Title: Double or Nothing
Warning: slash, RPS, language
Disclaimer: I make no money from this, or receive any kind of gift, not even offerings of food :-( I am just a poor writer with an insatiable love for Will/Sacha slash... please don't sue, I own nothing but a pair of smelly socks...
It started out as a joke, a joke that eventually got out of hand: one kiss, that’s all it was.
Adam said Will would never go through with it and bet him fifty bucks he wouldn’t. At first, Will told himself he was only doing it because he never passed up a challenge and the end result would’ve afforded a good laugh, and worse comes to worse then it was the booze making the decisions not Will Ferrell, he certainly didn’t care about a measly fifty bucks anyway.
“You’re on,” and he slapped another fifty into Adam’s palm to prove this point, “double or nothin’.”
“You’re on,” Adam closed the deal, pocketing the money, “Remember, no questions asked.”
No questions asked… no questions…
But enough time and beers passed for just that. Will had lots of questions he’d love to know, mainly stuff about Sacha or something pertaining to Sacha. He was fascinated by the British comedian and enough questions presented themselves that, by the time Sacha entered the scene, Will was having some serious second thoughts. That man was legendary for his role as Borat, and as his Austrian Nazi/journalist alter ego, Bruno; Will could’ve handled throwing himself at either man… no problem, because then he wouldn’t really be kissing Sacha.
Borat and Bruno were so obnoxiously hysterical and perverse it would have been easy to not think anything of sticking his tongue down either of their throats. It would have been fun, something to tell the interviewers, something to talk about… as a joke.
But no such luck…
The man that showed up in the audition room was not Borat nor Bruno and somehow, Will never expected Sacha to actually bring either of them, though he was wearing Ali G’s oversized yellow jacket, it was undoubtedly Sacha beneath that baseball cap and days worth of stubble, trying to hide the over publicized Borat from the public eye.
“Sorry,” said Sacha genuinely apologetic, removing the obnoxious jacket from his person, “My manager ran off with my real clothes again, this was all I had left…”
Will licked his lips, inwardly cursing his luck. He didn’t want to kiss Sacha by any means; not because Sacha was repellent or that Will didn’t like kissing men. On the contrary, off screen and on screen, Will was no spring chicken. He’d kissed tons of guys: Chris Kattan, Jim Carey, Ben Stiller and who could blame him? But some of the other ones: Artie Lang, Tom Green, Seann William Scott… what the fuck was he thinking?
But Sacha was no Artie Lang or Tom Green; Sacha was HOT as long as he wasn’t hiding behind ugly characters like Borat or Ali G, so what was the problem?
“Thanks again for calling me on the part, Will, I can’t tell you enough how grateful I’d be to do this with you.”
Will took two, giving himself a mental shake. He didn’t realize how incredibly rude he was being until he saw that Sacha was waiting to be granted access to sit down next to him. That was another thing that made this so difficult - Sacha was British. British+Jew divided by the square root of ‘dry humor’ = polite sophistication and quiet manners... Borat and Bruno were just outlets for his innately repressed emotions.
Will cleared his throat, finally taking his eyes off Sacha and tapping the stool set besides his. He didn’t realize he was sweating until his palms, slick with perspiration, slid off the leather fabric almost making him fall and hit his head.
“Are you alright?” Sacha crossed the room toward the proffered seat, watching Will closely, “You seem really… tense about something.”
Fuck it all, Will cursed himself hotly, fidgeting with his collar, when did it get so fucking hot in here anyway? Will stood up just as Sacha sat down and marched across the room to yank a window open. Making sure to hide his face from Sacha, he stopped long enough to glare heatedly at Adam standing in the corner, who merely smirked.
Don’t even say it, not one word… Will warned him with a look, knowing if Adam had more than 2% brain activity he was sure to receive the message with or without any clairvoyant powers.
“So, um… what exactly am I playing here?” Sacha said as soon as Will sat down again. He already seemed to sense that something was amiss, “I don’t know a thing about the script besides something to do with racecars and Talladega, I think.”
Will was beginning to wish he hadn’t drunk so many beers. Staring at Sacha’s lips, he said, “Well, about your character, Sacha, I gotta tell you something.”
Will gazed at him levelly, wanting to tell Sacha exactly how he'd written his character: a flaming gay French Formula 1 racecar driver named Jean Girard, to put it plain, designed to compliment his own on-screen character and – Will couldn’t resist the temptation – to kiss him toward the later half of the film. Will had written the script himself - along with Adam – and it was a wonder no one ever questioned some of the other things he’d written; his computer itself would be a goldmine for the Enquirer, some of it would even make the journalists lay off of Britney Spears (no pun intended).
“He’s uh… “ Will started, “… your character… he’s…” Say it, just say it! Will took a deep breath, inadvertently inhaling the soap perfuming Sacha’s body, “… French.”
Sacha blinked, clearly confused. It took all of Will’s strength not to slap himself in the face, someone had to… Adam coughed, making Will jump in his seat, why the hell was he there, anyway?
“French?” Sacha said, as though he hadn’t heard him properly, recovering quickly, he added, “Is that it? There’s nothing else, something important you needed to tell me?”
