Chapter Text
Niall hopes for the best but he doesn’t think anyone will reach his expectations. It’s when someone says they pulled strings and got a big name to audition that he perks up. The door opens and he straightens up, pretending to care. The pen hits the floor.
Richard is scrawnier than what he wants (needs). The wrong hairstyle, wrong beard, wrong outfit. Those are easy to remedy. As Richard reads through the lines, Niall squirms and covers himself.
By the time he leaves, Niall has left a wet palm print on the top sheet of the clipboard.
He watches the events roll past and play upon the popcorn ceiling. The real Ruben is in Scotland (which is just as good as dead). The new one is within reach. He traces the figment of Richard’s body, willing it to grow and fit Ruben. A body built from years of work, knotted shoulders and tattoos littered across pale skin, side by side with shared memories. It’s difficult imagining something as soft as kissing his tattoos.
Richard hasn’t even signed on yet. Who the fuck does he call to get this done?
Niall slips a hand beneath the covers. He doesn’t want to think about logistics right now.
It’s easy to ignore when others are around. The producers like him, the director is eager for the first table read, and the writer… The writer stares. It’s sweet at first, a gaze full of admiration. When his hand engulfs Niall’s and gives it a firm shake, things change in an instant. He hesitates to use the first word that comes to mind. ‘Penetrating’ is too apt.
Every encounter after is a struggle. How do you stay professional when you’re being eye-fucked from across the room? He’s conflicted, flattered, all of the above. He decides to stall as long as possible because he knows with a man like that, it’s not a matter of if but when.