Chapter Text
They don’t meet, official introduction and all the trimmings, until the production party in late August. It’s not a modest event by all means but it is small scaled, set in the private room of a hotel that is unassuming enough not to alert the media. With the public interest in Interview at an all-time high, it would be too easy for the paparazzi to sniff that there’s something going on and latch onto the trail like bloodhounds. Production isn’t quite ready to release any more information to the public yet, so the whole affair is being kept secret. With its high white ceilings and walls covered in beau blue velvet wallpaper, the room is packed by the time he makes it to the venue. It’s John who finds him first, on his way to the open bar.
“Bill! It’s great to see you. When did you get here?”
“Just now. I gotta ask, did you even check the forecast before throwing this party?”
Almost 88°F that very same morning, the humidity is clinging onto New York with a vice-like grip. The dampness sticks to Bill's skin, the thin layers of his white cotton shirt and black suit slacks not providing much relief. Not exactly what he'd call dressed to impress these days; but these people are going to see him before and after makeup, grimy and bloody and sweaty and all manners of unwashed in between. He’s always preferred the work, the acting to make a good impression anyway.
John chuckles and turns to the barman to order, Martini for himself, ‘whatever he’s having’ for William. But Bill is currently distracted because he’s spotted the person who’s going to be his co-star. The guy - Huh, funny – is on the left-end side of the bar, gobbling down a handful of peanuts while chatting with two women. Young looking, but not enough to get ID-checked at the liquor store. A charming smile on his face, unafraid to share his personal space with his conversation partners. Bill observes him for a few seconds, his ear lent to John, though he’s watching the stranger quaff a whole glass in one go like it’s nothing. He files that information for later, unsure when and if it would ever come in handy.
John laughs at what may have been his own joke, and it grabs Bill’s attention again. He gets his drink from the counter and when he turns back around, the stranger isn’t there anymore, and Bill is not about to offend John by getting distracted a second time. Yeah okay, they are kind of friends in the way show-biz people are all on friendly terms, but that’s still his boss. No reason to start this project on a bad note.
After a bunch of pleasantries and a few more rounds of drinks, comes the time for the perfunctory cast introduction. The production gets on a little stage in the middle of the room, calling their names one by one. Guy is called first obviously, that’s his show after all. Nicholas. William wonders if he’s going to prefer being called Nick, if he’s the type to drop formalities once a certain familiarity kicks in.
Nick nods his head at the round of applause, shyly, though it’s clear on his face he’s excited to be part of the show. Then in order of relevance, Elizabeth, Celine, then himself. When it’s his turn, he’s a little thankful John decides to introduce him as Bill, makes things easier for when he’ll be chatting away with the crew and won't have to remind them Bill's the word. He smiles at the crowd, spotting a handful of familiar faces (Jason, Kate from casting, someone from costumes he’s pretty sure is called Elisa or Elaine), but it's the ones he doesn’t know that make the most curious faces. Namely, the pointed stare of Nicholas-slash-Nick, hands clapping along with the others, his blue eyes on Bill a little unsettling, entirely too big to be just a consequence of the alcohol in his system. Bill averts his own, accepting the applause with a big smile, the way he’s grown used to whenever he’s in the spotlight. There won’t be much of this, once filming kicks in and it will take at least another year for the press tour to begin.
When it's all said and done, Bill finds Nick (yeah, he’s just gonna go with that for now) with his eyes still trained on him, sipping a yellow drink from a double cocktail glass. He waves with his hand, which is funny but also kind of cute. The kid is probably the same age as one of his sons, and an equally thick mop of curly hair on his head. Nick says something to the people he had been talking with, excusing himself through the crowd until they are face to face.
“Hey. Bill, right? So nice to finally meet you.”
Bill takes the hand extended in his direction, a little sweaty, but firm in his own. “Likewise, Nicholas. Nick? Is it okay if I call you Nick?”
“Yeah, everyone calls me Nick except for my mom.” Nick laughs, perhaps drunker than Bill had originally thought. No big deal, he probably doesn’t know many people in the room and it wouldn’t be too surprising if that natural charm he seemed to possess was fueled by a good dose of liquid courage.
“So, how are you finding it over here? Settled in yet?” Whatever is left of Nick’s drink swirls at the bottom of his glass, thick and foamy. Bill can smell pineapple and something sour in the air when the other speaks.
“Kind of. They’ve set me up in a place in Brooklyn until we move to Manchester. Haven’t really thought about my own crib yet.”
“Whereabouts in Brooklyn?”
“Bushwick. You know the area?”
“You kidding me? I live in Glendale, that’s a fifteen-minute drive.” Nick’s face seems to brighten up at that, his whole body shifting forward with it. The kid has no concept of personal space, clearly. Maybe it’s just that he’s young and attractive and aware of his looks, or maybe it’s that him and Bill seem to click straight away. Someone in casting must have done their due diligence here.
