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“You just seemed so stressed out earlier, I wanted to help,” Patrick said. “I thought that if you were going to be late, then maybe I could just show up and mug for time a little.”
“So you…” Will’s eyes drifted downward to the costume.
“Before shooting began, I pulled a hamstring, so we did all my costume fittings in my hotel room. I ended up keeping one of them. I’m honestly kind of amazed nobody has asked for it back yet—the studio is usually really strict about that kind of stuff, and this thing would sell like crazy on eBay. Anyway, I rushed back to the hotel, put it on, and came straight here. It’s like five minutes on foot.”
Will didn’t say anything, could barely wrap his head around what Patrick had done. This is the part where you say thank you, he told himself, but the words were somewhere else, in a place he couldn’t quite reach them. Narnia maybe, or Oz.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” Patrick said, less sure of himself now. “I wanted to help.”
How did he do that? How did he have the courage to lay himself so bare, show his beating heart like he didn’t care about getting hurt? And why was he doing it for Will of all people?
Will smiled so widely he was almost certain it would ruin his makeup.
“My hero,” he said, for the second time that day. “This is honestly the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Then, under his breath: “I could kiss you.”
The pink in Patrick’s cheeks didn’t deepen, but it didn’t go away either.
“I could actually do a lot more than kiss you,” Will added.
“Flirt,” Patrick whispered back. “Listen. About last night…”
An iron vise appeared out of nowhere to crush Will’s chest.
“It was…God, I don’t even know.”
“Too much?”
“Incredible,” Patrick said breathlessly. “I never even…You were…Yeah.”
Will smiled again, shyly this time. “Yeah,” he agreed.
“You look amazing, by the way. Judy would be proud.”
Will waved a hand as if to say, This old thing? “Just something I threw together in twenty minutes,” he said. “I can’t believe you got in drag for me again.”
Patrick snickered. “But I should really get going. Before those pictures go online and Simone puts one of those geolocation tags on me.”
“Are you going to get in trouble?”
“If I do, it will have been worth it.” He tapped the chest of his uniform and reiterated: “I should get this back.”
“Damn, but don’t you wear it well.”
He could see Patrick begin to shake his head ruefully, to do the aw-shucks self-deprecating downward glance and smile that he could see now had become a reflex over the years, the result of doubtlessly rigorous media training—and then he seemed to stop himself.
“Thank you,” he said. “Though I’ll admit, it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world.”
“You are talking to somebody wearing six-inch heels,” said Will. “And a girdle.”
“Point taken. I’ll see you later.”
“Wait a second.” Will reached out and pulled Captain Kismet’s goggles back down over Patrick’s eyes. “In the event of paps,” he said.
“What would I do without you?” Patrick grinned.
It was only after he was gone that Will realized he had not actually thanked him for doing this. For saving the day. For considering Will somebody whose arse was worth saving.
“The little people are getting restless,” Faye said, reappearing. “Let’s give them one more story and then get them out of here.”
