Karl Urban and Dougray Scott (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dougray): sorting things out
2015-11-18 13:47karl_urban
karl_urbanplayers only. backdated to January 2015, in NYC, after Dougray breaks some news to Karl.
Dougray has kept to himself much of the day. He anticipated the stunning hangover lying in wait for Karl once he woke, and so he had water and painkillers ready at the bedside. He went out for a run early, so that he would be at hand if his Sir should wake and want anything. He has avoided preparing any food with strong smells. Although typically he works with music playing continuously, today he wore headphones so as not to disturb his lover. Now it's afternoon, and he eyes the closed bedroom door warily.
It's been a long time since Karl's put away as much as he put away last night and right now, as he wakes, every single bone and muscle in his body is reminding him of that fact, the inside of his head thumping like a fucking bass drum. Pushing up on his forearms, he reaches for the water and pills put out by his lover. Glances at the clock. Fuck. Thank god he had the day off today. Sitting up and stretching out his shoulders he swings his legs over the side of the bed and just sits there for a few minutes, assessing, before finally dragging himself into the shower. It takes longer than usual, but eventually he steps out of the bedroom in jeans and a tight blue t-shirt, his hair still damp, feeling like he's been run over by a Mack truck. "Hey."
"Hey." Dougray takes off his glasses and leans back in his chair. "How do you feel?"
"Like hell," Karl says, thunking himself down on the couch. He rubs his hands over his face and then looks at Dougray. "How are you?"
Dougray nods. "I'm well." His instinct is to serve Karl, help heal him in some way, but he doesn't want to get in too close when he's not sure whether he's wanted. "Can I get you anything? A drink? Rub your neck?"
"I could use some toast," Karl says, knowing he'll pay for it if he doesn't put something in his stomach.
"All right." Instantly Dougray gets to his feet and disappears into the kitchen. He's not about to give Karl dry toast, not even under these circumstances, but the layer of butter he spreads is thin. He puts the plate on a tray along with a mug of weak coffee, and carries it all out to his lover,
"Thanks." Karl takes the tray from Dougray and digs into the toast, his stomach still churning. "Sorry about last night," he says after a few bites.
Dougray quirks an eyebrow, bemused and wondering just what he's to say to that. "Ah, sure. Do you recall much of it?"
"Enough," Karl says with a small shrug, taking a drink from his mug. "I'm not sorry for what we decided," he's really not, regardless of if it makes him a selfish bastard, "but I should've handled it better."
The furrows on Dougray's brow deepen and he sits back on the couch kitty-corner, crossing his legs at the ankles and folding his arms across his chest. "You don't have to be 'One Take Urban' with me," he says quietly, referring to Karl's semi-legendary reputation on set. "You know that, don't you? I don't expect perfection from you, Karl. Just you." All of you. That, Dougray needs desperately.
"Well, you got me last night," Karl says, looking over at Dougray. "You got the selfish asshole me."
Dougray shrugs. "Good. I'll take you." His lips purse and he studies Karl's face for a long time. "I wouldn't mind a bit of clarification, though."
"Yeah? What's that?" Karl says, quickly finishing off his toast despite his stomach rolling with every bite.
"What... Why...?" Dougray reviews his words, the sound of his voice, and starts over. "We spoke a bit last night about this, about how your reaction surprised me. I suppose I hadn't expected you to be quite so upset. Which is your right, of course," he hurries to add. "But... could you clarify for me a bit about why?"
Karl blows out a breath, stares down at his hands, the mug he's holding. "I'm just sick of being alone," he says softly, finally.
Dougray blinks, baffled. "But y–" He cuts himself off, and thinks. The word "alone" has very specific connotations to him, which don't apply in this situation. But if Karl feels like... Daring to get close, he moves to sit on the sofa next to his lover. "Maybe you and Harry should get a second boy, eh?" he teases, knowing even as he says it that the joke will fall flat. He kisses Karl on the cheek. "We can work this out. Sort everyone's schedule better."
Karl nods, feeling like he still owes Dougray more of an explanation than he's given him. "You know my dad kicked me out when I was fourteen?"
Dougray nods. "I have, on more than one occasion, wondered aloud to Harry why we haven't gone yet and given him a good kick in the head."
That gets a small smile, but Karl forges on, "I had to learn not to depend on anyone else. Hell, I learned it even before I was kicked out."
Frowning in acknowledgement, Dougray unwraps one of Karl's hands from his coffee cup, then twines their fingers together. "That's a terrible thing. No one should ever be that alone in their life, much less a child." He raises his voice and continues before Karl can think of arguing. "And I don't give a shit how at fourteen you were acting like more of a man than plenty of grown-ups; you were still a child."
