Chapter Text
It's a dusky spring evening, unusually warm for April, the emerald lawn surrounding the mansion still damp from the afternoon showers. The sounds of set fill the night air, crackling radios and clanging C-stands, low laughter and muffled curses. The sharp bark of the first assistant director calling roll, the dutiful echoes of PAs, all of it contributing to the atmosphere of hard work and single-minded focus, a multitude of factions all working towards the same cause.
Further from the set, a young woman strides gingerly towards a beat-up Corolla parked on the lawn, biting her lip as she goes.
The first AD calls cut. A moment later, a clearly irritated voice crackles out over the walkies.
"Locations, we are still searching for that black blazer, please report back to costumes ASAP."
And another,
"Locations, we heard someone speaking under the window of that last shot. Please watch your lock-ups."
And another,
"Hawke, locations, has there been any progress regarding the party happening next door-?"
The window of the Corolla rolls down, and the young woman jumps back as a walkie comes sailing out of the car, landing with a gentle thud on the grass at her feet. She stares at it a moment, uncertain, and slowly leans down to pick it up.
"Leave it."
The voice comes as a growl from within the car, and the young woman freezes mid-stoop.
"They're, um, calling for you on the radio," the woman says.
"Yep," says the voice within the car. "They can wait." A pause, then, "What's up, Merrill?"
Merrill straightens slowly, wringing her hands a little. "Um, I just thought I'd let you know that- I mean, he was just on the radio, but Jean Luc is really quite distressed about that jacket, and he's started harassing Mahanon about it-"
The voice lets out a snort, and a trail of cigarette smoke emanates from the car, giving it the slight appearance of a hulking dragon, if one were to ingest a handful of mushrooms and squint.
"Of course when costumes loses their shit, they go to the on-set key to complain. Completely fucking logical. If he gets uppity, remind him that it's his job to remember where he put his shit, and our job to make sure the garbage by their truck and in the green room gets changed out. Or not. Ever."
Merrill blinks. "Um. Yes, well, I can- alright."
The window rolls down a little more, and Marian Hawke makes her appearance, leaning over to consider Merrill a moment with piercing blue eyes.
"Is that transport guy still bothering you?" she asks, her voice a little softer.
Merrill bites her lip and looks away, which is answer enough. "He's just very friendly, that's all. I'm sure he means no harm."
Marian sighs a little, reaching out the window and tapping the ash off her cigarette onto the grass below. "Merrill, you're very sweet, very pretty, and very new. And transport guys are assholes, a lot of the time. It can be hard to deal with. So if they're bothering you, I have your back, okay?"
Merrill wrings her hands again, looking embarrassed. "It's really no trouble."
"Not now, it isn't, but... this industry is shit for women," Marian says. "One of my first shows, a guy who was "just being friendly" tried to grab me. All in good fun, of course. They find ways of covering it up, making it seem like a game or something, but it's not, and you don't have to put up with it. I promise you, I won't let anything bad happen to you if you decide to speak up, okay?"
Merrill nods, her eyes still fixed on the ground, and says, "What did you do about the guy who tried to grab you?"
Marian smiles, sharp-eyed and with just a few too many teeth. "I suplexed him."
Merrill's mouth falls open, and she laughs.
With a nod, Marian retreats back into her car, pulling out her phone.
Merrill stands there a moment longer, considering the walkie on the ground, and makes one more attempt to try to pick it up.
"Leave it."
Straightening abruptly, Merrill slips her hands into the pockets of her safety vest and scurries away.
Inside the car, Marian leans back in her seat with a long sigh, propping her boots up on the dashboard as she brings the phone up to her ear.
"Hello, darling."
"Hey Bela," Marian says, feeling just a little better at the sound of her girlfriend's voice. "I know you texted me for a reason, telling me to call you immediately and all, but first I need to complain."
"Complain away."
"This location is making me tear my hair out. The fuckers who own the mansion keep trying to get their kids in the movie because they don't know how anything works and that, you know, agencies and casting are a thing."
"Oh dear."