“That’s great. Maybe I could keep the apartment when we’re done filming. It would be nice to know someone in the city.” Bill smiles, nods, gives Nick a gentle pat on his back twice. Yeah, he likes him. They’re going to have a great time on set, this much he's certain of.
“Sure. Nothing like a seasoned local to show you around town.” The smile Nick answers with is beaming, though his gaze is cast downwards, to the tip of his shoes. A mix of bashful and humble, face flushed and hair a mess. Bill feels like ruffling them with his hand, then decides against it. No more drinks for him tonight.
They laugh some more, talk about New York, about Nick’s family back in Australia and Bill’s career, and all the roles Nick has watched him play throughout the years. It’s easy, a little flattering too. Other cast members join their conversation, greetings are exchanged, alongside expectations they have for the show. The mood is great and they're all looking forward to being on set, everyone ready to shine in their respective roles. Later that night, on his way back home, Bill finds himself thinking filming can’t start soon enough.
The table read is a quick affair, just a rundown of their scenes episode by episode that takes them two days and copious amounts of coffee. John and Mark make it clear they want an authentic performance and the actors are free to add their flair to the characters, as long as they stay on script. A few days later the whole production moves to Manchester, which they find wet, grey and perfectly weathered for a spy series filled with immortal perils. The accent is a little hard to get used to but the locals are funny as heck, and welcoming too. With none of his scenes taking place in New York, Bill doesn’t get to shoot until their second week in England. It gives him plenty of time to read through the script, to ponder over this character he’s going to be wearing for the next four months. The vampire Jasper. A creature shrouded in mystery, his backstory unclear, his actions speaking louder than words. He’s pragmatic, resolute, and with a one-track mind focused on this book he’s been looking for. Peculiar that they’d choose him, New York born and bred, to interpret a Texan cowboy-coded vampire with Bolivian origins. Going against the grain of the goth, weeping, melancholic immortal, so to speak.
Intense is the first word that comes to Bill’s mind in regards to Jasper. In the very first two minutes of the first episode, a woman throws herself in front of a train – a woman he was tailing to kill, presumably – and he just shrugs at the sight, like it’s only a minor inconvenience. Now he has to rethink his plans, wait for Helen’s move. Jasper knows she’ll send another agent, so he’s strategizing in the meantime, finding ways to get what he wants using the Motherhouse's resources. Jasper possesses a confident, almost arrogant attitude that Bill understands because of his age and career, made more pronounced in the character by the long span of immortal life in front of him. Yeah, Bill is going to play the heck out of this Jasper, why not. Wearing fangs and sharp nails, being all mean and scary and shit? Sounds fun.
Bill and Jonathan film their scenes first, which goes without a hitch, with Bill and the carpet covered in fake blood and John lying on the couch, chest slashed open. It’s good fun, all in all, even when he curses out the men rolling him out of the room in an undignified carpet burrito, Jasper's venom and rage multiplied tenfold.
He’s still got red staining his fake nails when a paper cup enters his vision.
“Thought you could use the caffeine kick.” It’s Nick, bundled up in an oversized green jacket. Mindful, caring. A good kid through and through.
“Thanks, man. I thought they paid someone to get coffee for us?”
“Yeah, I just felt like going for a walk, that’s all. Long day?” He finds an empty chair not far from where Bill is sitting and pulls it over, balancing his own cup with the other hand.
“You bet.”
Nick smiles, all dimples and teeth, making himself comfortable with one leg crossed over the other. It’s a good expression on him. Even more impressive that he’s playing this sort of broody, wet kitten type of character who doesn’t seem to have much luck going for himself. Then again, the kid too is an actor. He wasn’t chosen for the role for nothing.
Bill has been perhaps looking at Nick a little too intently, a little too long. By the time he shakes himself from his reverie, Nick is giving him a puzzled look, a little red in the face. Cute, that word at the edges of Bill’s mind. His gaze remains mostly neutral, but there’s a curiosity there, a new born need to crack the dude’s mind open and figure out what goes on behind those blue eyes. Yeah, that’s just a little character bleed, he thinks. It’s happened before, it will surely happen again. Nothing concerning, really.
“You, uhm, is your coffee okay?”
Is your coffee okay? What kind of question is that? But he isn't going to embarrass Nick any further. He must feel nervous, Bill thinks. Nick has a few tense scenes coming up, finding Keves dead and Archie just about to spurt blood and die. Performance jitters can be a real pain in the ass.
“Black coffee’s great, thanks. My treat next time.” He doesn’t really overthink it when he stands up and ruffles Nick’s hair on his way out, though the pink creeping up the other’s neck is not missed on him, or the way his eyes soften at the hand in his hair. Uh, odd.
