SDV Harvey x farmer - Play Production AU
It never felt real until tonight.
You stare into your dressing room mirror, slowly rubbing off the layers of stage makeup. The too-thick blush, the eye makeup that a twentieth-century nun wouldn’t actually be caught dead in, the lipstick staining your lips a rosy red. The lightbulbs surrounding the mirror are too big, too bright, and it makes you feel exposed. Even though you just came off the stage, even though you just took your bows in front of all of Pelican Town and most of Grampleton.
As soon as you walked off stage, Emily ran up to you, beaming. “I think we should take the show on the road! Maybe we could find a venue in Castle Town or one of the burbs in Zuzu! I think we have real star potential here, especially with you and Harvey leading the cast,” she said, the post-show adrenaline pinking her cheeks. You glanced over and saw your co-star standing in the wings, still clad in Captain von Trapp’s traveling costume. He stood still among the swirling post-show chaos, looking at you a little too intently.
So you panicked and fled without so much as a smile at Emily. You’d have to apologize to her later.
You reach up and begin unfastening the pins holding the short blonde wig to your hair. You take deep breaths, feeling the air swirl in your lungs as you try to figure out exactly how to explain your slip-up to Harvey. You know he’ll be worried - he is your best friend, after all.
He only agreed to be in this production because Emily twisted his arm, but even you were surprised by how well the shy doctor had adapted to being on stage. When you asked him about it, he just shrugged and said he liked having a script. He worked hard to learn his lines and perfect his (admittedly a little stiff) dances, but the singing came effortlessly. It seemed like years of listening to old records of crooners has taught him a lot, and you never wanted to go back to a world without him singing next to you, whether with confidence on stage or under his breath as he washed dishes. His performance really was moving.
Even though you’ve removed the artificial blush from your face, heat rises to your cheeks as you think back to the Ländler. You scowl at yourself. Robin had teased you about kissing Harvey for the production, but pretending he was someone else was easy when you kissed him. In the end, it was the dance that knocked your knees out from under you - the prolonged proximity, the eye contact.
In rehearsals, it was easy to maintain emotional distance: you were Maria, and he was Captain von Trapp. No farmer, no doctor. You focused on your posture, on moving the right limb at the right moment, on falling into the easy three pattern of the waltz. It was all very sterile. Clinical. Safe.
But something had changed tonight. Something changed when you got in front of an audience, when you finally let go of the technical considerations and just let yourself feel.
At some point, Harvey’s arms (the Captain’s arms) were wrapped around you. One hand on your waist, the other meeting your hand above your head. You were inches apart, and you forgot. You forgot about the heat of the stage lights, the heavy makeup, the audience. You forgot that you were supposed to be Maria, and that he was Captain von Trapp.
For a moment, you were just the farmer. He was the town doctor. You had loved him for a long time, and unlike in real life (and just for this moment), he loved you back.
The problem, you knew, was that you usually planned every single movement on stage. You were a professional stage actor before switch careers, and you had learned what worked best for you. Improvisation wasn’t your strong point. Every gesture, every breath, every blink was carefully choreographed. Harvey knew this, had commented on your reliability with a smile during one of your post-rehearsal night caps. You had smiled back, basking in the careful attention he paid to you.
But on the stage, wrapped in his embrace and feeling the warmth of his broad chest through his dinner jacket, you forgot about your method.
Just for a moment, your gaze slipped down to his mouth. You inhaled more sharply than you ever had in rehearsal. Your lips parted ever so slightly, and you stepped mere centimeters closer to him. The steady 1-2-3 pattern of the dance stuttered for the briefest of moments.
You recovered quickly, of course. The audience didn’t notice a thing. You honestly doubted even Emily noticed, and as the director of the production she was intimately acquainted with each of your acting choices.
But Harvey noticed. By the time you returned your gaze to his eyes, his pupils had darkened. One of his eyebrows quirked up, and you inwardly groaned. There was nothing for it but to pretend like it didn’t happen.
You finished the dance and moved on with the scene, but the Captain’s profession of love right before “Something Good” felt… different. His dark gaze lingered a little longer than usual, his voice deepened. Like Harvey was trying to put more meaning in the line, trying to communicate with you, not just Maria. The kisses that Maria shared with the Captain felt less impersonal. Less careful. You shook off the feeling, chalking it up to wishful thinking.
