off the record
a little ivantill actors au drabble :)
“Well, that was painful to watch.”
Ivan ignored the voice, his gaze fixed on the back of Till’s head. His hair was plastered down to his neck, still sopping wet.
It was distracting, really. They should dry it before he got a cold.
…Maybe he should offer his blanket as thanks? Surely it wouldn’t be too weird. Right?
A scoff sounded from the spot next to him. “That poor sunbae has no idea what he got himself into.”
“Shouldn’t you be prepping for the next scene?” He finally tore his eyes away to glare at Luka.
“Unlike someone, I prepare before coming on set.” He looked as annoyingly perfect as ever. Hair and makeup probably got to him during one of their many… attempts.
Ivan felt his cheeks flush as he recalled how soft Till’s lips were. The slightly bitter taste of coffee that distracted him during every take lingered in his mouth. The coldness of the fake rain chased away by the heat between their bodies.
A sigh pulled him out of his thoughts. “Here, give this to him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Luka pressed something into his hand and walked away without a backward glance.
Not one for missed opportunities, Ivan set out to find his costar.
“Sunbae!”
Hearing a familiar voice, Till stopped in his tracks. His face was a mix of apprehension and fatigue. “Yeah? What’s up?”
“Um…! I just wanted to thank you for your advice. It was really helpful.” Ivan tried to give him a smile that almost immediately turned into a wince. “I also wanted to apologize. I’m still learning, so I’m grateful to have a sunbae like you.”
“Like I said, it’s no problem. We’ve all gotta start somewhere, right?”
The tired smile Till gave him felt like being shocked by a taser. There was a small bruise on his lower lip, a mark left by Ivan’s snaggletooth.
He redirected his eyes.
“A-anyway! Please have this.”
“…Lip balm?”
“For the um, wound.” He willed the heat in his face to retreat, only being partially successful.
“Oh.” Till touched his lips absentmindedly. “I didn’t know it left a mark.”
“And take this as well!”
Ivan shoved the pink and purple polka-dotted fabric into his costar’s hands.
“Huh? Isn’t this yours?”
“Please take it and rest well! I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold because of me!”
“…Pfft.”
He startled at the small puff of laughter that made its way out of Till’s mouth.
“Thanks. I’ll give it back next time.”
That…
“Great job.”
Ivan gripped his shirt.
His heart totally skipped a beat, didn’t it?
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Steve's got his hands on his hips, a scowl on his face, and Eddie's leaning in the door to the kitchen, arms crossed tight over his chest and glare directed at the table. The table with a neat stack of notebooks and pile of dice and clump of miniatures all standing in rows. The table where, yesterday, he had notebooks spread open, drawings and notes for different campaign ideas paired with miniatures and sets of dice, visual cues for the plans and stories.
"I just don't get why you're so upset," Steve bitches. "All I did was clean!"
Eddie rolls his eyes. "I'm upset because now I can't find any of my shit." It's a lot more growly than he intends, but it also sounds how he feels so he rolls with it.
Thump
"Not exactly sure how you could find any of it before," Steve gripes, ignoring the thumping noise from the living room. "Our table looked like a bomb had been dropped on it."
Thump
Steve ignored the thumping sound, so Eddie does, too, even though it's gotten closer and louder. "Oh, well excuuuuse me for having a system," he says, flinging his arms out, his volume increasing by the second. "I knew where everything was and how it all went together. Now I have to figure it all out again. You think you'd relate, the way the bathroom looks. But you don't see me moving your hair shit around, do you? So this? This was bullshit."
THUMP
Steve's eyes widen and he jerks back and Eddie knows he shouldn't have used that word, he knows, but he's just pissed enough not to care.
"Oh, that's bullshit? Really? You know what's actually bullshit? There was trash in that pile, Eddie. Literal, actual trash. On our kitchen table. And you couldn't be bothered to clean it up, so I did." And now Steve's tone has moved out of bitchy territory into something scathing, something a lot like actual anger, matching Eddie's volume.
It makes Eddie's hands start to shake, makes Steve's breath hitch in his throat because, sure, they've fought before, a little, sniping back and forth about something petty, but it's never been like this. Never to the point of actual yelling. This is starting to feel big and loud in a way their fights never have, and now there's fear laced through the anger, but it doesn't help, only makes everything worse and
THUMPTHUMPTHUMP
This time the thumping is right next to them and they can't ignore it and, in tandem, look down to the floor between them just in time to see Paul thump his back foot again and stare at them with an expression that, if there was just a little less tension between them right now, Eddie would laughingly tell Steve looks exactly like his bitchy babysitter face.
They glance back at each other, then down to their rabbit again, who thumps his foot once more, still glaring up at them
"...I guess someone doesn't like that we're fighting," Eddie says, arms still tight across his chest.
"Yeah," Steve huffs. There's a beat of silence. Then he sighs, his shoulders lowering, running a hand through his hair. "I don't like it, either." His voice is barely more than a whisper.
Eddie bites his lip, dropping his arms a little. "Same," he admits, voice just as soft.
They stand there for a minute, the quiet ringing between them, all the fight draining from their bodies, before Steve steps closer, plucks at the hem of Eddie's shirt, as if he wants to touch but isn't sure it would be welcome.
"I'm sorry, Eds. I shouldn't have moved your things. I was frustrated with the food wrappers and cans on the table and instead of talking to you, I just got mad. You're right, I should understand. The bathroom sink is always a mess, but everything is right where I want it, and you never touch any of it but if you did I'd probably -"
"Hey," Eddie interrupts, gentle, tucking a strand of hair behind Steve's ear, cupping his cheek. "I'm sorry, too. I let it build up really badly and I shouldn't be leaving trash out like that."
Steve leans into the touch with a soft sound, lets his hands rise to circle Eddie's waist, leans their foreheads together. "Still. I should have talked to you."
"Yeah," Eddie agrees, but presses a kiss to Steve's forehead because they're talking now and it's gonna be okay and now they know a little bit more. And he wraps his arms tight around Steve's back, tugs him in close.
"I promise I won't move your things anymore. I'll clean around them. And I'll talk to you if something frustrates me," Steve says into Eddie's neck, nuzzling his face into the warmth there, his arms sliding around Eddie's waist.
Eddie tucks a hand into Steve's hair, runs the strands through his fingers. "And I'll be better about throwing the wrappers and cans away so it doesn't get so bad in the first place."
For a long moment, they simply stand, wrapped up in each other, in soft hands and gentle kisses and forgiveness. Then a thought occurs to Eddie and he pulls back just far enough to peer down at Paul, who is now happily flopped against their feet.
"Hey, Stevie... did our rabbit just bully us into communicating like actual adults?"
"...I think he did, yeah," he giggles and after everything, all Eddie wants is to taste Steve's laughter, to feel it in his own mouth, so he leans in for a kiss, grins against Steve's lips.
"Guess we're lucky he's such a smart little bastard, then," he smirks, never more grateful for that day at the petshop than he is right now as they swallow each other's laughter like water after a drought.
---
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7
ao3: And Rabbit Makes Three
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