On his way he passes the camera crew all huddled together in a corner, rewatching Nick’s latest scenes on the cameras' small screens. The gals and guys don’t mind him joining in, so he stays for a while, out of sheer curiosity.
He’s good, that’s his first thought. The setup is the interview at Cavitt’s, the moment in which the young man who hears voices and pops benzos like candy is gone, in a monologue that shows off just how good his character is at fooling others, and fool himself too in the process. The swagger, the perfect delivery, the magnetism the other people in the room suddenly feel for Guy. He sees why Jasper would be intrigued: a newbie spy who lies through his teeth but sprinkles enough real facts in there to make it sound like the truth? The perfect challenge, the right enigma to crack. The ace in the sleeve Jasper had been waiting for.
The next scene is of Guy looking at a picture of his mother, all teary-eyed and full of hope. The close-up shot is a nice touch; Guy appears younger, eyes wet and sad and that expression of helplessness suiting him perfectly. Nick too seems to have taken on the role entirely, just the right amount of sadness and pity on his face that’s bound to make the audience sympathize with this kid thrown into circumstances bigger than himself. The big, blue eyes are going to be a killer selling point. Bill stares into them a little longer than necessary, equally pulled in the way he imagines the audience will be. He can see the talent, raw and unpolished but evidently there. Dave gives him a side look, perhaps looking for reassurance, but Bill has only overseen production once, back when he had directed Cold Brook so he can only guess the quality of their work, certainly not with a more discerning eye than the people who do this day in, day out. He nods to Dave, and that seems enough to make him happy.
They move onto another scene, the one where Jason/Burton leaves a significant clue for Guy, which Guy sees as a dream he’s abruptly woken up from at the sight of fangs. Nick’s half naked body fills the right side of the screen, his steps tentative while approaching the swivel chair. A very specific filming choice here, to only show part of Guy’s body without including his face, just his long limbs and the chair with the open book on it. The focus should by all means be on the book itself, yet Bill is drawn to the long, milky expanse of legs on the opposite side of the shot, a gentle play of warm light reflecting on them. It must be at least fifteen seconds of just that: Guy standing in front of the chair looking down in…terror? Confusion? Something that’s been left off camera for the viewer to wonder. What Dave does instead is loop the scene back and watch it again (something technical there about checking Nick's position), which means Bill has a second, longer chance to look at those limbs and the whole ensemble, a white tee and black boxers, a body that is lean but pleasantly filled in all areas. Pleasantly, he may have to circle back to. Does it even count as leering when Nick is an adult over thirty? No, perhaps that is exactly the reason why he feels like it is leering.
He leaves the crew to their work shortly after, telling them to keep up the good work. When he crosses the threshold of his changing room he’s still mentally replaying that scene in his head, the intimacy of it, shadows and lights colliding on Nick’s – Guy’s – skin. He tells himself that’s because he’s gauging what the public will get to see, too. Nothing more, nothing less.
The first scene he and Nick get to shoot together is strategically placed at the end of episode three. At this point, Jasper’s motives are still unclear enough to catch the audience’s interest, while Guy has had enough emotional turmoil to be seen as the unfortunate protagonist who's desperately looking to belong. Bill imagines this too will be a selling point, not unfamiliar with the way fans take the canon events of a franchise and mold them to their preference long after the end of the production itself, immortalizing it, keeping it alive beyond its natural end.
Eva, the director for this block of episodes, is adamant on how she wants the scene to go: Guy has to be confident, self-assured, until he realizes Jasper is a very real threat. By then it’s already too late for him to go back. Jasper needs to appear pleasant, well disposed, until the very last minute when he corners Guy and forces him to stay at the Motherhouse overnight. They stage the scene with their scripts still laying around, MUA dotting powder on Bill’s skin, the lights making the set unbearably hot. At least he’s not alone in his suffering; Nick looks just about ready to dunk his head in a bucket full of iced water.
The bit with Jonathan has been filmed separately, so when the cameras roll, it’s for him and Nick only. Nick doesn’t look up when the action starts and Bill enters the room, most of the bravado he had put on display ten seconds earlier drained out of him. Bill, now Jasper, is a perfect picture of terrifying calm, walking in like he owns the place (which he kind of does at the moment). Guy, not Nick, looks at him now and his eyes are wet, the look of a dog, or a gazelle facing a lion. Bill doesn’t have to feign interest in that face; he really is curious to see where Nick will take the role, what’s his angle on Guy’s actions and motives. Those eyes never leave him while Bill paces back and forth, says his lines, lines are said back to him. Calculated, but sounding natural, like Guy is improvising as he goes which works well enough. Enough to interest Jasper, not enough to make him trust this kid. And Jasper already knows who Guy is, knows what kind of ability he possesses, wants to use him in the capacity that will get him what he wants. So Jasper plays the fool, even if his face is impressed that Guy is just opening up to him, word after word, laying it all bare on the table. Take it or leave it.