"I caught our douchebag key grip dragging a side table out of his way for no reason, on an oak flooring that scratches if you sneeze on it."
"What a wretched man."
"Everyone keeps reaming out Mahanon on the radio because he's new, because everyone's new, and of all the people who are new he's the least new but he's still new because we're filming a fucking MOW in the ass end of pilot season. In Abbotsford. Abbotsford! I hate Abbotsford, Bela."
"You're smoking right now, aren't you?"
Marian winces, blowing out a plume of smoke. "In my defence, this is only my third. And I've cut it down to two per work day, usually. Today's just so wildly frustrating."
"It'll be a fascinating study, watching you and Garrett grow old, to see if smoking really does make someone age faster."
Marian scowls. "You only quit a month ago, Miss "I-Plan-On-Getting-Laid-Sometime-In-The-Near-Future.""
"I don't feel as though my sex life is in danger, dear. I'm far too pretty and you're far too easy for that."
"I want to deny these things. I won't, but I want to."
"That's the spirit. Do you feel better?"
"No. But distract me. What's up?"
"Though nowhere near as exciting as your current situation, your twin has had... well, an encounter. He's not taking it very well."
Marian sits up, frowning. "Garrett? What's wrong?"
"He saw Sebastian at the bar earlier."
"Motherfucker. Was Seb a douche?"
"Not directly. I don't think they spoke. However, it was Sebastian's company that upset him."
"Oh?"
"He was with another man."
Marian blinks. And blinks again. "The whole reason why they broke up-"
"Precisely."
"Are you sure they weren't just friends?"
"Apparently there was tongue involved."
"Shit. How's Garrett?"
"Five drinks in and currently deep in conversation with his support group, which at the moment consists of myself, Beth, Andy, and Kitty."
"Shit. We're not going to be wrapped for- fuck, at least another hour, hour and a half. They're really fucking milking this scene, it's only three-eighths of a page. Can you keep my brother from doing anything horrible for the next while?"
"He's put Adele's "Hello" on a loop and it's been playing for the past twenty minutes."
"Horrible but manageable. Okay. I'll try to get home as soon as I can."
"I know you will, love. Give my best to... the coworker that you want to kill least, I suppose."
"That would be Merrill. You can tell Garrett his student is doing really well for her second day. I'm just worried the men on this set are going to eat her alive."
"Are you going to throw someone again?"
Marian smiles wryly, tossing the butt of her cigarette out the window. "I've been thinking about it."
-
"Garrett, I love you, but I can only listen to so much Adele."
Garrett stares into his gin morosely, not reacting as Andy removes his phone from the speakers and puts on some underground indie trash instead.
"This is hardly better," Isabela mutters.
"I'm Skyping Varric," Beth says, walking back into the kitchen with a laptop in one hand, a bottle of merlot in the other. "I don't think we're helping much."
"If you were a bird, without any wings... then I'd be a bird, without any wings..."
"Inspiring lyrics," Isabela says, just as Beth eyes the speakers with a quirked eyebrow and says, "The fuck, Andy?"
"You're all far too judgmental and- seduced by the mainstream, or whatever," Andy says, waving a hand. "I've been following these guys since their open mic days. They've got some amazing protest songs too-"
"Who writes protest songs anymore?"
"Exactly."
Garrett downs the rest of his gin in one go, and slides the empty glass across the counter. Beth sets the laptop down in front of him and uncaps the merlot, pouring it into the near-empty gin glass.
"Hey Sunshine- or not. That is not the face of Sunshine I see before me."
"Hey, Varric," Beth says, coming around the counter to hand the merlot to Garrett and stooping into camera view. "I'm really glad you picked up. How's Toronto?"
"Gross. It's Toronto. What's up with your brother?"
"There was a wild Sebastian sighting tonight," Andy says, skipping to the next song on his phone. A clash of guitar squeals accompanies a shout of "Legalize it!" through the speakers, hastily cut out and replaced with some slightly off-tune broken chords and a gentle vocal warble.
"That can happen. I'm sorry Garrett, if you'd let me negotiate the break-up, I'm sure you could have gotten all of Vancouver in the divorce."
