.