Title: Fight

Title: Fight (Beware! RPS!) Part 7 of "Season 3"
Author: Janet F. Caires-Lesgold
Feedback to: jfc@freeshell.org
Archive: Mailing list archives only--others please ask permission!
Category: Romance, humor, Tom's side
Timeframe: During the filming of "Forsaken"
Rating: NC-17 for language and m/m sexual activity
Pairing: Michael/Tom
Summary: Somebody missed a memo

DISCLAIMER: This story is just for the entertainment of my online friends and myself, not for any profit. It is pure fantasy and does not intend to reflect on the actual behavior or personalities of the people named herein. Please do not sue me for my little bit of fun!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: "Season 3" is a multi-story arc of my Quantum Fics series, which can be found elsewhere on this archive - Enjoy!

AUTHOR'S NOTE #2: This story was inspired by a quote I've heard from an article about the making of the show, which I'm hoping was true!

DEDICATION: For Tiff, who hangs in there even when we disagree, and for Astrea, who asked for it (Happy birthday, a little late!).

Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without the express permission of the author. Thank you very much.

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Everybody is watching you. The camera is rolling as you berate your best friend (both onscreen and off) for letting your best girl leave the country without saying goodbye. You can feel the eyes of the crew on you and Michael, whose characters have been so close, but now are becoming slowly estranged. The tension in the room is thick and dark as a Tootsie Roll.

Once your accusations are on the table, Lex offers suggestions as to what may have happened, calming you down both as your character and as yourself. You know that they're supposed to be friends, but you're not sure if Clark loves Lex as explicitly as you love Michael. Whatever their situation, this falling-out upsets you a little--how easily they have come apart makes you want to rewrite their story so they can be happy together forever.

The scene ends, and the director calls "Cut! Hang tight, people!"

Knowing you can take your mark again in seconds, you bolt around the desk so you can touch Michael. He is used to your need to reach out to him, so opens his arms and hugs your hips. Standing next to his chair, you wrap your arms around him and hold his head against your stomach, being as careful of the makeup as you can.

"I'm sorry, baby," you murmur just loud enough for him to hear.

"You okay?" he asks softly, rubbing your back firmly.

"Yeah... I just hate it when we have to yell at each other..."

"We've got it," yells the director. "That's it for you guys till three o'clock. Thank you!"

A smattering of applause from the observers doesn't distract you from reconnecting with your lover, who stands up and holds you more securely. This scenario is practically old hat to the people on the soundstage, who barely glance your way as you lean down and kiss him warmly. They'll touch up his makeup later, so you don't work so hard at keeping your hands off of his beautiful head as you taste every inch of his tongue.

Somewhere nearby, there's a resounding crash and a loud "Oh, my God!" that distract you, causing you to break from his inviting lips and look up.

There at the edge of the set is Kristin, coffee spattered at her feet from a dented thermal mug that careers on the floor in front of her, and her eyes and mouth open wide in shock.

Michael's face wears a goofy combination of sheepishness and the potential to burst into riotous laughter any moment, but your first concern is Kristin. You move to her quickly, sidestepping to avoid the large pool of creamy brown liquid and snatching up her mug from the floor, wishing you could do the same with her jaw. She seems incapable of coherent speech at the moment, as you try to maneuver her out of the way of the set dresser's assistant, who has appeared with a mop and bucket.

Unaccompanied pronouns and sentence fragments hang from her mouth, so you jump into the conversational gap. "We were all supposed to rehearse our scene together when Michael and I got done filming, weren't we?"

She nods wordlessly, her gaze moving between you and Michael with an almost-comical look of puzzlement. Before she can ask any questions, he swoops in and suggests, "Let's hit my trailer and get to work. We can talk when we get there." He begins to steer you away with a hand on the small of your back, so you use the same gesture on your female companion, pausing at the caterer's table to refill her coffee.

Smiling pleasantly at the familiar faces in the lot, none of you speak of what just happened as you make your way to the Rosenbox. Once the door has shut you inside, though, Kristin starts peppering you with questions and gesticulating with nervous energy.

"What did I just see back there? What's going on? That wasn't real, was it?"

Michael nudges her to sit on the sofa, perching to her right side and persuading you with his eyes to do likewise on her left. "I'm sorry you got surprised, Kristin, but yes: that was for real."

"You're gay?" she asks, involving you both with a circle of her hand. Well, at least that part doesn't require explanation...

You take your best shot and cut to the chase. "Mike and I are lovers."

A very familiar frowny wrinkle mars her brow as she turns to face you. "But aren't you married?"

"Yes. This happened later."

"Does Jamie know?"

After a glance away to wonder what your wife is doing right now, and to decide that you really don't care, you turn back to your colleagues. "She's very understanding, for which I am extremely grateful."

The girl sits there in stunned silence for a moment. "Wow..." she exclaims at last. "I had no idea."

Michael lets out an amused exhalation, then asks, "You mean nobody ever told you?"

"No--why? Who else knows?"

He can't help himself--he starts snickering in spite of himself. "Just everybody!" Falling over on the arm of the sofa, he cackles loudly.

You try desperately to make your laughter inclusive rather than aimed at Kristin. "You were the only person who didn't know, I think..."