"That's not the thing, exactly," Beth says gently, as Garrett slowly sips his wine with a slightly deadened stare. "Seb wasn't alone."
"Well when you dedicate your life to the Lord on High, you never walk alone, or so I'm told."
"He was with another man, Varric," Andy says, crossing over to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of kombucha. "In a Biblical way, rather than a... you know, Biblical way."
The connection jumps for a moment, leaving Varric's slightly bemused expression frozen in time, one of his eyes half-closed in a blink. Then the feed picks up again, and Varric is uncapping a mickey of rum with a scowl.
"I thought douchecanoe left Garrett for Jesus."
"He might have," Isabela says thoughtfully. "The man Seb was with didn't happen to be hispanic, did he?"
With a soft, sad sound, Garrett folds his arms on the counter and plants his face in his elbows. This soft, sad sound is echoed by Kitty, who sticks her enormous head into Garrett's lap with a sympathetic whine.
"Where's the smarter Hawke sibling?" Varric asks, throwing back the rum with a wince and lowering it to say, "Aside from you, Sunshine."
"Apparently they wrapped not too long ago, and if I know my lovely significant other she'll have beetled out of there pretty much immediately," Isabela says, checking her phone. "They've got a wrap crew in the mansion tomorrow, so it's a walk-away tonight. Oh, Garrett, I meant to tell you, apparently Merrill's doing really well on set."
Garrett gives a weak thumbs-up, but doesn't lift his head.
"Listen, Garrett, I know you don't need to hear the pep-talk from me, but just remember: this is the same man who thought the Voyage of the Dawn Treader was the best film in the Narnia series. The man who said Christy Clarke would make a great premier. He upgraded your cable to include the Pope channel and made you pay for it. The guy's a mess."
"He also said some very rude things about my involvement with Occupy Vancouver," Andy mutters, following with a swig of kombucha.
"To be fair, dear, we all did that," Isabela says.
"Alright, I'm not getting through to him and I won't be back for another week, so I must leave this task in the hands of lesser mortals," Varric says, gesturing to the camera with his rum. "You need to get the man laid."
"I will happily provide emotional support that doesn't include any involvement in my brother's sex life, thanks ever so," Beth says, sounding a little nauseous.
"Isabela?"
"Varric, darling, you know me," Isabela says with a slow grin. "Getting people into bed is my specialty. Doesn't have to be my own."
"That's the spirit. Blondie?"
"I have a double-shift at the hospital tomorrow, but if any of my patients are relatively attractive and mostly free of venereal disease, I'll be sure to give them Garrett's number."
"Excellent. See, Garrett? Your friends care about you. They only want the best for you and your pe-"
"-People are the worst."
This shout is coupled with a slammed door, and both Garrett and Kitty lift their heads at the sound.
"In the kitchen, dear, there's alcohol and a large dog wanting to see you," Isabela calls, smiling.
Kitty looks to the doorway, then to Garrett, and produces a small whine.
"It's okay," Garrett croaks, scratching her behind the ears. "Go see mommy."
Kitty barks and takes off, scampering out of the kitchen at top speed. A moment later there's a thump and a muffled curse, followed by a gentle, "Hey, baby. As much as I love it when you break my ribs upon entering the house, I need to see my brother. Wanna let me up?"
"Is that Marian?"
"Yeah," Beth says.
"Then Garrett is in good hands. I have a conference with a publishing agency in the morning, so I'm gonna sign off. Remember, Garrett always starts singing "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" just before he's about to puke, so if you could cut him off before he gets to that point-"
"You act as if I don't know my own brother," Beth says, shaking her head. "Bye, Varric. Knock 'em dead tomorrow, or break a leg, or whatever a writer does."
"Drink, mostly. Tell Marian to stop smoking. Adios."
The call ends, and Marian enters the kitchen, Kitty close on her heels. Beth looks up with a frown. "Have you been smoking again?"
Marian glares at Isabela, who shrugs. "I didn't say anything, honey. Varric's either psychic or planted a bug in your phone."
