The stage light fire seems like a sign from the heavens and the smell of rubber stings Adam’s nose. Adam shoots Shane a tense look before the two of them are springing out of their chairs. Onstage, Kyle is yelling and trying to put the fire out with the shirt he’s quickly ripped off. This seems to only make it worse, and Cynthia drags him away, pushing him toward where the rest of the actors are filing out. The smoke alarm has only just begun ringing and Violet is shouting at everyone to get out of the auditorium, hair waving wildly and phone to her ear.

Adam’s almost grateful for it, though, since it cut his and Shane’s conversation short. Every time Adam makes one of his usual comments, he feels like he’s kicked a puppy.

The fire trucks arrive rapidly and with much fanfare, as the entire cast is scanned for injuries. Outside, the cast huddles in the burning Brooklyn sun as the firemen descend upon the building, quickly putting the fire out. Adam wipes sweat off his face, wondering how the hell the stage is going to hold up after that.

“If it’s not one thing, it’s another,” Kyle, cigarette in hand, kicks at the brick of the building as he observes the firemen going in and out to assess damage. “Between Charlie’s foot and now the fire, the play is practically cursed at this point.”

Cynthia, hugging her wiry frame, whips her head around, nearly smacking Kyle in the face with her hair. “Oh stop it, you cantankerous old man.”

Kyle shrugs, takes a drag from his cigarette. “I’m just saying. And one of our leads can’t act for shit.”

It’s essentially the same thing Adam said earlier, but it immediately puts him on edge. Shane, back turned, standing over with Charlie and the firemen to ensure she’s alright, doesn’t seem to have heard. But there’s something about the stiffness of his shoulders that makes Adam round on Kyle, and before he knows it, his feet are carrying him until he’s standing right in front of him.

Behind him, Cynthia’s eyebrows raise, and her mouth thins, taking on a stern look of What do you think you’re doing? He ignores her in favor of focusing on Kyle’s smug half-smile. Remembering what happened the last time Adam got into a fight with Kyle, he takes a deep breath and tries to remain calm. “Maybe, you should focus less on stirring up superstition and just memorizing your lines.”

In the back of his mind, Adam wonders what the hell he’s doing. On the one hand, he agrees with Kyle to an extent, but on the other, he can’t stand by while Kyle rags on someone else.

Kyle takes another drag of his cigarette and when he removes it, blows the smoke directly in Adam’s face. Adam clenches his fists and reminds himself that punching other cast members does not make a good impression on anyone. “You the director now, Adam?” when Adam doesn’t say anything, Kyle nods self-assuredly. “Look, kid, you can’t tell me you believe he’s any good.”

Adam desperately wants to say yes, but he’s never been good at lying. “Just try not to be a dick and mind your own business.”

“You do the same, Weir, and I will, too,” Kyle throws his cigarette down, stomping it out with his foot and trudges away.

Adam forces himself to unclench his fists and take a deep breath. Five years, and he still wants to punch Kyle Travers in the face every time he sees him.

“Sorry about him,” Cynthia walks forward, a pensive look furrowing her eyebrows. “To be fair, he’s not completely wrong about the last part.”

Adam sighs. “The parts are all set. What’s the point in even fighting over it?”

Cynthia spreads her hands. “It’s something to think about, Adam. Besides, aren’t you his understudy? You should be glad that everyone wants you instead,” with that, she smiles, and turns to catch up with Kyle.

Everyone wants him to play Lysander? Unbelievable. Adam swallows, adjusting his work cap on his head. In the past, people have said he’s good, but a full cast of people have never actually wanted him to play a specific role before.

And fuck, he still wants to play the role. Even if Lysander isn’t his favorite, it’s a big part. Adam wants to prove he can play both the comedic and romantic leads too. And Shane does need a lot of work, probably more than the taller man realizes. With four weeks to go and problems cropping up at every turn, it’s disheartening to think about. Which, of course, doesn’t explain why he went and defended Shane. He supposes his hatred for Kyle really does outweigh everything.