Karl nods. "Thing is, I kept on that way even after I met Harry. I fought against depending on anybody, opening myself up, but at the same time, anytime we had to be apart, I had someone in my bed. They didn't mean anything. They were just there to fill in the space he'd carved out in my life. The space I couldn't bear to have empty anymore." He blows out a breath, gives Dougray's hand a squeeze. "And then the space got bigger when you came along and you both could fill it, one of you stand in for the other, but with you both gone and me promising not to find random people to shove in there anymore..." he shrugs. "I can't do it. I don't want to be on my own. I let you both in so I could be with you, not so I'd see you half the year if even that."
Lifting their joined hands, Dougray brushes a kiss across Karl's knuckles. "We can sort through this. Step by step," he says quietly, "figure out if we need a permanent home base other than London, if there should be something more central, whether Harry feels strongly about doing so much directing in L.A. as he has been doing... But we can do that later. For right now," he murmurs, looking into Karl's eyes, "I'll make you a promise. One week, two weeks, three days...? What's the longest you think you can be alone on location without feeling like we've abandoned you? Whatever it is, I promise that's the absolute maximum time I'll be gone, and I'll always try to shorten it. You'll have me to come home to."
Hot tears prick the backs of Karl's eyes and he ducks his head a little, staring blindly at their joined hands. He's spent so long fighting this, fighting against confessing how he'd been feeling, fearing seeming too needy, too demanding, just... weak. It never occurred to him his lovers would be so quick to accept how he felt, what he needed.
After a moment Dougray realizes Karl isn't going to say anything in response, and it's really no big surprise; none of the three of them are notably effusive. Not when life strikes so close to the heart. "I love you and Harry," he says simply, resting his head back against the sofa, "with everything I am. Count on that."
Karl nods, no closer really to getting himself under control, the hangover weakening his defences even further. "I love you too," he murmurs, glancing at Dougray. "And thank you."
Dougray quirks a grin. "Don't thank me. I know that hurts," he teases, and props his feet up on the coffee table. "Want to watch a movie? Or do you need to rest, or...?"
"It doesn't hurt," Karl says, sighing and shaking his head, swatting Dougray lightly on the side of the leg. "It's just a lot to take in." And that's all he's going to say about that, settling back beside Dougray. "A movie sounds good. You got something in mind?"
"Hmm." Dougray purses his lips, then looks at his lover. "Aliens? Fuck, I had such a thing for Michael Biehn. Between that and Terminator, fuck me."
Karl chuckles. "So basically you want me to sit beside you while you lust after someone else?" he teases.
"I'd be just as happy watching Doom," Dougray tells him with a grin. "You've just gotta love hot men in sci-fi."
"That's true," Karl agrees happily, leaning in to kiss Dougray. "Aliens works for me."
[feedback welcome. comments screened.]
Dougray has kept to himself much of the day. He anticipated the stunning hangover lying in wait for Karl once he woke, and so he had water and painkillers ready at the bedside. He went out for a run early, so that he would be at hand if his Sir should wake and want anything. He has avoided preparing any food with strong smells. Although typically he works with music playing continuously, today he wore headphones so as not to disturb his lover. Now it's afternoon, and he eyes the closed bedroom door warily.
It's been a long time since Karl's put away as much as he put away last night and right now, as he wakes, every single bone and muscle in his body is reminding him of that fact, the inside of his head thumping like a fucking bass drum. Pushing up on his forearms, he reaches for the water and pills put out by his lover. Glances at the clock. Fuck. Thank god he had the day off today. Sitting up and stretching out his shoulders he swings his legs over the side of the bed and just sits there for a few minutes, assessing, before finally dragging himself into the shower. It takes longer than usual, but eventually he steps out of the bedroom in jeans and a tight blue t-shirt, his hair still damp, feeling like he's been run over by a Mack truck. "Hey."
"Hey." Dougray takes off his glasses and leans back in his chair. "How do you feel?"
"Like hell," Karl says, thunking himself down on the couch. He rubs his hands over his face and then looks at Dougray. "How are you?"
Dougray nods. "I'm well." His instinct is to serve Karl, help heal him in some way, but he doesn't want to get in too close when he's not sure whether he's wanted. "Can I get you anything? A drink? Rub your neck?"
"I could use some toast," Karl says, knowing he'll pay for it if he doesn't put something in his stomach.
"All right." Instantly Dougray gets to his feet and disappears into the kitchen. He's not about to give Karl dry toast, not even under these circumstances, but the layer of butter he spreads is thin. He puts the plate on a tray along with a mug of weak coffee, and carries it all out to his lover,
"Thanks." Karl takes the tray from Dougray and digs into the toast, his stomach still churning. "Sorry about last night," he says after a few bites.
Dougray quirks an eyebrow, bemused and wondering just what he's to say to that. "Ah, sure. Do you recall much of it?"
"Enough," Karl says with a small shrug, taking a drink from his mug. "I'm not sorry for what we decided," he's really not, regardless of if it makes him a selfish bastard, "but I should've handled it better."
