Andrew heaved on the rope, and turned to look behind him as the rigging bar flew up into the dark abyss of the stage's ceiling. He waited for it to reach the proper height, and gripped the rope tight, wincing as the harsh rope bit his hands. Locking the bar, he took out a roll of electrical tape and wrapped a short piece around the rope, marking the desired height for future reference. Rubbing his hands on his khakis, he took out his little spiral notebook and jotted down a few obscure numbers, his notes for the set. He glanced behind him at the boat, and glowered. Anything Goes was no fun from a stage manager's perspective-- the show had one set switch. Otherwise, it was all ropes and lights. And boys in sailor outfits. Couldn't forget them.

"Matthews!" Andrew swiveled as he heard his name barked. Mr. Goldberg, the director. Short of patience as he was short of stature, not that anyone would say it to his face. "Front and center!" Andrew walked jauntily out to center stage, and looked down at the director in the pit. "Go find that set designer. You two need to trade notes, and I can't find him for the life of me."

"Yessir." Andrew rolled his eyes. Another artsy-fartsy type who would try and tell him how to run his stage. Great.

While Andrew had been working hard on his tasks as stage manager, Conner had snuck into a dark area backstage. Working on one set design for so long was getting boring and he decided he'd try and sneak in a quick nap. He sat down, leaning against an old dresser - that had been used too many times during previous years - and fell into a light sleep.

Andrew found his set designer snoozing against a prop. Typical. Taking a moment to study the slumbering boy, he marveled he hadn't met the designer before. The boy looked to be about his age, and had spiked blond hair. His glasses had sunk down a little on his nose, and magnified his freckles. Andrew smiled. This would be fun. With a mighty heave, he shoved the dresser as hard as he could. It shot off, skidding ten feet away, and leaving the skinny boy to sprawl on the ground. "Oops. Sorry. Didn't notice you."

Conner sat up rubbing his head, "Sure ya didn't." he mumbled. He pushed up his glasses and took a quick scan of the boy standing above him. His pale skin contrasted his dark black hair, which seemed rather unkempt. He was also, obviously, quite a bit taller than him; Conner was only around five feet and five inches. With a sigh, he stood up and adjusted his glasses once more, "So, what'dya need?"

Andrew held out a hand, pulling the smaller boy to his feet. "Let's see... a name, sketches, and any notes you have. Set placements, lighting plans so I can repoint them if need be... A list of what actors should be on which side of the stage for each scene would be nice, as well. Oh, and if you could remain conscious for all of this, that'd be great." Andrew winked, and turned, gesturing to the podium at the very front of stage right. "That's my 'office' of sorts. I'll generally be around there. Any time you need me, come find me, awright? But the sooner you can get me those notes, the better it'll look."

Conner yawned, hardly catching all of what the boy said, "I have sketches in here..." he handed him an old folder filled with papers, "Notes and a few actor's positions are written on those." he paused and looked up at him, "And I'll be sure to try my hardest on that last part." he said, developing more of a joking tone towards the end, "Oh, and my name's Conner."

Andrew winced. Sketches. Lovely. "Hi Conner. I'm Andrew. You have no lighting designs at all? In that case, I'm going to need you to set aside a rehearsal to sit with me on stage right and talk with me about lighting, or our actors will be in the dark, and nobody will see them." He paused a beat. "Actually, maybe that's better." he joked.

"Andy..." said Conner, saying it as if it were the name he were told, "I guess you make a good point, that's fine with me."

"Right... Wednesday, then?"

"Wednesday it is."

"Alright. Hey, mind if I ask you a question? ... Why haven't I seen you around before? You look to be my age, but I've never seen you, or at least didn't notice you. And I think I'd notice someone of your, er, stature..."

"Really? I've seen you around - around here usually." As Andy mentioned his height, Conner put his hands on his hips, "I know, I'm short. You can say it."

Andrew's ego was still bruised from the nickname, and he didn't feel like being reprimanded right now. Especially not on his stage. Plus, the hands on the hips was cute, and Andrew knew it. "Fine. You're short. I guess that's why Goldberg likes you...."

"Oh shut up." retorted Conner, smiling.