“Okay, everyone,” Violet raises her hands, bringing everyone’s attention to her. “They’re going to assess the damage and ensure there isn’t a chance this will happen again. Everyone, go home for now and we’ll likely be back tomorrow. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Disgruntled murmurs go around the cast, no one is happy to lose more rehearsal time. But ever so slowly, everyone begins to filter off. Adam braces himself to have another argument, er, discussion, with Violet about roles.

A hand falls on his shoulder, stopping him from intercepting their director. Adam turns to see the man of the hour himself. Deep brown eyes and a slightly crooked mouth stare down at him.

“Everything alright?” Shane asks.

Adam steps back a little, letting Shane’s hand fall off him. “Yeah, why wouldn't it be?”

“Seemed like Kyle was giving you a hard time.”

Adam tilts his head, feeling vaguely guilty for some reason. Not that he has any reason. He’d been the one defending Shane after all!

“Did you hear all that?” he asks, trying to keep his tone light.

“Only some,” Shane offers a tight smile and Adam wonders what some means. “Thanks for standing up for me. I know it can’t be easy.”

“Well,” Adam shifts uncomfortably, wanting to say don’t worry about it, but really, that’s basically lying, with how Shane’s been acting, he should be worried. Instead, he shrugs. “Kyle’s just an asshole.”

Shane nods, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “About earlier.”

Earlier? Adam blinks, and then remembers their almost-argument before the stage light fell. “Yeah?”

“You kinda pissed me off, but I was wondering…well, you’re good at seeing how people act, right?”

It’s nowhere near what Adam thought he was going to say. “Uh, yeah?”

“Well…” Shane tousles his hair again, a hesitant smile on his face, and Adam’s brain short-circuits for a second while he thinks it’s a good look on the other man.

“Would you be willing to help me? Run lines?” Shane’s smile wavers a little when Adam still doesn’t say anything. “You know, give me a few tips?”

Adam stares, unsure that he’s heard right. This guy, who Adam practically told he would steal his role from, that same guy wants him, the pushy, angry, loud kid to help him run lines. “Me?” he asks skeptically.

“Well, no one else will. Plus, you’re a big enough asshole that I know you won’t hold back.”

Adam can’t decide if he should feel insulted or honored. “Well if I’m a last resort, I can’t be that good, can I?”

Shane grins. “You think you’re good, which is enough for me. And, well, you’ll be able to prove Kyle wrong if you help me.”

Adam pauses, torn. He wants Shane’s role. Everyone else, according to Cynthia, wants him to have Shane’s role. The easiest thing would be to let this play out for a couple days, watch Shane crash and burn, and then talk to Violet again. Then again, it wouldn’t hurt to have something to rub in Kyle’s face again…

“I’m better than good. Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ help you.”

If nothing else, he tells himself, it’ll be a good way to talk Shane out of the lead role and into another. Yeah. This is all part of the plan.

* * *

They choose to practice at Shane’s apartment because it’s closest. It’s a small studio in a three-story walkup that Adam immediately rags Shane about. “How’s a bartender afford a studio in this economy? Sugar daddy? Theft? Drugs?”

None of these fit Shane’s personality, not based on the few days Adam has known him. Then again, people are fond of saying you always have to watch out for the quiet ones. He briefly toys with the idea of Shane being a super hacker who steals bitcoins and pulls off major bank heists, but quickly discards it. The guy can barely perform Shakespeare, Adam doubts he could pull of a heist.

“Rent control was a thing seven years ago, you know,” Shane kicks off his shoes and drops his bag at the front door, gesturing for Adam to do the same. “Do you want a drink?”

“Water’s fine.”

While Shane steps into the kitchen, Adam drifts off to look around the rest of the apartment. It’s minimally furnished, with only a single couch and table in the living room at one end, and a bed in the far corner. There’s a small bookcase with two rows of books, mostly science-fiction from a quick glance, along with a few bottles of bourbon and wine resting on the top.

It strikes Adam then how little he actually knows about Shane. They’ve only known each other for a few days, though it feels like it’s been a lot longer. He doesn’t even know Shane’s last name, let alone anything about his family or history.