“Why?” Will felt like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Well, it just seemed kind of important, ya know… Êtes-vous sûr ?—“ Sacha laughed nervously, trying on the French.
“No, that’s it,” Will squeaked, scratching the tip of his nose. He didn’t notice that Sacha seemed a little disappointed.
Without missing a beat, Will launched into – more or less – what the movie was basically about, making sure to leave out any ‘unnecessary’ details. This proved incredibly difficult and Will had to cover a lot of ground, pausing in between every few words to double check what he was saying – the end result bore little resemblance to the original conception, even Will was disgusted to hear the bullshit coming out of his mouth. Sacha was staring at him dubiously, clearly not buying a word of it.
“Is everything all right, Will… I’m sensing something’s… wrong?”
This was looking really bad… Will swallowed, realizing how dry his mouth was, certain that Sacha could notice.
“Is there something wrong with my character?” said Sacha but steering this conversation toward Jean Girard right now would only make matters ten times worse. “Maybe I’m not quite what you had in mind – I can go, don’t be embarrassed—“
“No, no, no,” Will touched Sacha’s knee reassuringly, then jerked his hand away realizing what he’d done.
Sacha squared his shoulders, thinking about this. Eyes flitting restlessly around the room, Will noticed that Adam did indeed take a hint and was pretending to read the newspaper as though nothing weird was going on. Catching Will’s eye, Adam surreptitiously turned a page.
You’ve lost your mind after all, Will… he cursed himself silently… it's just a joke. Kissing poor unsuspecting Sacha on the lips so he could get his hundred back from Adam was not, in any sense of the word, an awkward task… at least, not supposed to be. For Christ’s sake, Will had more socially awkward moments with Chris Kattan while filming the Roxbury but given the opportunity he’d do it all again and he meant ALL of it… so what’s the fucking problem here!?
It was now or never…
“Don't go. Sacha, I have a confession to make,” said Will.
Will leant in confidentially, as though whatever he had to say needed to be said in the private vicinity of Sacha’s personal space. Sacha took the bait instantly, leaning in with him and tilting his head slightly to the side. If Will hadn’t known better he would have mistook the gesture for anything other than Sacha simply lending him an ear, but even so… it made the possibility of kissing him that much simpler. “Your uh… character, he’s…”
Will fell silent, staring at Sacha’s lips, certain he was being closely watched by the Brit, his actions scrutinized and dissected as easily as a dead science experiment. Will licked his lips, softening them with his saliva… he could almost taste Sacha’s mouth…
A car horn went off outside, the sound reverberating off the walls and effectively shattering his concentration. He straightened up so fast he nearly fell off the back of the chair.
A muscle in Sacha’s jaw twitched agitatedly, “God dammit Will, it’s just a fucking kiss—“ Sacha’s hand was on the nape his neck, pulling Will down again.
Will flinched, pulling away, “Wait, what are you doing?”
“Relieving some tension,” Sacha said, his steely British accent thick and husky with unreadable emotions, and before he could fully grasp what was happening, Will felt Sacha’s tongue lapping at his lips, gently prying an entrance into his mouth.
Will melted, wondering at his own body’s immediate surrender. In fact, the only member of his person that had a mind to rise up at that moment wouldn’t have been mistook as a sign of resistance. Encouraged, Sacha’s arms wound around him, pulling their bodies closer.
Sacha’s tongue threatened to devour Will’s and Will groaned with pleasure, the vibrations sure to travel down Sacha’s throat and encourage a similar excitement in his own body. Sacha slipped his knee in between Will’s thighs, applying the slightest pressure to an extremely sensitive area of his body. Groaning again, Will felt his knees buckle from the sheer gratification of this gesture until he was practically sitting in Sacha’s lap, leaning into the touch.
“So, do I get the job?” Sacha withdrew suddenly, breathless, “… Monsieur Bibby,” he threw in with a coy smile. Still situated in Sacha’s lap, Will looked down at him, stunned.
“You knew this whole time?” he demanded. Sacha gave Will’s thigh a little squeeze, making him dizzy. Will looked at Adam who had abandoned his newspaper and was now staring uncomfortably at them. “You told him…? I told you not to tell him…”
“I should just be going,” said Adam, dropping the paper and sidling toward the door, “You two obviously need some time—“
“Hey, where’s my money?” Will demanded. Adam turned around in the doorway.
“What’d’ya mean your money? Technically you didn’t follow through with the rules, did ya?” Will considered this, “Double or Nothing,” Adam added teasingly, waving the hundred at him before closing the door behind him.
That fucking bitch… thought Will, despite the fact that he was right. Will hadn’t followed through because, technically, Will didn’t kiss Sacha first. He looked down at Sacha who looked confused again.
“What are you—“ but Sacha fell silent, no longer able to speak with Will’s tongue in his mouth. Sacha didn’t have to know, and with Sacha’s hands on his ass it didn’t even seem important anyway.
In the end the joke was still perfectly sound. Even though Adam had gotten the last laugh, Will didn’t mind this time, not with Sacha’s hands exploring his ass, not when Will squeezed Sacha’s crotch and was rewarded by a loud groan that sent erotic shivers down his spine like an electric jolt… this was just a delightful, unexpected bonus.