Damn, that smile was cute. The four little braces across the lower teeth glinted in the dim backstage lights, and Andrew found himself wondering what it'd taste like. He forced his thoughts in other directions-- that'd be so awkward. "Oi. Don't make me hurt you- you're on my stage now. It's shut up sir." Andrew said, half serious. If this kid gave him attitude, he'd break his face.

"Fine then, sirrrr." said Conner in a slightly obnoxious voice. 'Oi.' Cute. He chuckled lightly and slid his thumbs into the pockets of his worn jeans. He was beginning to think that he'd like working with Andy, very much.

Andy--- shit, no, Andrew, crinkled his brow. He couldn't decide whether to get affronted at the obnoxious voice, or to swoon, stare, and drool at the thumbs in the jeans. He had to admit: it was a hot pose. And Conner managed to lock one leg while doing it, so his butt was kinda thrust out to the side, and... Andrew bit the inside of his cheek until the thoughts went away. I'm not crushing on my set designer.... I'm not crushing on my set designer... I'm not crushing on my set designer... I'm a flipping terrible liar, even to myself... "Err, right. I'll see you Wednesday, then." he said, and walked away, back to his podium. This was going to be hellish....

Conner raised a brow as Andy walked away, "Right, Wednesday." he stated. Weird guy. Cute though. Guess it balances out. he thought, smiling to himself and shaking his head.


***


Andrew came in to rehearsal to find a microphone had been broken. These actors.... Somehow, the inside wiring of it had been broken. How do they DO that?!  He shook his head. Idiots. He collected a soldering iron, the microphone, and a penlight, which he slipped into his pocket. Nothing like having a hot soldering iron in your hands when it's dark. He pulled his omnitool out of his pocket and opened the blasted thing up. Twiddling the wires aside, he found the one that had a loose connector. Plugging the soldering iron in, he waited for it to heat up.

A few minutes later, Conner walked in from a door on the other side of the stage, "Andy?" he questioned, taking his messenger bag off as he waited for a response.

Andrew winced. "Yes, Napoleon. Over here." He found the soldering iron to be warm, and so started to solder the wire back into place. Hearing the boy approaching, he turned to face him. "Toss your bags over there; nobody will bother them." he said, gesturing with his head towards a corner of stage right. He refocused on soldering. But as soon as the iron touched the soldering bead, and smoke began to rise, the lights went out. Typical; a fine time to start the rehearsal. He grimaced. He needed his light, but both his hands were occupied with his soldering. This would be awkward. "Hey, Napoleon... C'mere."

Conner followed Andy voice to the other side of the stage, "'Napoleon'? I've heard better." he stated, tossing his bag to the area Andy had motioned towards. Then he walked back over to him, looking over his shoulder, "What?"

Andrew swallowed hard. "As weird as this sounds, I need you to reach into my left pocket..."

Conner grinned, "Not if you keep calling me 'Napoleon'."

Andrew winced. Great. "Not like that, dumbass. I need the penlight in there, or we're going to have a fire on our hands shortly. Just kinda reach in there for a shaft... It'll be the shorter one." He chuckled.

Conner rolled his eyes, though still smiling, This'll be fun. He slowly reached into Andy's pocket, pausing before pulling out the small penlight.

Feeling the boy's hand retreat from his pocket (with a certain sense of separation anxiety), Andrew continued on instructing him. "Took your sweet time down there... Now listen carefully. I'm going to open my mouth. Turn on the penlight, and put it in my mouth, pointing out. If anything but the penlight goes in my mouth, we will have an issue. If it's a tongue, or another piece of anatomy, I will absolutely kill you. Understood?" Without waiting for an answer, he opened his mouth wide and turned to face the boy who would probably get away with putting anything he pleased in Andrew's mouth.

Conner pouted, "Aw, no fun." he whined. He turned the light on, then grinned deviously. He licked it, then put it in Andy's mouth before he had a chance to close it.

Andrew felt the now-wet light enter his mouth. Ass. Hole. It's like he knows how addicted to that taste I'll become. Still, he had to admit, the flashlight had never tasted better... He pointed it at the microphone and finished his soldering job, unplugging the iron before the powers-that-be could find another way to torture him.

Conner looked at him, "So, what first oh mighty stage manager?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Well.." Andrew started to respond, but was interrupted by a figure in black approaching him. One of his techies. Good thing he hadn't shown up ten minutes ago-- that'd be awkward...

