GLITTER

Title: Like phantoms, like dreams
Author: Tesla
Features: DB, JM, SG
Rating: R (for language)
A/N: Set during the filming of "Into the Dark"

The usual fuck-ups on set, but all in all, not too bad a week's work. The crew were friendlier than "Buffy's" crew, cheerful despite the overtime. They were all pleased to be filming during the day. All of James' scenes were done, but they had taken pretty much all day, because the other guest actor kept missing his marks.

End of the day, and somehow his duster had been taken to David's trailer. James had to get it back, because heads would roll if the Spike drag went missing.

There was no star crap about this set, so James knocked, a quick tap, and stepped in. He didn't expect to see Seth, half-blocking his way, unwelcoming expression on his face.

The fuck?

"Hey, man. Came to get the duster."

Seth was already stepping back, expression changing. Now James saw what Seth had been shielding, Boreanaz lying flat on his back, on the floor, his knees drawn up.

"It's cool, Dave," Seth said. "It's James. He's cool." He sat down beside David.

It was just wrong to see big David on his back like that.

"Jeeze," James said, crouching beside Seth. "The wreck?"

"Yeah," David said, his face even paler without the makeup. "Hanging from those fucking chains. Thank God you hit all your lines."

"Muscle spasms," Seth explained. He put one hand on David's shoulder and gripped.

Sometimes lightning lit up a landscape like a strobe light, and you saw things that you had never noticed before in the plain light of day. Seth's hand looked small but familiar on David. Accustomed to being there.

Well, they had done a season and a half together. James had never seen the two of them at the same time, before.

James said, "You need to go get that checked, again."

"Can't. The budget's running over as it is, and Greenwalt will have a stroke if we have to shut down. Not with only a couple of shows..."

"Yeah, but what if you're really messed up?" Seth said.

"Nuh,uh."

"Good lawsuit material," James said. "You got rear-ended, right? The way insurance is, you'll probably have to sue--"

David was shaking his head, in tiny shakes, not wanting to move his neck. His huge square hands were palm up, and James had the oddest urge to take one and squeeze it in reassurance.

They sat there in silence for a moment, the only sounds the air conditioner and the radio, low murmurs of sports scores.

It was the tear track running from the corner of David's eye to his hair that did it. James turned to Seth. "Don't you have something? If he doesn't get relief, he won't be able to shoot the beach stuff tomorrow."

Maybe it wasn't cool to hint at the guy's rep for having primo weed, but fuck.

Seth nodded. "Yeah, you're right." Without moving from his place, he reached behind him for his leather backpack, and fished out the makings. He raised his eyebrow at James, and James nodded.

Hell, yeah, he was done for the day.

Seth fired up the joint, a fattie, and inhaled. He started to hand it to David, then changed his mind. Delicately, so as not to jostle David, he shotgunned his toke into David's mouth. David's fingers twitched, brushed Seth's knee.

After his second hit, James leaned forward. David's eyes were half-closed, and he opened his mouth to James' as easily as though they were lovers. James tried to be careful, not to lean on David, but he still couldn't resist putting one palm on his chest. David made a noise deep in his throat, and it was like some trashy novel, the sound really did go straight to James' dick. Their tongues touched and James felt a lot younger than he had in a while.

He sat up, coughed, and handed the joint back to Seth.

If it had been a novel, there would have been shucking of clothes and some hot threesome action, James thought later. Instead, he and Seth just smoked enough to get David good and stoned, until the tightness went out of his neck and shoulders and he was resting. James got the duster, and drove home with it, and then left it in the trunk until he remembered it, at three in the morning.

He thought Seth took David home, but he couldn't remember what they said they were doing. What Seth said, because David was smiling and humming to himself.

The next week, on set, James saw Seth at the crafts table.

"Hey. How did things go over at the other set? After I left?"

"Good, man," Seth said, as gravely as his alter ego. "Said for me to say thanks."

James uncapped a bottle of water. Seth still looked at him. "So, he's okay, then?"

"He's good." Seth shrugged. "Guess he's always good, man."

Which, James reflected, wasn't a bad thing for anyone to say about you, at the end of the day.

"Marsters! Green! New pages!" yelled an A.D.

James sighed, and held out his hand.

-End (Read the sequel)