Chapter Text
It shouldn’t have happened. I guess this is what they mean when they say you can’t hide things from your fiancée. That you no longer only exist in the singular. That you have to be a unit.
Adam was just too damn perceptive. They never had trust issues before. They didn’t check each other’s phones at night. They shared a car. Shared locations. Texted when plans got changed. The usual.
One phone call. That’s all it takes. Now he couldn’t look Adam in the eyes as he sat with his cellphone on the dining room table. Poised. Disappointed. Lied to. Yeah it’s my fault.
“Look, I didn’t think you’d ever find out ok,” John sighed as he paced the room. He never felt so out of place in his own house.
“Well obviously I did,” Adam replied. He had relaxed a bit since the confrontation.
“Adam this is stupid, come on. Please just let it go. Hmm? It’s nothing. It’s so dumb. Right? It’s not important. Please.”
Adam smiled. Clearly enjoying the upper hand right now.
“It’s been four years. Why don’t you have her number saved? I had to find out after answering an unknown number that wouldn’t stop calling you. I never expected it to be your agent.”
“That’s because I don’t want to answer her. What else could she be calling me for but more work? I’m retired. We have a nice life here. Try to understand.”
“She said they sent you a copy of the script. And you didn’t show me?”
“I thought they would kill the project if I said no. Wait what did you tell her?”
“That I would have to talk about it with you.”
“Great! Yes! We can say no. Right?”
“Peace Walker,” Adam rolled the name on his tongue, “and there’s a new main character. Kazuhira Miller. He’s supposed to be your second in command. Which is weird because didn’t you have a Master Miller in the first film? I wonder if it’s connected somehow.” He trailed off, putting possibilities together.
“You want me to do it, huh?”
John smiled back at him. He just seemed so damn happy like this. What’s one more film?
“Why haven’t they called you? I mean, it’s the 1970s. Ocelot should be what, 25? He’s still young.”
“I’m busy. And they didn’t write me in at all,” he seemed somewhat disappointed, “I’m supposed to be doing spy stuff between the US and the Soviets off-screen. This is Snake’s story.”
“Ok. I guess that’s why I have a new guy. We run some private military thing in the jungle. I can’t remember if we’re fighting the Soviets. I think we are.”
“So you did read it.”
“I skimmed.”
Adam leaned forward and put his chin in his hands. He was doing that face. That smile.
“You really want me to do it, don’t you?” John signed.
Adam usually got what he wanted.
***
L.A. looked the same as ever. If anything it just felt hotter. The weather was well over any enjoyable summer temperature. Heat practically radiated off the sidewalk. But the driver picked him up without issues and he was on his way to the studio for the first day cast meeting. He couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. The last one of these he went to, his future husband was in attendance, not they either of them knew it at the time.
He was so put-out that day, too. Think of the fans, they told him. Well now he had one particular fan to think of, twisting the engagement ring on his left hand. He was doing it for him. It felt more motivating. He even broke protocol and left a copy of the script with Adam. John trusted him not to leak it, obviously. It was a small perk.
“Excuse me, sir. But are you really John Sears?” The driver asked. “I was told to pick you up, but it just feels so surreal. There you are, in my backseat.”
“Yep. Here I am.” John gestured to himself.
“What have you been up to? Is it another film?”
“What else is there to do in Hollywood?”
They laughed, somewhat awkwardly, in recognition.
“Well whatever it is, I’ll be looking forward to it. I love your Metal Gear stuff.”
“Thanks.“
He was embarrassed. Happy, but embarrassed. He spun his ring again. The one Adam had made. Apparently, the engravings meant something. To John, they just felt nice under the pads of his fingers.
When they arrived, he made the usual rounds. He didn’t know many of the production staff this time. He greeted the ones he did, a sound designer and his fight choreographer, and introduced himself to the ones he didn’t. He saw a young man he didn’t recognize with a small crowd gathered around him. He was tall, handsome, and carried himself like a leading man. He was dressed similar to John, in sweats and a tank top, and his bleach-blonde hair was pushed back with a wavy wire headband. He had a sort of effortless style and the charisma to match.
In a moment, their eyes met. John offered a half wave. The man politely excused himself from his circle and jogged over.
“You’re John Sears,” he said enthusiastically, “I’m Benedict McDonnel. Well, just call me Ben.”
He extended his hand. John took it.
“I saw you on those Spam cans” Ben smiled. “Original flavor too. The best one, aside from Maple, of course.”
“I’m not too familiar with it.”
“You’re not? We gotta fix that. Spam is one of the best things to come out of the 20th century. I’ll bring you some musubi later.”
And with that he was off. Back to his chatter on the other side of the room. John took his seat on the metal folding chairs feeling slightly left out and a bit old.
***
Life without John was always slow. It was boring. It felt like waiting in a line for something that wasn’t moving at all. Adam was busy, sure, he was always busy. Always planning something. Another magazine shoot, eight performances a week, going through familiar choreographed movements, playing roles, training at the studio, keeping his skills sharp. Then, coming home, sleeping restlessly, waking up alone, feeding the dogs, walking them himself, scheduling with his agent, cooking lunch, preparing to do the evenings all over again.
But today, a blip. A surprising change in routine. John was calling him. He was supposed to be in L.A. for four days at least. It was barely 36 hours later. Let’s see if it’s almost 4 here, it’s around noon over there.
“Calling me at lunch again. This is nostalgic.” Adam answered.
“Yep. We’re taking a break. I got a few minutes.”
“How’s the meeting going? L.A. must be nice this time of year.”
“No, it’s hot as Hell. Not the best. But yeah, it’s going good.” There was feedback on John’s end now, like he was switching the phone between hands. “So, I met Kazuhira Miller, he’s nice.”
“Really? What’s he look like?”
“He’s some actor named Ben. Ben McDonnel? He was in that series last year. The one with the special ops guy that got really popular.”
“Wait that guy? The one based off the spy novels?”
“Yeah.”
Adam went quiet for a moment. It can’t be? Anyone but him.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I just have to look something up.”
“Alright well, I’m sure we’ll get to know each other pretty well. We have half the script together.” John joked.
“I’m sure you will.”
They stayed on the phone the rest of his break. 15 minutes. Then John had to go and Adam took the dogs out one last time before immediately looking Ben up. Fuck. He was right. It was the actor he was thinking of. He remembered the story breaking last year. Ben McDonnel had been sleeping with his married make-up artist on set. They were caught by the paparazzi sneaking around. Apparently he even brought her to his hotel and they had sex in the pool after hours. Gross. The staff couldn’t clean it enough. He also had a sex tape floating around out there, because of course he did, with men and women, which miraculously, didn’t hurt his career in the slightest. If anything it probably made him more famous. And of course, John didn’t know about any of this.
He shouldn’t feel this way. It was stupid. This was beneath him. There was nothing to be jealous over. John was simply getting friendly with his costar. An attractive, charismatic, openly bisexual costar. With a history of sleeping around on set, including with one half of a married couple. Adam had two saving graces. One, John knew he was currently engaged. And two, John was pretty oblivious to sexual advances when he wasn’t expecting them. But could he trust John enough to say no? He had to.