As you took his hand during the curtain call, you felt him squeeze it a little more tightly than usual. You smiled at him, grateful that despite the strangeness of the performance, he was still the same steady, reliable friend who had given you an examination your first season in Pelican Town.
The cast migrated to the lobby to take pictures with fans. You struggled to stay focused on your own fans as you saw him kneel down on the rich carpeting to hug little kids and take pictures with his fans. You always loved interacting with fans after shows, but seeing Harvey do it made something shift inside your chest. Every now and then, he glanced over and smiled at you from across the room. You smiled back, and your heart beat faster every time.
Now, you’re back in your dressing room. You finally manage to remove the wig and change back into your street clothes, carefully hanging up your costumes in the process. There are two more shows to go, and they need to stay in pristine condition.
Just as you’re getting ready to leave, there’s a knock on the door. You open it, expecting to see Emily or maybe even Robin, but instead, Harvey is there, in his street clothes, clutching a bouquet of roses.
“These are for you,” he says with a smile. Bewildered, you take them, your eyes fluttering shut at their sweet scent. You’ve never had a co-star bring you flowers before. “You were transcendent.”
Your worries briefly forgotten, you open the door wider and invite him in. “Harvey, this is too sweet. Thank you.”
You place them on the table, then turn around to embrace him. It’s so easy to forget how tall he is, how broad his chest is, until you stand toe-to-toe. You smile into the rough fabric of his jacket. “You were amazing, too. I’d never have believed that that was your first time in front of an audience.” You step back, adjusting the lapels on his jacket and avoiding eye contact. He takes a deep breath, stretching the fabric under your fingers.
“Can we talk about what happened?” he asks.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” you say, turning abruptly and pulling out an empty vase that you always keep on hand at shows. You remove the plastic from the bouquet, hoping that by busying yourself, you won’t have to confront the reality of the situation. It’s not like you could stop yourself from falling in love with him, but you’re terrified that if he finds out, he’ll pity you. You couldn’t bear it if your friendship changes because of one moment of weakness.
He sighs. “Really? You didn’t notice anything off tonight?” You shake your head resolutely, then catch a glimpse of his crestfallen face in the mirror just before he turns as if to leave. When he speaks, his voice has a note of false cheer to it. “Ah. Well, sorry to bother, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You can’t bear the sad look on his face, the downward slump of his shoulders. “Wait,” you say. “Can you just… tell me what you think happened?”
“The dance. It was different, right?”
A bolt of ice-cold panic shoots through you. “I got a little carried away, I think,” you say airily, adjusting the roses in the vase. “A little too caught up in the moment.”
He pauses. All you can see is the back of him, but his hands slowly curl into fists. He suddenly turns to face you. “Please look at me,” he says softly, and you slowly turn around.
“I need to be honest with you,” he says. “I’m sorry if this makes the rest of the show awkward, or if our friendship suffers.” He takes a shuddering breath. “Playing Captain von Trapp has made me realize that I can take more control of my life. That sometimes, it takes courage to make your mark on the world - whether by rebelling against Nazis or by telling the truth to people you care about.”
He steps closer to you. You recognize the same set of his jaw that he uses when he plays the Captain. “The truth of it is that I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. And I didn’t think it could possibly be reciprocated until the Ländler. You didn’t follow your plan. Right?”
“I felt like I was dancing with you, not Maria. Like I was falling in love with you in front of all of those people.” He runs one hand through his hair, mussing it slightly.
“I wanted it to be real,” he says. One hand rises to cup your cheek, a thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. “Please tell me it was real,” he says softly, gazing into your eyes.
It is as though he has removed a stone from a dam somewhere within your chest. In the span of a second, the pressure builds and builds until the dam bursts into a thousand spiraling pieces, pieces of rock flying everywhere. The enormity of your love for the precious man, a secret reservoir deep within you, in front of you spills out. And suddenly, you can’t remember your fears anymore. All that matters is the truth.
“It was real,” you whisper. You reach up to cover his hand with your own, squeezing it gently. “It was real.”
And when he smiles, you swear it’s bigger and brighter than anything you’ve ever seen on a stage.
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