Shane shuffles back to Adam, handing him his glass. Adam takes it wordlessly, and in lieu of having to say anything, shoves his face in the glass. It frustrates Adam that he can’t seem to figure out the right thing to say. He’s been told in the past that he’s always talking too much or talking too loudly. But every time he interacts with Shane, it’s as if normal speech is gone, or his brain is operating on autopilot and says the worst thing it can.

The fact that Shane doesn’t look any more comfortable is Adam’s only consolation. The taller man scratches the back of his neck, hunching his shoulder slightly as he jerks his head to the couch. “Uh, do you want to sit down?”

Adam stares at the couch, a loveseat not really meant for more than one guest. They’d practically be on top of each other. “The floor is fine,” his voice comes out higher pitched than it should have. He swallows and rapidly scrambles to cover his embarrassment. “Besides, we don’t want you getting too comfortable, right? We’re here to work.”

Shane barks out a laugh, and that seems to loosen the tension right away. “Floor’s fine,” he plops on the ground and rifles through his bag, pulling out the script. Adam grabs his own, leaning against the coffee table.

Shane looks at him expectantly and Adam realizes he has no clue how to go about teaching someone how to act. He presses his lips together, pretending to contemplate the script. Looking back, maybe he’d been a little hard on his teachers during college. Acting is as much personal preference as it is technique. A teacher could draw out the perfect performance from some, and for others, it never seems to click. Adam could criticize to the end of his days, but where did he even begin in this situation?

I’m in completely over my head, he thinks wryly. Nice going.

But Shane is still waiting for him patiently. Adam can’t admit he doesn’t know how to teach. He refuses to look inept and he smiles at Shane in return, feigning confidence.

“Okay,” Adam says, clearly stalling. “What do you want to work on?”

“Uh. Everything?” Shane blinks wide eyes at him and not for the first time, Adam thinks he’d like to strangle the taller man.

“Okay. Why don’t we just start with the beginning?”

“It’s a very good place to start,” Shane murmurs.

“If you quote Sound of Music at me again, I’m leaving,” Adam says firmly.

“Really? That’s your breaking point?”

“Yes, I swear to God. Now start with your first lines.”

“Alright, alright,” Shane shakes his head, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips up.

Just as Adam noticed the first time, Shane’s voice is pleasant. It’s smooth and low, and the words come out rhythmically at first. When he’s like this, Adam can see why Violet cast him. His voice is quietly authoritative and it’s hard not to listen to him. But just like in practice, as he continues further into his lines, he begins to hesitate, and the words start coming out less smooth and more stuttered.

“Hold on,” Adam raises a hand signaling to him to stop. Shane stops, gaze still pinned to his script. His cheeks have colored slightly and his eyebrows are pinched together. “You were doing good in the beginning. What happening after that?”

“I’m not sure,” Shane’s hands tighten around the script. “Inexperience?”

Okay. Weird. Adam considers how tense the other man is and how he refuses to meet his gaze. When it finally dawns on him, Adam nearly groans at how obvious it is. “Don’t tell me,” he runs a hand over his eyes. “You have stage fright.”

“Well, I’m not sure it’s stage fright,” Shane says weakly.

Just perfect. “Is there something in your head that freezes up every time you realize we’re looking at you?”

Shane’s shoulders slump further. “A bit,” he admits. “I’m…I’m not a huge fan of other people looking at me.”

Adam is going to murder Violet. “And you took the role anyway?”

“I didn’t know!” Shane protests. “I haven’t done anything like this since, I don’t know, high school. I mean, I was an extra at one point, when they had a calling and I made a bit of extra money just by standing around in a coffee shop. But that was normal, you know? I just had to fade into the background. How was I supposed to know that anxiety would just pound into me all of a sudden?”

Adam’s reconsidering the poison idea from yesterday. Not for Shane, but for Violet. He pinches the tip of his nose. Who knows someone for so long and doesn’t realize they have stage fright? Sighing, Adam drops his hand. If they’re going to progress any further, he knows he’s going to have to break Shane out of this mindset.

Adam’s never had stage fright, at least from what he can remember. For him, the stage has always let him become something he’s not, something besides the pushy kid everyone deemed him to be. This is completely new territory for him. And he’s not sure he’s delicate enough to guide Shane out of it.

