Chapter Text
“You should audition,” Elena told him as she stuffed a dumpling into her mouth. “How long has it been since you’ve done a show? It’ll be fun!”
So, it’s against his better judgement that Kip now finds himself filling out an audition form for the local community theatre production of Octopus. He’d managed to find a copy of the script at a used bookstore and devoured the one-act show in record time, immediately rereading it. He may have had reservations at first considering he hasn’t done a show in a while, but he really wants to do this one.
He passes his completed audition form and resume to the man sitting at the table outside the theatre entrance. He hopes that he’s not showing too many nerves since it’s been nearly three years since he’s been on stage. And that show had ended badly, souring his taste for the theatre since then. The man looks over the form and to his credit, doesn’t appear to judge the gap in his resume.
“What about a headshot?” he asks.
Kip blushes. He’d hoped it wasn’t necessary. “I don’t have one. It’s been a while.”
“No worries,” he says cheerfully. He pulls out his phone and instructs Kip to stand against the wall closest to the table. “This’ll be fine. They just want to remember you.” He snaps Kip’s picture, hits a few buttons, and a small device on the table next to him whirs to life and begins printing out Kip’s picture. When it’s finished, he staples the snapshot to his audition form and resume.
“You can have a seat inside,” he says. “It’s a standard cattle call.”
“Thanks.”
This is it, he thinks as he opens the door and enters the theatre. He’s been here before, so it’s not completely unfamiliar. He and Elena have seen a couple of shows in the space, but as he looks around now, he takes in his surroundings as an actor, not just a theatre goer.
The theatre is a standard utilitarian black box with four levels of raised seating at the back rather than sloped seating with vomitoria like one would find in a larger theatre. There are several sconces scattered on the walls, no doubt part of the house’s lighting plot. The stage is simply an empty space with black fabric suspended from pipes on the ceiling to separate the backstage area. There are no curtains to separate the stage from the audience.
Kip scopes out the seats and finds that there are about fifteen other men waiting to audition, which kind of surprises him considering the subject matter of the show: a younger gay couple have a hastily planned one night stand with an older couple, and have to deal with the fallout when one of them tests positive for HIV. He supposes he should be happy that there are men willing to tackle such a pitch black comedy.
With a cast of just five, he’s a little worried about his chances of being cast. He’s read the script six times over the weekend in preparation for this audition. He’s figured out the main conflict, the ruling idea, and given circumstances of the play. To say he wants a part in this show is an understatement. He’s not even fussed about which part he’s offered, although he’s leaning toward Blake. But really, he’ll accept any role. Even that of the soaking wet Telegram Delivery Boy. He’s had worse roles.
There’s a small table at the front of the audience where two men sit. Kip assumes they are the director and stage manager. The man out front is probably the producer.
But then he recognizes the back of one of the heads. Fuck me. It’s Scott fucking Hunter. He’s certain of it. He must be directing the show. Fuck.
Kip finds a spot and sits. It’s a few minutes before seven, so he’s got a moment or two to obsess over his audition and the fact that his ex-boyfriend is the director. He’s fucking thrilled they hadn’t wanted a prepared monologue because he’s not sure if he could remember his own damned name right now.
He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that Scott is directing this show. He is heavily involved with a number of local theatres. Kip hadn’t thought he’d been associated with this one, though in hindsight, that was probably a stupid assumption. Ass+U+Me. He begins to break out into a sweat and wonders if he can slip out without drawing any unwanted attention to himself.
He looks around the theatre and decides that leaving is the best course of action. He’ll tell the guy out front he remembered a conflict he forgot to list because he can’t work with his ex. That would just be insane. He’s about to make his getaway when the man from out front enters the theatre, bringing the audition forms with him.
Fuck.
He’s stuck now. He wasn’t quick enough to escape and grab his form and get the hell out of Dodge. Now he’s going to be forced to audition not just in front of, but for his ex. He slides down in the seat enough so that he can just barely see over the one in front of him.
“Thanks,” Scott says as he takes the stack away from him. “You hanging around?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says sitting just off to the side of Scott in the front row.
Kip knows the man has no idea that a shit show is about to happen, but he can’t help but feel that on some level that maybe he does. Which is stupid. And impossible. He’s never met the man before. But fuck, is this going to be awkward.
Scott shuffles through the audition forms and then stops. He turns around and looks up into the audience. “Kip?” He has the good sense to sound like he didn’t stomp the fuck out of Kip’s heart three years ago.
Kip sits up a little bit and waves awkwardly. “Hey, Scott.”
“Good to see you.”
“You, too.” Yeah, I bet you bastard.
Scott stands and welcomes the actors and introduces his stage manager, Carter Vaughn, and producer, Eric Bennett, the man from outside. He explains his audition process and why he requested a cold read rather than a prepared monologue. He lets the men know about the rehearsal schedule and what is expected of them if they are cast.
It’s incredibly intimate material as well as a demanding schedule that will take up most of Kip’s free time over the next month, and why is he even thinking he’s going to get cast? There’s no way Scott is going to work with him no matter how good or well-prepared he is. He sighs in resignation.
The evening progresses as expected. Various combinations of men step onto the stage and read from the script. Kip watches and thinks he may be better than some, not quite as good as others. I would’ve done that differently, he thinks when one man attempts what Kip thinks is just this side of melodrama. Definitely not what the script is about even if it is a black comedy.