"Andrew, Alex is giving Nikki shit again..." Andrew sighed. Alex was an actor of the egocentric group. Nikki was his assistant stage manager, someone who should be given respect, but was instead given hell by the actors.

"Thanks, I'll take care of it. C'mon, Napoleon. You're with me." Andrew set off at a brisk pace to the guy's dressing room.

Conner followed behind him, "'Kay." he said simply.

Andrew led the way, unlocking the door marked "Gentlemen". He was the only senior in the school to have keys to the building; a perk of the job. Walking in he ignored the large quantity of shirtless boys surrounding him, half-in and half-out of sailor outfits. All except one- a vibrant red-head with no shirt on standing over to the side of the room, dressing. Alex. Andrew snuck up behind him, making sure Alex did not notice him, and wrapped the boy in a tight hug-from-behind, wrapping his arms around the boy's waist. He pulled him so close bystanders wouldn't know where one started and the other ended. While the boy was still terrified, he leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Let me make myself perfectly clear. If you give Nikki, or any of my other techies, for that matter, any more problems, I will personally make sure you seriously believe you have ovaries. Do you understand me? Don't mess with the people in black. We mess back. Hard." Pushing the trembling actor forward, he watched the now pale boy stumble a few steps. Hugging half-dressed sailor boys in makeup. I love my job...

Conner watched as Andy 'took care of it', that little part of him almost wanting to switch places with Alex. Straight boys get all the luck. he thought, smiling to himself.

Andrew turned to leave, and noticed Conner smiling. "What are you smiling at?" he asked, harshly. "Never seen a straight boy smile so much in a room full of shirtless boys..." He walked out of the room, letting his little sidekick follow him.

Conner grinned, "Now who said I was straight?" he asked as they left the dressing room.

Andrew turned and looked the boy up and down. "Your outfit." he said, snapping in a Z formation.

Conner simply laughed, "Wow. No." he stated, shaking his head.

"Oh. So you're just the world's first color-blind gay boy. Got it. I'd offer to help you with your wardrobe, but I think the idea of me helping you get dressed would get you off, so... Anyways, let's get back to work. Keep up, or I'll be forced to buy you Viagra. Ohsnap."

Conner smiled, Wow. he thought. He followed him back to the stage, pushing his hair out of his face, "Now what were you saying before that?"

Andrew furrowed his brow, thinking. "Right. First, you need to know how to behave back here." He shone the light on the wall. "These are the rules of stage right." He said, indicating several strips of duct tape stuck on the wall, with writing on them in Sharpie. "I'll explain the ones that apply to you." He shone the light on a strip that said "So wrong, and yet so right, stage right." Moving down, he found what he was looking for. "'1: Foreplay only.' So watch those hands." He found the next strip. "'2: No talking.' Violators will have their mouths otherwise occupied, courtesy of me." He continued down the wall, explaining each rule. "Understand?" he asked, looking over at his new techie.

"'Otherwise occupied'? That doesn't sound too bad." he stated, looking up at him.

"Just do it..." Andrew groaned. This one could be troublesome. He'd have to work up new threats for him...


***


The rest of the performance passed in pretty much the same way. Andrew was just cleaning up backstage and getting ready to leave when he remembered. He'd forgotten to tell the new kid. "Oi! Napoleon! Front and center!" he called, hoping Conner hadn't left.

Conner emerged, putting his bag on his shoulder, "Yessir?" he questioned, smiling at him.

"C'mere." Andrew said, pulling the kid over to a corner where they could talk privately. "I know, I'm a hardass." Noticing the twinkle in the boy's eye, he quickly added "Don't you dare comment on that. What I'm saying is, I know I'm callous, obnoxious, and loud. I know this. But what you'll learn about me, is if anyone's giving you a problem, like Alex was bothering Nikki, or you're ever having personal-life problems, you can come tell me, okay? I have a tendency to make problems go away. And anything you tell me will be in confidence. Alright? Nobody messes with my boys in black and gets away with it. Nobody."

Conner grinned up at him, "So you're not all bad." he stated, "I'll see you tomorrow, Andy." And with that, he turned to leave.

"See ya, Napoleon." Andrew called. Under his breath, he added "Bye Conner."