Chapter Text
The photoshoot’s technically supposed to be simple. They’ve done a thousand of them. It’s just that this one’s got sorta more weight to it; ‘cause it’s the one that’ll be distributed when it-
All happens.
When it happens. The elephant in the room for seven bloody years; and yeah, at some point in the future he’ll accidentally let it slip during an interview that he’s been angling for this ever since he caught Ryan’s eye across the season two table read and went huuuuuuh, but that’s for another day.
The photoshoot. For it. For the relationship. For the thing. Fuck.
They’ve not even kissed yet, but they’ve done the solo shoots, done the interviews, the damn thing’s ended up on Jeopardy for fuck’s sake and he’s- well. Would it be embarrassing to suggest that he’s nervous about it?
(Nervous excited, but also nervous nervous.)
Oliver needs to get over himself.
He takes a few deep breaths, takes the dogs to the sitter, and tries almost as hard as he can to stop spiralling.
It mostly works.
Buck and Eddie, they’ve been a long time coming. An insanely long time, actually, Oliver thinks, kinda irritated, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. If they were a straight couple they would be on their second or third kid by now, but instead they spent five years dealing with a hot-and-cold Fox and then two more rebuilding what had been lost in the switch-over. He’s mad about it, as much as he can publicly be, because it isn’t fair.
(That’s all this is about. Fairness.)
It isn’t fair, and it’s homophobic. (That too.) He parks outside the photographer’s studio, takes a moment to get over himself once again - it mostly works - and then steps inside.
The photographer’s talented, and nice, but not overly demonstrative. He’s worked with him before, and so has Ryan. The anxiety still hangs a little in his stomach, though, it soon evaporates once Ben taps him on the shoulder and leads him through the ideas he’s got for the shoot. The network needs certain things, he wants certain other things, it’s a flurry of ideas and fortunately Oliver’s even got some of his own - though he doesn’t get quite enough time to look over Ben’s gear as much as he’d like before he’s pulled into a dressing room and-
Ryan’s there, smiling gently at him, Anna, their makeup consultant brushing concealer under his eyes. “Gonna get this show on the road or nerd out over camera equipment all day?”
“Piss off.” Oliver says, and pulls the fingers at him, before he slumps down into a nearby chair. “Just ‘cause I have hobbies.”
“I have hobbies.”
“Mhmm?” He replies, but there’s nothing in it at all. “What’s the vibe, man? How’s things?”
“Not too enthused by the concept of having tens of thousands of rabid fans on our backs if we fuck this up.” Ryan says, a wry glimmer in his eye. “But other than that, doing great.”
“You’ve gotta get off Twitter, man.”
“Says Mr Secret Account.”
“Yeah but they’ll never know that xobucksblueeyesxo is me.”
Anna shifts, giggling under her breath, and he shoots her a look that’s only a little sincere. “If you tell anyone my secret Twitter username they’ll never believe you.”
She mock salutes him with one finger and says, “I’ll never tell the fangirls. Pain of death.”
“Good.”
She goes back to dabbing concealer along the dip around Ryan’s nose. He looks zen and pretty as he sits there, eyes closed, head tilted back, like he has no other concern in the world.
“You have your full name out there. They can tag you into dumb shit every single day. Can’t be good for the ego.”
“Sometimes it is.” Ryan says, and says nothing at all more until his face is finished. He doesn’t really need the makeup, though Oliver knows why it needs to happen. Smooth out the edges, make the light catch in all the right spots. But he doesn’t need it all the same.
Anna pulls a little product through his hair, nothing major, until it’s slightly more put together, but nothing intense. It’s laid back, more gentle. Fuck, has he missed seeing Ryan like this. Eddie’s buttoned-up El Paso era was hell to behold.
“Okay, get up.” Anna says, prodding Ryan in the shoulder. “No sleeping. Oliver’s turn.”
“But he doesn’t need it.” Ryan says, which is very nice of him, and doesn’t even open his eyes.
“I gotta do something about those eyebrows.”
His eyebrows? He likes his eyebrows. “Hey.”
Anna fixes him with an unimpressed look and says, “I know you’re both beautiful, but your eyebrows are unruly, Oli. Makeup time.” She prods Ryan again with her thumb.
Ryan shifts, reluctantly opening his eyes with a sigh, and lets him have the chair.
This has been such a long time coming that it’s incredible that the day is actually here.
The theme of the shoot is professional but intimate - since they’re playing themselves and the characters, bleeding the lines between them both for imagery that can be shipped out to various places for various things.
Oliver figures it’ll be something similar to the work they’ve been doing with the intimacy coordinator; close in and lots of holds and embraces, stuff like that. He means it when he tells the press that this sort of thing is the same regardless of what gender he’s doing it with; but then again, he’s never been hugely picky about whatever gender he’s actually doing it with, either.
It feels…
Like a lot, really. It feels like a privilege to get to tell this story, even if it’s not prestige television, whatever whatever whatever.
If he’s honest… it feels like something he’s been waiting for all his life.
Several sets of clothes are ready to go out in the studio. He rubs his thumb along a rose-coloured cardigan and sighs. Yeah. Lots of emotions. Lots of things to think about.
His eyes widen even further as he spots the natural wood bed in one corner of the studio. There’s assorted backdrops, lots of metal furniture, but yeah - the bed’s a little unexpected. Not as though they’ve not been staging things similarly with the IC but… it’s a bit different here when there’s a bunch of studio and production staff wandering around, not just them and the IC and various feelings.
Fuck. This is weird, right? It’s kinda weird. He’s not freaking out, but it is kinda weird.
“We’ll start with the easier ones and work our way up to that.” Ben says, stepping neatly around him and towards the door out to the balcony. “Get into outfit #1, yeah?”
Ryan joins him as he’s peering at himself in the mirror.
The patterned shirt fits incredibly well, and so do the jeans. Eugh. As usual, he wishes a bit that he could have tailoring like this in his real life.
Ryan’s patterned shirt is a warm off-maroon with interstitial florals printed across it, and it fits him well too, tucked in as it is to a pair of light-wash jeans. He looks… well- hot as fuck, honestly. The jeans are tight around his ass and thighs and it’s not quite slutty but it’s not not slutty and -”This is outfit one?” He says, faintly.
“You are staring .” Ryan replies, and slips a hand up his back to the nape of his neck. “Hold still while I get your collar.”
He smoothes it down while Oliver shudders a little under his hand and well- yeah. He’s totally fucked.
It’s actually a fairly reasonable crush, if you think about it. Ryan’s handsome, he’s funny, they've been in and out of each other's existence for so long now that it makes sense, really. An outsider would agree. Maybe. But his skin feels hot and he still finds it hard to breathe when Ryan finishes, swiping his fingers across the back of his neck.
There's an intimacy now that there didn't used to be. Perhaps it's due to the onscreen work, the years and years together finally coming to a head.
He doesn't know.