"Probably the latter," Marian says, sounding a little defeated. "Hello, everyone. Hello, little sis. Hello, sad brother. Hello, weird-ass hipster music courtesy of Andy, no doubt, what the fuck are we listening to?"
"Harper knew, the Tories knew, they knew and never told you-"
"A band," Andy says stiffly. "Don't you have a brother to take care of?"
Marian grins, kisses Isabela, and turns to Garrett. "I do, apparently. How are you feeling?"
Garrett stares at the counter for a moment, then at his glass. "This is the best wine I've ever tasted."
"It's merlot mixed with gin," Beth says, grimacing. "He's pretty far gone, Riri."
"I can see that," Marian says. "Alright everyone, clear out please. We need some twin time."
Beth takes the bottle of merlot, Andy takes the kombucha and his phone, and Isabela takes hold of Marian's ass long enough to give it a firm squeeze before sweeping out of the kitchen, leaving Marian with a drunk twin and a large dog.
"We're taking this to the couch," Marian says, guiding Garrett off the barstool and helping him stumble towards the living room, taking his wine as she does so. With a short shrug, she takes a sip, and blinks. "What the fuck. The gin actually pairs well with this shit."
"It's good wine."
"No, it's not, which is I think why the gin improved the flavour. Bethy's cheap about her reds. Come on, now, let's get you sat down."
In moments, Marian has her brother wrapped up tight in a hand-knit blanket (Andy's), with wine in hand and Kitty at Garrett's feet, wagging her stumpy tail and grinning. Garrett pulls the blanket close with a soft sigh and takes a long sip of his drink.
"How are you doing, really?" Marian asks gently. "All joking aside, I know Seb has a way of fucking with you. Directly, indirectly-"
"He got drunk once and asked me to make out with you," Garrett says hollowly, staring at the coffee table. "Said it would be hot."
Marian blinks. "I don't think I ever wanted to know that. At all."
"I tried pointing out that it would be incest."
"And?"
"And he said because we're technically the same person split in half it'd be more like masturbation."
"Oh my God. Tell me this was when your relationship was already on the rocks."
Garrett looks guiltily at his knees. "Second date."
"Oh my God, Garrett."
"I don't miss him, exactly," Garrett says miserably. "I know he's a garbage human. Well, he isn't. He's actually very nice. Remember how nice he was to Bethany?"
"It's impossible not to be nice to Bethany."
"Still, he was nice to Bethany and Kitty liked him and Mom wanted me to marry him, probably. But that's not the point." Garrett pets the top of Kitty's head, biting his lip. "I miss... I don't know. I really liked him, Riri. Weird twin kink and all. I miss liking someone. It's a nice feeling, like- like there's a sun inside your chest that's giving you a fifth degree burn and you kind of want to claw your skin off. Because, feelings."
Marian glances down at the gin-wine, and looks back up. "Uh huh."
"You're lucky," Garrett says, not bitterly, smiling a little. "You landed the hottest girl on the planet, and you both have feelings. Like, fifth degree burn feelings."
"You helped me get the girl."
"I know. I want you to mention that during your Oscars speech."
"Noted. Gare, I really don't want to sit here and describe why anyone would be lucky to date you, especially after the twincest thing. But they would. And I've always been jealous of you for how easily you love people, you know? I was starting to think I was solidly aromantic before I met Bela, and there you were falling for every dude with pretty eyes in a ten block radius. Your, um, fifth degree burns will come back soon enough, and hopefully for a guy with pretty eyes and at least fifteen percent less drama attached than Seb."
Garrett sighs, and smiles at Marian, eyes shiny with emotions and inebriation. "Thanks, sis. I'm sorry, it's just- we're turning twenty-eight in a few months, you know? And Mom was married at twenty-four, and had us two years later, I just- I feel old. And young. Marian, I feel yold."
Marian snorts at that, and elbows her brother gently. "We may be getting yold, but at least we're doing it together, right?"
Garrett raises his glass to that, drains it, and wraps Marian in a close hug.
A moment later, he says, "You've been smoking."
"Mother of God."