Luckily, she doesn't seem annoyed by your snorting. "Do you think nobody wanted to tell me? Was it some big secret that everybody was in on except for me?"

Throwing an arm around her to give her shoulders a squeeze, Mike proposes, "I'd imagine they figured you could tell."

Sheer exasperation shows in her expression. "What? It's not like it was obvious or anything!"

You and he exchange a look, then once again dissolve into hilarity. "That's not what Allison said!" he chortles.

Suddenly, it's as if a light comes on behind her eyes. "Ohhhhh!" she exclaims. "That's what she meant!"

"Huh?" you grunt, your merriment significantly diminished. "Meant when?"

"Oh, she was bragging about some bet she had with Sam about you two. I don't remember her exact words, but that must've been what she was on about..."

Mike seems similarly chastened by her comments. "Can you approximate what she said?"

With a wrinkle of her nose, she replies, "Oh, she just made some kind of squeaky noise in her throat..."

"Like this?" he offers, demonstrating a jokey imitation of creaking bedsprings.

"That's it! What does it mean?"

You try not to roll your eyes at her innocence, while Mike smirks and explains, "You know: mattress music?" When her expression doesn't change, he leans in and whispers into her ear. Without trying very hard, you can hear that his sentence ends with a clearly-enunciated "fuck".

Kristin's eyes fly open wide in sudden recognition, but much more entertained than the last time. "Oh, God!" she shrieks, collapsing against the back of the sofa in giggles.

He glances at you, embarrassment still evident on his face, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes warm you, and you lead him into another torrent of laughter. No words are spoken for many moments as you all enjoy the same joke together, and you don't mind that you and your boyfriend are the objects of that joke.

When it all has mostly died down, she stands up, dabbing away a tear before it rolls down her cheek. "Y'know what? I don't think I'm quite ready to rehearse now. Besides, with all that laughing, I really have to pee," she adds, her voice dropping out to an exaggerated whisper by the last word. "Why don't you guys come by my trailer in about an hour and we'll try that again?"

"Sounds good," you agree, with Michael nodding his approval. Before you can see her out, she bobs down and pecks each of you on the cheek.

"See you then!" she chirps, heading for the door. Pivoting back to you, she warns teasingly, "Don't do anything I... Oh, never mind!" then dashes down the steps and across the lot, still chuckling to herself.

You shut the door and lock it, pressing your forehead against it as you attempt to compose yourself a little. Very soon, a warm body leans on you from behind as Michael rests his chin on your shoulder and clutches you to him with one arm around your chest and one rubbing your stomach. "You wanted something?" you ask the eye next to yours, a smile sneaking around the corner of your mouth.

"We've got an hour. Fuck me," he purrs.

Turning in his arms, you answer, "How can I resist an offer like that?" then grasp his head gently between your hands and kiss him softly and slowly as his fingernails scratch your back roughly through your t-shirt. "Hey, wait," you interrupt. "This has to go back to wardrobe. Don't do anything to it."

"Okay, I won't," he promises, yanking it up at your waist and drawing it up over your shoulders and off of your head, letting you shake it off of your arms yourself. "Wanna see Clark Kent naked," he mutters, starting to walk backwards to the bed in the back of the trailer and dragging you with him by your belt buckle.

You stumble along behind him, unbuttoning his shirt as you walk. "So do you go along with the fans online who think that Clark and Lex are doing it?"

He stops suddenly and pulls you in for a kiss, then resumes tugging you down the hall. "Maybe not right now, but they were. Lex loves Clark with all his heart, you know." The backs of his legs bump against the mattress, so he stops his backwards steps and strips off his shirt, slacks, underwear, and shoes with nearly superhuman speed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he makes short work of your jeans, then scurries back to watch you untangle your boots from your pant legs, finish undressing, and join him. "Kinda like I love you," he adds, panting just a little.

Naked at last, you lunge onto the bed and onto Mike, snaking your arms around him at once and thrusting your tongue into his mouth like you own it. "Clark loves Lex, too," you murmur between kisses, realizing that it's true almost as the words fall from your tongue. "It kills me when they fight on camera. I want them to be able to have what we have."

His hands reach for your erection and stroke it tenderly. "I don't mind their fights," he begins enticingly.

"Why not?" you ask, grabbing supplies from a side table and putting them to use at once.

"Because we get to have all of their makeup sex!" he laughs, stifling his chuckle when your lubed fingers pry into his hot, dark hole.

The snug rubber feels good on your cock, but you need more NOW, so you waste no time positioning yourself between his legs and thrusting inside him in one motion. You sigh in unison at the sensation, holding oh so still until his feet rest on your ass, whereupon you glide out, then back in again. The heat surrounds you, joining you with this wonderful man like nothing else could.

"I love you, Mike," you say out loud, though you've been thinking it since you stepped on stage this morning. As you approach your climax, you look into his eyes, which are sleepy and aroused and focused entirely on you. Your hand jerks him perfectly, so that he comes first and you follow right behind, pulsing into him like falling from a high window, yet landing safely in his arms. The only eyes on you now are his, but he's the only audience you need.

THE END

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