“Kip?” Scott says, shaking him out of his head. “You want to read?”
Which is a stupid question because he’s fucking here isn’t he? Of course he wants to read. “Sure,” he says, trying to sound like he’s not about to jump out of his skin. He hopes he nails it. He stands and heads down to the table where Carter holds a script out for him. There are three other men still on the stage.
“Top of 11,” Carter says. “Read Kevin.”
Kip nods and opens his script.
✾✾✾
“I don’t know, Carter,” Scott whispers. “This isn’t exactly an easy script. We’ll be lucky if we can find five guys willing to do it.”
Scott and Carter sit at the audition table inside the theatre. It’s twenty minutes before the starting time, and they have exactly zero men in the theatre waiting to audition. Scott hopes they’re all outside filling out their audition forms.
“Which is exactly why Eric is letting you do it,” Carter replies. “He doesn’t think you’re going to get it cast.”
“He thinks I’m gonna fail.”
“He does.”
Great. That’s not what he wants to hear. Scott had approached Eric about producing Octopus almost a year ago, asking him to fit it into the theatre’s schedule, even if they put it up as a workshop rather than a full production. The play hit him that hard. While the drugs have gotten better over the years, Scott has still lost a number of friends to AIDS, and he wants to remind people that the fight is not over yet.
“We’re not going to fail. We will find a cast for this show, and we are going to do it justice.” His voice trembles with a bit of anger. He’s going to show Eric just how important this play is.
“Whatever you say, boss.”
It’s then that the theatre door opens and the first of the auditionees enter. Scott doesn’t turn around. He can’t bear it if there’s only one person coming in.
Carter, however, cranes his neck to check out their prospects. “There’s four - no, five coming in,” he whispers.
“Hey, look. We have a cast already,” Scott says mirthlessly. He hears the door close and he checks his notes again. He doesn’t need to, but he’s nervous. The door creaks open once more, and Carter tells him another three men have just come in. “Oh, thank god,” Scott says.
“Maybe they don’t know what the play is about,” Carter says.
“Would you stop disqualifying actors before we’ve even started?” He knows Carter is trying to lighten the mood, but Scott really is nervous about the whole affair. Another creak of the door lets him know more people have entered. Please be good, he thinks.
Scott stares at his script and underlines words with his pencil at random and immediately erases them. He glances at his watch. Five ‘til. The door creaks once more in what will be the last time. Carter tells him there are fifteen men that have shown up for auditions.
Finally, Eric enters bringing Scott the stack of audition sheets. He thanks him and rifles through them. His heart speeds up when he sees it.
Kip Grady.
No. That can’t be right. Kip wouldn’t be here. He couldn’t be here. Scott sucks in a breath, hoping Carter and Eric don’t notice he’s just broken out into a flop sweat. He stares at the picture Eric took in lieu of a headshot. Kip looks good. His hair is a bit longer than it was when they were together, and Scott idly thinks that it would be good for pulling.
Stop it, he thinks. That ship has sailed.
Scott turns and looks up into the audience. He scans for only a moment before spotting him. Kip is slouched so far down in his seat it looks like he’s trying to hide. And hell, maybe he is.
“Kip?”
“Hey, Scott.”
“Good to see you.”
“You, too.”
Well, as first conversations after three years go, it could’ve been worse.
Scott lingers a hair too long on Kip’s face and he wishes he could have done everything differently. Wishes that he hadn’t broken Kip’s heart. Wishes that he could have stayed. Wishes that…
“- get started?” Carter is asking him.
That shakes Scott out of his thoughts. Thoughts he has no right to be having. He mentally shifts gears into Director Mode and addresses the auditionees. He lets them know that the play is difficult, the subject matter not to everyone’s liking, that if they accept a part, they need to be comfortable with nudity.
His brain flashes back to Kip lying naked in their bed.
Not helping, he thinks as he closes his eyes, which doesn’t help. It just makes the image of Kip more clear. Fuck.
He lets the men know about the demanding rehearsal schedule, and that whoever is cast as Andy will likely have extra rehearsals for a three-page monologue that is required of the actor. He introduces Carter and Eric, who provide helpful waves from their seats.
He then dives into the auditions, calling actors up to read with each other as Carter hands them scripts. One actor up, one down. Two up, one down. He realizes he’s been actively avoiding calling Kip up to read. He needs to fix that.
“Kip? You want to read?”
“Sure,” he says, pushing himself up off the seat.
Scott can’t help but stare. The years have been good to Kip, there’s no denying it. The man is dressed in black boots and jeans with a soft grey t-shirt that is just this side of too tight. Scott can see his bicep flex as he takes the script from Carter.
“Top of 11. Read Kevin.”
“Kevin. Got it.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” Scott tells him.
“I don’t know, just...better that we try it together, right? Okay, okay, look. What if, what if we come up with some kind of signal? Like if either one of us wants to call it off when they’re here, so it won’t be obvious and we can get out of it.”
“What kind of signal?” his scene partner responds.
“Like a word, something we don’t usually say. And if things get scary and you start to feel uncomfortable, you can just say it and we’ll stop.”
“No matter what?”
“No matter what.”
The scene goes on for another page and a half, but Scott has already checked out. He’s staring at Kip. He’d almost forgotten what a good actor Kip is. He already knows he wants him in this show no matter the consequences.