Thumbs on his lower back, pressing, rotating, either side of his spine. It felt amazing. He was bent, part-way through his roll-down. Arms loose, hanging to the floor. Blood in his temples. He didn’t know who was touching him. It was far from the first time shit like this had happened. Actors were touchy. Sometimes they just needed a reminder.
Lor rolled up, bouncing his shoulders. Determined to finish his warm-up. “Excuse me?” He caught the man in the studio mirror before really seeing him. Shit.
He recognized him, of course. There had been chemistry reads. But, seeing him sweaty, hair loose, he looked like his poster. Alistair Rodriguez. Except for the ratty t-shirt. First transman to headline a Marvel movie.
Alistair looked at his hands, as if they had surprised him. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t ask at all, did I?” he laughed, seeming mortified. Tucked his hair behind his ear. The tip was flushing. His ear. The tip of his ear was flushing.
“No,” Lor Melnyk said. “Is that something I should be prepared for?” he kept his voice in Viktor’s register. It was a little lower than his natural speaking voice. He had done his vocal warm-ups in the apartment.
Palms out, supplicating. “No. I will absolutely be a professional, from here on out. Consent. I’m a big supporter of consent. Supporter doesn’t seem like the right word. I do consent? Is consent something you do?”
Continuing, speaking faster, “And I don’t, I’m, this isn’t how I want to be conducting myself. It isn’t how I usually conduct, not that it matters. Impact, not intent. I’m so sorry. I’m a nervous talker. Did I say that?” Hands together in prayer. “If there’s anything I can do? Anything.”
Lor frowned. “Well, my ass was in the air. I see the appeal.”
Rodriguez’s eyes widened.
Lor smiled, slowly, licking the corner of his lip. Patted Alistair’s bicep. “I’m fucking with you.”
“Oh,” exhaled. “Good.” Ran his hand through his hair, the motion lifting his shirt. The muscles above his hips were also like his poster. “Actually, wait. That’s not good.”
“Did you get Jinx’s gift basket?” Lor asked, lunging into another stretch. He wasn’t differently-abled like his character, but he had an ablation surgery on his right leg which caused him to favour it. Needed to spend extra time on his hips.
Alistair laughed again. “Yes,” he said. Looked around the studio, conspiratorial. “Did yours have glitter?”
Kat (Jinx) had insisted that she was ‘going method’ and wanted to be called by her character name. Lor nodded. “Glitter bomb. I threw out my shirt.”
“It got in my mouth. I think it’s still in me.”
A few of the other actors had also asked to be referred to by their character names. Lor supposed in solidarity with Jinx. He thought it was a little silly. But he did too many silly things himself to complain.
He stuck his hand out. “I know we’ve met. But, officially, Lor Melnyk.” Behind him, Vi and Vander were casually harmonizing. Musical theatre brats. They sounded like angels.
Alistair shook it. His fingers warm. “Al. I won’t make you call me Jayce,” he said.
“Do you want to be called Jayce?” He raised his eyebrows.
“No,” held the handshake too long. Withdrew, ears flushing, embarrassed again. It was a cute look on him. “Worked too hard for this name.” Grinned to soften the blow.
———————————————————————
“So, when does your character fall in love?” Al asked. He was wearing glasses, writing in ballpoint pen on his script. The pen was madness.
Lor was already erasing one of his action-verbs, back against the studio mirror-wall. “Love?” he asked, not looking up.
He rolled his script, using it to gesture like a wand. The paper was impossibly tattered, Lor wondered what the hell Alistair had been doing with it. “I’m playing it, like the first seed is.” Al mimed grabbing something. Looked at him, hurt. Micro-expressions flitting across his face, “I don’t even know your name.”
“That early?” Lor asked. Lor was a hypocrite.
His glasses were perilously close to the end of his nose. “Yeah. It’s, Jayce is choosing to live. He’s going to kill himself. And he chooses not to.”
He paced around the sprung floor of the studio barefoot. “At first, the scene, it’s because Viktor’s the first person to listen to him, make him feel heard. Not crazy. It’s all this rush of emotion and decision. But, when it’s all over, and he picks up his wrist-thing. Bracelet? I don’t know what to call it. He’s like, I need to know who this man is in front of me. Who is he?”
Al finished his circling, squatting in front of Lor. Staring at him with hazel-brown eyes. Slid his glasses up the smallest amount. “This man, he’s not just a pretty face. I’m sure he has a name or something.”
Lor pushed Alistair’s glasses the rest of the way up his nose. “Or something.”
“Hey, consent!” he yelped, rolling back on his heels, one hand behind him so he didn’t tip over.
“I think we’re even now.”
Al scooched his butt across the floor, so he was beside him, back to the mirror. “I’m almost positive that’s not how it works.”
“And I don’t think you need those glasses.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I think you wear them because they make you look cute.”
He whipped off the spectacles like he was in a Bond movie. “You’re wrong.” Squinted. “I’m blind.” Put the glasses back on, poking his cheek. Lor wasn’t sure if the poke was for effect. “I was expecting you to say your line.”
Melnyk erased another action verb. “Are we running it?”
Read more (a03 link)
(If you'd be so kind as to hand me a delicious kudos over on a03 it makes my fic look sexier to new readers)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Headcannon: whenever jayce and viktor are working in the lab together they absolutely blast trans™ music and get the fuck down to it and then heimerdinger or mel come in and then immedietly change it to like maroon 5 or something, which they switch back to trans™ music again as soon as they leave
i spent like an hour on this so i introduce to you!! (not all, probably missing a couple) my trans headcannons!! sexuality included if not het (which is all but two lmao) enjoy, im gonna go to bed now goodnight <3