“So, do I have your attention?”
You sure do, Bill would like to say back, foregoing the script. Unfortunately, Jasper would probably just shrug and think something along the lines of, The fucking audacity, or, Somebody's gotta put this brat in his place. Better keep both thoughts to himself, get a gist of Guy’s real intentions before deciding whether he’s worth keeping around and for what purpose.
Eva shouts cut and they both take a breather, crew immediately fussing around them with drinks and brushes. Bill leans with his hip on the chair Nick is sitting on, peering down. Nick looks up at the same time, the fearful expression gone, replaced by his smile. Bill finds himself wanting to put his hand through curls and shake that grin off. Is this what youngsters nowadays call cute aggression? He's been experiencing a lot of that lately, whenever Nick is around.
“Someone’s having fun.”
“I’m having a blast.” And yet, something strange in his eyes. Something he’s not saying, though Bill can’t read minds like vampires. Now that’s an ability that could be useful in real life.
“But…?” he pries, tilting his head. Nick looks almost bashful, weighing his words.
“You, uh, are strange when you’re Jasper.” Huh. Did not expect that one.
“How so?”
Nick leans back in the armchair, thanking the MUA who’s just finished applying more setting spray on his face. He spends a few seconds in contemplation, worrying his bottom lip between thumb and index fingers. Bill is distracted by the motion only for a moment, then his gaze snaps back to blue eyes once Nick starts to talk.
“It’s like, you’re you, you know? Caring and polite and sweet Bill, and then you’re not.”
“That’s a lot of compliments, kid. Why, I’m an actor. I’m sure you share that feeling.”
That gets another chuckle out of Nick, though this time his jaw trembles a little, and Bill can’t avoid noting that down. Eyes averting his gaze, pose a little less natural, almost shy. He’s really pushing it on the whole Guy thing, isn’t he? Bill won’t tell him it’s working as intended (yet).
“Not a kid. You do know I’m almost thirty-three, right?” Bill snorts.
“Just a puppy in my eyes.”
It slips against his better judgement, because it’s the truth, but even Bill realizes it sounds a little condescending. Nick is a grown man, even if his international career is only now starting to properly take off. A little rude of him to call him a kid, and he’s ready to apologize for it, but. But.
Nick’s face is anything but offended. There’s a quick inhale of air sucked through his closed mouth, opening slightly, a flash of white teeth. Another shiver, more pronounced this time. His whole body moves with it, eyes wide, as if he’s shaking off a husk. Bill looks, then looks some more. Trying to put a name on Nick’s reaction that would be ethically sanctioned by HR. Doesn’t manage to before Nick has an answer at the ready.
“You don’t get to call Guy that until episode five.” But Bill is stuck on that reaction, chases it with an intention that is as foreign to him as the reaction itself.
“Well, it’s not Guy I’m calling a puppy, is it?”
Those eyes are zeroed in on him, unblinking, throat holding its breath. It’s insane really, that such a small thing only gets Bill further worked up. He has half a mind to fluff up the kid’s hair again, perhaps pull a little harder this time, just to see if there’s a different reaction there, a new expression he can pull out of Nick. A prelude to their basement scene, just earlier than planned. He would look pretty with tears in his eyes, undecided between pain and pleasure.
The whiplash from that last thought is enough to reel Bill back from whatever fantasy he’d been wandering into. His hand is already leaning towards Nick’s head, though he catches himself just in time before… what? What was he planning to do, exactly?
Eva’s voice breaks the spell, their attention back on set, though Bill’s eyes don’t wander too far. They steal glances at Nick, his face, looking around the room a little lost, a little dazed – anywhere but towards Bill. The reaction isn’t lost on him, finding its way into that 'Nick drawer' in his mind that has been slowly filling up in the last few weeks. Once they're back in front of the cameras, Nick acts the rest of the scene flawlessly, slipping back into Guy’s role easily, as if he'd done this a thousand times before. And Jasper seems convinced as soon as he hears about the book, enough to listen to the rest of Guy’s spiel before deciding he’s staying the night, not leaving the poor boy with any say on the matter.
“Stay.” The line sounds a little too much like a command, particularly after their earlier interaction. If Nick catches onto it, it doesn't show on his face. He just chuckles, insisting that he’s gonna go, but the door of Owen’s office is slammed closed and that's the end of it. He’s cornered, a prey who willingly walked into the predator’s den.
“You and I could have some fun together, after all.” It all comes together perfectly in one single, smooth take. Nick does not linger when the agency calls it a wrap, though he’s as polite as ever when thanking Bill and bidding him goodnight. Bill has the courtesy not to question him further, but he has a feeling that something’s afoot. He just can’t pinpoint exactly what that is, too preoccupied with his own thoughts on the subject at hand walking straight out the door.