He discards the idea about being delicate. After all, Shane was the one who asked for Adam’s help in the first place. So, whether Shane likes it or not, he’s going to get Adam’s version of help. He throws caution aside. “Alright, why the anxiety? You’re tall and gorgeous and shit, people must stare at you all the time.”

Shane opens his mouth and closes it a few times, clearly thrown off. He finally recovers. “Gorgeous?” he asks.

Shit. Adam’s damned mouth just doesn’t stop. His cheeks heat slightly. “Objectively gorgeous.”

“Objectively,” Shane repeats.

Adam wants to bang his head against the wall now. “You’re like a fucking Greek statue. You can’t tell me you don’t hear that all the time.”

“A Greek statue?” Shane is slowly moving from completely stunned to downright delighted by Adam’s floundering. Adam’s trying to help him and compliment him, and he’s laughing at him!

“Are you just going to repeat everything, I say?” Adam snaps.

“Sorry, sorry,” Shane snickers. “That was…poetic.”

“Listen, you fuck, you’re symmetrically well made.”

Shane’s snickers turn into outright guffaws. “Please!” he says, in between bouts of laughter. “Don’t compliment me anymore!”

“Fuck you, stop laughing!”

But Shane won’t stop. Adam groans and falls flat on the floor, resigning himself to Shane laughing hysterically. Finally, Shane calms down, and Adam looks up to see him wiping away tears.

“Are you done?”

“I can always keep going.”

“If you laugh again, I’m leaving,” Adam warns.

Adam’s face must look clearly murderous, because Shane bows his head, laughter finally subsiding. “I’ll be a good statue, I promise.”

“I swear…” Adam cuts himself short and takes a deep breath. “What I was trying to say is that you must be used to getting attention.”

Shane leans against his coffee table, propping his head on one hand. His dark hair falls a little over his forehead, framing the sharp slant of his jaw. Adam swears he’s doing it on purpose. “I don’t know. Maybe I do but I never thought of it like that. Mostly, I feel like I’m just in the way.”

“In the way?”

“Yeah,” Shane drops Adam’s gaze, and his other hand begins to tug on the hem of his shirt, tangling with the threads that had come loose. “I don’t really like people noticing me, but it’s hard. I stand out in a crowd. And I never really know what to say, so I don’t say much,” he pauses, tugging at the threads more. “And then I kinda come off, you know, dumb, or something, but really I think I’m just bad at talking.”

“You’re doing okay now.”

Shane finally meets his gaze. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

And then the asshole smiles again, his entire face lighting up, and Adam thinks he’s stopped breathing. Adam wasn’t lying when he said Shane is objectively gorgeous. But damn him, Adam refuses to be affected. “So, if you’re doing okay now, what would stop you from doing it on stage? You’re not going to just let me take your role, right?” Adam adds, when he sees Shane still looks troubled.

For some reason, the last part does it for Shane and something lights up behind his eyes. Shane shakes his head. “You’re kind of a dick, you know?”

“That’s what they say,” Adam says breezily. When Adam realizes the two of them are just grinning at each other, he coughs, and tears his eyes away. Something uncomfortable roils in his stomach, something he doesn’t want to name. Standing up, he ruffles his hair. “Look. Just have some fucking confidence, okay? No one expects anything from you at this point, so, if you’re passable now, they’ll be blown away.”

“Passable. Wow,” Shane says dryly. “You sure know how to encourage a man.”

“Don’t forget, you’re the one that asked,” Adam claps his hands. “Come on, let’s get back into this. And don’t overthink it this time.”

“Yes, boss!” Shane salutes him and Adam wonders if Violet has to deal with this from everyone else.

Shane resumes reading the passage from earlier. And either something from Adam’s word vomit must have worked or a miracle has happened—Shane doesn’t stumble once. As he gets farther without stopping, his voice grows louder and he begins adding in his own flourishes.

“Nice,” Adam says, after Shane finishes.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Adam taps a finger on his lips. “It probably won’t be perfect when you’re in front of other people but it’s a good start. Plus, you’ll need to work on blocking instead of just pacing around in a circle.”

