Work Text:
"Wait, wait, don't-"
Bruce let the door slam shut behind him, raising an eyebrow at Mark's groan of annoyance. "Mark, you've been out here for half an hour, what are you doing?"
The taller man flicked his spent cigarette to the ground and indicated to the door. “It’s locked from the inside,” he explained, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I couldn’t open it to get back inside.”
Bruce pulled at the doorknob, but like Mark said, it didn’t budge. “Why didn’t you just go back in through the front?”
“What, dressed like this?” Mark tugged at the fluffy pink jacket of the Cherie, the White Trash Girlfriend. In fact, he was still wearing the rest of the outfit, skirt and heels and all.
“Sure,” Bruce shrugged. “Why not? Why are you even still dressed like that?”
“The jacket’s surprisingly warm and I didn’t want to wait for my smoke,” Mark grumbled, tossing the long, blonde hair back over his shoulder.
“Well, come on, let’s just go in through the front.”
Bruce started to go down the alley, but Mark didn’t follow, not even moving from his spot. He sighed in annoyance, going back. “Mark, let’s go, come on, I’m freezing.”
The other man was looking down at the ground. If Bruce didn’t know any better he’d swear that Mark looked nervous. “I saw a bunch of guys near the entrance,” he explained quietly. “I thought I could wait them out, but they haven’t moved. They, um, they caught a glimpse of me and started saying some very… ungentlemanly things.”
“Oh. Okay,” Bruce said awkwardly, putting his hands in his pockets. Mark hit the door again, but still the door didn’t open. After a minute, the cold got to him again. “Mark, we’re just gonna have to walk around.”
“Bruce, I can’t,” Mark all but growled, folding his arms.
“Everyone’s seen you dressed like a girl,” Bruce reminded him, but Mark waved him off.
“Yeah, but I don’t think the bunch of guys offering to give me the fuck of a lifetime have seen our show,” Mark said quietly, finally looking at him. “And I’m not Dave, I don’t quite hold up on close inspection. And I don’t think they’d be happy about that.”
“Alright, well, unless you’ve got another way inside, I’ll just… have to be your knight in shining armor,” Bruce finished in Sue, the White Trash Boyfriend’s voice with a cocky grin. “C’mon, baby, let’s go.”
Not expecting that, Mark couldn’t help but let out a giggle in the girlfriend voice, his nerves easing up a little. “Oh, my brave protector,” he quoted, gently cupping Bruce’s cheeks, making the other man laugh and shove him a little.
“Shut up, just come on, and try to be as girly as you can.”
Not that Mark would have trouble with that, Bruce thought to himself as they went down the alley. Because in his opinion, while Dave was the prettiest, Mark embodied his characters in a way that… was almost uncanny. And there were some times… well, it definitely stirred something in him. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.
The two approached the end of the alley, Mark holding onto Bruce’s arm tightly. He knew it looked comical, the already tall Mark made even taller with his heels, towering over Bruce. It was part of the White Trash Couple joke, but now it seemed slightly more ridiculous out in the open. Mark strode easily in his heels, patting down the denim skirt of his costume like he was trying to get rid of wrinkles, but Bruce could feel the shaking of his other hand.
Bruce, for his part, tried to evoke some of Sue’s exuberant confidence as they finally left the alley. Just as Mark said, there was a handful of guys hanging out a little ways down the street on the corner, though not as far as would have been comfortable.
Mark reached down and took Bruce’s hand, squeezing it slightly as the men noticed and started to shout at them, though luckily keeping their distance, for now. Thankfully, they were at least not in the way of the door. Bruce squeezed it back; they were in this together, he tried to convey, and he heard Mark breathe a sigh of relief.
“Let’s go,” Bruce muttered, leading him away and to the front as the men’s words got a little clearer. “Just ignore them, uh, honey.”
“Hey sweetheart!” One whistled, and Mark winced as a lewd comment was made about his legs.
“He must be blind,” he said quietly, trying to not let his real voice be heard. “You’re the one with the best legs.”
Bruce laughed, barely able to keep himself from being too loud. Mark squeezed his hand, and he saw the appreciation in his eyes.
“C’mon, baby! You look like you need a real man,” another man shouted as they finally neared the studio door. “Ditch tiny and come have a drink with us!”
Bruce grit his teeth, and Mark felt both of their patience running out.
The second he grabbed the door handle, Mark suddenly bent down and pressed his mouth to Bruce’s, thrusting his other hand out to flip his middle finger out to the men. Time slowed as Mark kissed him hard, putting every ounce of himself into it, and Bruce could’ve sworn that he heard a barely audible moan. He didn’t have a chance to react before Mark was opening the door and practically shoving him through as the shouting got louder before being silenced by the turning of the lock.
“Oh my god,” Mark laughed, taking a breath of relief as Bruce tugged him along to the dressing room in the back of the studio, not letting go of his hand. He knew that the men weren’t going to be following them inside, but he couldn’t stop until he knew for certain. Mark’s heels clacked against the tile, and that just made him go faster.
It wasn’t the first time that they’d kissed, not in the slightest. Bruce told himself that what just happened was just another performance not unlike the other times, but he could still feel Mark’s lips against his, his strong hand against his cheek…
“I owe you one,” Mark said as they finally closed the door to the dressing room, kicking off those heels and flopping onto the sofa. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes, still smiling. Probably still freaked, Bruce figured. Not that he blamed the other man. “I really appreciate it, man.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Bruce muttered, sitting in one of the makeup chairs, unable to look away from his best friend. “Maybe we give it a few minutes before heading back out there, huh?”
For a couple more seconds, he watched Mark catch his breath. He really did look so hot, no matter how often Mark worried that he wasn’t quite pretty enough. Their makeup team was just really, really good, Bruce told himself as he admired the way Mark’s lipstick was slightly smeared over his pink blushed cheek. And Mark was just a great actor, he told himself, that’s why it felt so real when he’d kissed him. It was all these things and more that made him want to straddle-
Mark finally sat up just as Kevin came through the door, halfway through a sentence about a sketch they were doing the next day and not even seeming to notice that they’d both been missing for a while. Bruce finally looked away, turning to the makeup mirror to get his own off like that’d been the plan the whole time. What was he going to do? Besides not looking as Mark kept taking off the various layers of Cherie, reminding Bruce more and more of just exactly who he kissed. There was no pretending as he watched the jacket come off, showing not womanly curves but Mark's slim figure. He clenched his fist as the long, blonde wig was the next to go, where it had been sitting easily on Mark's straight brown hair that swooped over his forehead when it wasn't combed back correctly. Then the makeup, the eyelashes-
Kevin finally left, leaving the two of them alone again in the dressing room, and Bruce stood up to follow him so that he could let Mark get properly dressed.
“You wanna grab a drink?” Mark called out as his hand was on the door. “I figure I owe you one, for protecting me and all.”
“Sure,” Bruce called back. “I’ll meet you at the doors, okay?"
“Sounds good. And Bruce?”
He finally turned around, and saw Mark still standing on the other side of the room. It wasn’t a terribly big room, but he might as well have been on the other side of a football field. “Yeah, Mark?”
He opened his mouth slightly, and Bruce raised his eyebrow. They were both remembering what happened outside the door, he knew they were. Was it an act? For those losers outside, yes. For the show, definitely. But why now? Why were these thoughts coming to him now? Because they'd never done that outside of the stage? Because for a second, out in the open, he-
“Thank you.”
Bruce nodded, grateful for the interruption to his thoughts, smiling easily at his best friend. “I’ll see you out there, Mark. Hurry up, okay?”
Before they could say anything else, he ducked out the door and headed for the lobby to wait.