The furrows on Dougray's brow deepen and he sits back on the couch kitty-corner, crossing his legs at the ankles and folding his arms across his chest. "You don't have to be 'One Take Urban' with me," he says quietly, referring to Karl's semi-legendary reputation on set. "You know that, don't you? I don't expect perfection from you, Karl. Just you." All of you. That, Dougray needs desperately.
"Well, you got me last night," Karl says, looking over at Dougray. "You got the selfish asshole me."
Dougray shrugs. "Good. I'll take you." His lips purse and he studies Karl's face for a long time. "I wouldn't mind a bit of clarification, though."
"Yeah? What's that?" Karl says, quickly finishing off his toast despite his stomach rolling with every bite.
"What... Why...?" Dougray reviews his words, the sound of his voice, and starts over. "We spoke a bit last night about this, about how your reaction surprised me. I suppose I hadn't expected you to be quite so upset. Which is your right, of course," he hurries to add. "But... could you clarify for me a bit about why?"
Karl blows out a breath, stares down at his hands, the mug he's holding. "I'm just sick of being alone," he says softly, finally.
Dougray blinks, baffled. "But y–" He cuts himself off, and thinks. The word "alone" has very specific connotations to him, which don't apply in this situation. But if Karl feels like... Daring to get close, he moves to sit on the sofa next to his lover. "Maybe you and Harry should get a second boy, eh?" he teases, knowing even as he says it that the joke will fall flat. He kisses Karl on the cheek. "We can work this out. Sort everyone's schedule better."
Karl nods, feeling like he still owes Dougray more of an explanation than he's given him. "You know my dad kicked me out when I was fourteen?"
Dougray nods. "I have, on more than one occasion, wondered aloud to Harry why we haven't gone yet and given him a good kick in the head."
That gets a small smile, but Karl forges on, "I had to learn not to depend on anyone else. Hell, I learned it even before I was kicked out."
Frowning in acknowledgement, Dougray unwraps one of Karl's hands from his coffee cup, then twines their fingers together. "That's a terrible thing. No one should ever be that alone in their life, much less a child." He raises his voice and continues before Karl can think of arguing. "And I don't give a shit how at fourteen you were acting like more of a man than plenty of grown-ups; you were still a child."
Karl nods. "Thing is, I kept on that way even after I met Harry. I fought against depending on anybody, opening myself up, but at the same time, anytime we had to be apart, I had someone in my bed. They didn't mean anything. They were just there to fill in the space he'd carved out in my life. The space I couldn't bear to have empty anymore." He blows out a breath, gives Dougray's hand a squeeze. "And then the space got bigger when you came along and you both could fill it, one of you stand in for the other, but with you both gone and me promising not to find random people to shove in there anymore..." he shrugs. "I can't do it. I don't want to be on my own. I let you both in so I could be with you, not so I'd see you half the year if even that."
Lifting their joined hands, Dougray brushes a kiss across Karl's knuckles. "We can sort through this. Step by step," he says quietly, "figure out if we need a permanent home base other than London, if there should be something more central, whether Harry feels strongly about doing so much directing in L.A. as he has been doing... But we can do that later. For right now," he murmurs, looking into Karl's eyes, "I'll make you a promise. One week, two weeks, three days...? What's the longest you think you can be alone on location without feeling like we've abandoned you? Whatever it is, I promise that's the absolute maximum time I'll be gone, and I'll always try to shorten it. You'll have me to come home to."
Hot tears prick the backs of Karl's eyes and he ducks his head a little, staring blindly at their joined hands. He's spent so long fighting this, fighting against confessing how he'd been feeling, fearing seeming too needy, too demanding, just... weak. It never occurred to him his lovers would be so quick to accept how he felt, what he needed.
After a moment Dougray realizes Karl isn't going to say anything in response, and it's really no big surprise; none of the three of them are notably effusive. Not when life strikes so close to the heart. "I love you and Harry," he says simply, resting his head back against the sofa, "with everything I am. Count on that."
Karl nods, no closer really to getting himself under control, the hangover weakening his defences even further. "I love you too," he murmurs, glancing at Dougray. "And thank you."
Dougray quirks a grin. "Don't thank me. I know that hurts," he teases, and props his feet up on the coffee table. "Want to watch a movie? Or do you need to rest, or...?"
"It doesn't hurt," Karl says, sighing and shaking his head, swatting Dougray lightly on the side of the leg. "It's just a lot to take in." And that's all he's going to say about that, settling back beside Dougray. "A movie sounds good. You got something in mind?"
"Hmm." Dougray purses his lips, then looks at his lover. "Aliens? Fuck, I had such a thing for Michael Biehn. Between that and Terminator, fuck me."
Karl chuckles. "So basically you want me to sit beside you while you lust after someone else?" he teases.
"I'd be just as happy watching Doom," Dougray tells him with a grin. "You've just gotta love hot men in sci-fi."
"That's true," Karl agrees happily, leaning in to kiss Dougray. "Aliens works for me."
[feedback welcome. comments screened.]