“Thanks,” Shane shifts uneasily on both feet, script loose in his hands. “And thanks for even agreeing to all this. You can be alright.”

“Now who needs to work on their compliments?” Adam crosses his arms, but can’t keep a smile off his face. “I’ll admit, I was a little…pissed…when I saw you the first time, but I can see why Violet picked you.”

“Wow,” Shane glances down at his script, and for a second, Adam worries that he’s going to cry or something. Blessedly, his eyes are dry when he looks back at Adam. “You know, I was going to quit.”

Adam swallows. There’s a moment of bitterness where Adam wishes he did quit because Adam is still better, and he’s tried so hard, but he squashes that thought down. Because Shane’s trying and he clearly has talent, and who is Adam to take that away from him? He pushes away all those feelings. “Why didn’t you?”

“Can you believe that you were being such a dick at the coffee shop earlier that I refused to?” Shane laughs a little nervously now, still not meeting Adam’s gaze.

Adam stares, unsure if he should feel proud or ashamed. Ashamed definitely, if he’s acting like a normal human being. He’s been told multiple times that he’s not, so Adam just lets the weird feeling wash over him.

“So, if I’d been nice, you might’ve quit?”

“Maybe. I wouldn’t feel so determined to get better, probably.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“No, I’m serious.”

“What type of masochist are you?” Adam demands. “I’ve literally driven people out of productions before. Not that I’m proud of it.”

Shane gives him a look that tells Adam how much the other man believes that. Okay, so he’s secretly a little proud. “I’ve grown since then,” Adam hastily adds.

“Clearly,” Shane snorts.

“Hey!”

“No, you have. You’re helping me after all.”

Adam huffs, and places his hands on his hips. “Yeah, I’m pretty great now.”

“Okay, I wouldn't go that far.”

This time they both laugh. When they stop, Adam realizes they’ve almost closed the space between the two of them and are standing only a few inches apart. Adam, not for the first time, feels a bit dwarfed by Shane, who is half a foot taller than him. But at this distance, he can notice other things too. Like his particularly long eyelashes and the way his brown eyes have hints of gold speckling the inside of the irises. Or even the way his mouth quirks just a bit to the side, a little crooked, when he smiles, as if he’s unsure if he’s allowed to.

Shane’s speaking and Adam realizes he’s been staring. He clears his throat. “What?”

“I just said, ‘Thanks again.’”

“You’ve already said that.”

“But I mean it,” Shane insists, stepping forward just a little more. “I really don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Crashed and burned.”

“Probably.”

Shane takes another step forward and is really close now. Adam feels frozen but refuses to move back. Adam Weir does not back down or move for other people. That’s the only way he’s gotten this far. But goddamn it if his heart isn’t pounding. And why is it pounding anyway? Suddenly, he’s furious at his heart, of all things, which is ridiculous, but this is his body and how dare it start doing something he doesn’t expect it to? He certainly doesn’t want it to start pounding over Shane.

And then Shane closes the gap completely, bending down.

Fuck it.

Their lips meet and it’s a little awkward, because Adam’s standing on his toes, and half of him is thinking, Wow Shane’s back must hurt. But it’s also nice, and Shane tastes a bit like coffee and creamer. His hand is in Adam’s hair and he kisses in a way that makes Adam feel it all the way down to his toes, his entire body heating up.

The ding of a phone has them springing apart. Shane’s lips are a little red and Adam is breathing like he’s just run a marathon. They exchange glances before slowly picking up their phones from where they discarded them earlier. Adam has a text from Cameron, with an innuendo about asking for Shane’s phone number, and he hysterically thinks they might be a little past that.

Shane, on the other hand, heaves a sigh, running a hand through his hair to tousle it even more. “My boss needs me to go in early,” he says, more to himself than to Adam.

“Yeah, uh, I need to get home to water my plants,” Adam does not have plants, but maybe he should buy some as a just in case?

“That...sounds important,” Shane says.

“Well, see you tomorrow!” Adam says, then waves and proceeds to flee as fast as humanly possible.

Cameron was right. He really is no good at romance.