Chapter Text
Airk sighed and leaned back against one of the weird, undulatingly organic shapes that passed for set design at Galladoorn Studios. He'd been ready to go for half an hour now... and the director-slash-cinematographer-slash-auteur was late.
He picked at the cuff of his baby blue sweater, wanting to yank on a loose thread and turn the whole thing back into a pile of yarn, wishing he dared to just walk off the set. Not because of the waiting, although that was getting annoying.
Never mind driving himself and all the outfits across the city, or letting himself into a practically deserted studio in the middle of the night; never mind doing his own hair and make-up, or the overly bright lights stabbing his eyes.
How many times had he been chewed out for being late to set, after endless fussing from wardrobe and make-up? It was to be expected if you wanted to model, and as long as they didn't throw anything he knew he was getting off easy.
Truth be told, he could usually charm them out of their sour mood before it got to that point. Well, he'd show this guy some grace, more than he'd been shown.
Supposedly he was an artistic genius, or at least the boss thought so. Insisted they needed his talents, which meant a commercial shot on actual film alongside the catalog shoot. The boss said it would feel high fashion and fresh, and help market their sweater line to a more upscale crowd.
Airk didn't know about all that, but he'd model the hell out of them anyway.
He couldn't remember the guy's name; he must be pretty far underground, which made how he got tapped for this shoot all the more mysterious. The business wasn't exactly huge, but it was on an upswing; why work with some no-name?
One who couldn't even be bothered to show up on time, at that...
The door to the studio flew open with a bang, and Airk flinched. He watched with bemusement as a younger man struggled into the room, carrying a duffel bag that nearly matched him in size. Airk waited for the supposed creative luminary to come through the door, but no one else followed.
Wait, is this...?
He turned his gaze back to the new arrival and frowned. The guy was a total mess: hair in wild disarray, shirt half-buttoned and crooked, dark circles around eyes that were staring a little too widely. He was twitchy and tense.
Ugh. Another cokehead. "Hello?" he said, cautiously.
The guy hadn't looked in his direction once, and he still didn't. Harried eyes flicked to somewhere about six feet left of Airk, and he grunted an acknowledgment. He got busy fumbling extremely old-fashioned looking cameras out of his bag, tweaking the lights, pursing his lips at the set and stroking his goatee, doing anything but actually looking at the one other human being in the room.
Finally, he picked up a camera and waved his hand at Airk in a clear 'get on with it' gesture.
Airk stood, smoothed his sweater, and glanced up. "Oh, hey, you didn't—"
"Oh no, you don't," he snapped, fixing him with a glare. "Every goddamn shoot I go on, the models think they know more about it than me."
He took a step toward Airk, voice raising in pitch. "I don't tell you how to strike a little pose, and I don't need your advice. Just stand there and look pretty, got it?"
Airk shuffled back, shocked by the blast wave of barely suppressed fury. He held up both hands placatingly. "Yeah, no, I'm sure that's super annoying. And I definitely don't know much about cameras—"
"Good, we agree. Now, do your job and let me do mine."
Airk felt his eyebrow threaten to disappear into his hairline.
He pressed his lips together.
"You got it," he said, and struck a little pose.
-----
Once they got started, the shoot went smoothly enough. The guy circled him, filming scenes and switching cameras to take quick still shots of every pose. He offered direction a few times, and while he was brusque his words weren't particularly rude.
He seemed less frazzled as they went on, maybe because he tended to run his hands through his hair between shots. It was looking more orderly now, though there was one persistent dark curl that wanted to fall in his face; he'd push it back, and it would spring forward again as soon as he moved. His dark eyes were searching and intense.
He's actually kind of attractive, Airk mused, throwing his arms back and tilting his head. Too bad about the personality...
"Okay," the photographer said, attempting to tame the wayward strand one more time. "I think we got this outfit. Go ahead and get set up for two."
Airk slowly rose from the amorphous blob he'd draped himself over. "Can I say something?"
The photographer rolled his eyes. "If you must."
"You didn't take off your lens caps."
The photographer held his gaze for a long beat, eyes drawing into a squint. "I did," he said, barely audible. "I must have."
He turned the camera around and stared down at it.
He was still staring a moment later when Airk cautiously approached him. "You, uh... you okay?"
"Ugh." The photographer furrowed his brow, letting his eyes fall shut. "Yeah, I'm good. Just really soaking in the magnitude of what a dumb asshole I am."
He opened his eyes and looked up at Airk. "Sorry. I'm doing this on like three hours of sleep and eight shots of espresso. Can we start over?"
"Sure." Airk chuckled. "I mean, we kind of have to."
The shorter man stared at him in disbelief, then smiled.
"Yeah, all right." He held out his hand. "I'm Graydon."
-----
The shoot went surprisingly well, after that: Graydon seemed to be making an effort to overcome his disastrous first impression: he gave positive feedback along with his instructions. Airk found himself preening under the attention, putting his heart into each pose and sequence.
Airk seduced the camera with every ounce of charisma he could muster, and he fancied the camera wasn't the only thing feeling the effects. Graydon was definitely making eye contact now; in fact, he was looking Airk over very thoroughly between shots, and when Airk winked at him — he actually blushed.
Cute. And maybe the personality isn't a total loss.
Nearly two hours later, Graydon stood up out of his customary crouch, and stretched.
"I think that's a wrap," he said, voice raspy. "We got through the shot list and I think we've got some good stuff here. The edit should be easy for the commercial, and your media team will have a lot of stills to choose from once I've got them developed."
He dipped his head and peered up at Airk, smiling a little. "You do good work. You really know your body."
Wait... is he actually flirting? Airk returned the smile, coyly.
Graydon abruptly looked away, shuffled his feet, and walked back over to his haphazard pile of equipment.
Or am I just all horned up from making love to the camera?
Airk usually couldn't wait to rush off set and change when the shoot was done, but despite the late hour he followed Graydon and kept the conversation going.
"How'd you end up doing this shoot?"
"Oh." Graydon looked up with a wry smile. "My dad, he went to school with the owner. I wasn't eager, no offense. Commercial work, catalog shoots... not really my thing. But my dad is... persuasive."
He tucked a camera into the bag, and reached for another.
"You do art photography more, right? Short films? Warren told me a little about your background. He was really excited to have you for this."
Graydon's smile blossomed into something more genuine. "Ah, yeah. I've been working on some stuff. Hoping to make a career out of that side of things. My dad..." He grimaced. "Well, you know how parents are."
Airk smiled. "Yeah, I really do."
As Graydon squatted down to pack up the rest of his gear, Airk sized him up: the inquisitive tilt of his head, his thoughtful gaze, the flex of his shoulders as he stowed his equipment.
He wondered if despite the hour, Graydon might be up for a drink.
Graydon stood back up and ran his hands through his hair one more time. Airk drew breath to ask—
"Airk, baby!"
A strident voice rang out behind him, and his heart jumped in his chest. What the fuck, how did she even know?
Impulsively, Airk stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Graydon, and slipped an arm around his waist.
"Do me a favor," he hissed into Graydon's startled face. "Pretend we're dating."