luninosity

As a distraction from Election Day, would you like two small snippets of scenes that didn't make it into the final version of In Focus? They're both about family and Sam and Leo and adorableness.

1 - names

Sam, working on a small amount of research for the Steadfast behind-the-scenes book—he was doing some of the writing, though it was mostly a photo archive—opened up Leo’s IMDB page. He’d meant to check an older movie title, because he wanted to mention previous historical roles.

And then he stopped, fingers on the laptop keyboard.

Surely that wasn’t true. Definitely not. He was pretty sure.

He stared at the entry. It refused to change.

He tried googling. Most of the internet seemed to be in agreement about Leo’s name being, well, Leo. But of course it was, professionally. And a couple of those sites did match the IMDB listing. So now Sam really wasn’t sure.

He knew Leo would be out late, or at least for dinner and drinks after that table read: bonding with castmates. Sam had told him to go ahead, having work to do in any case.

He drummed his fingers over the laptop. Silly question. Not actually important for his immediate project.

The afternoon lay plush and rainbow-hued across his shoulders. Leo’s house—their house, now, in so many ways—and the purple teacup that’d become Sam’s. The yellow kitchen wall, and the blue one, out in the living room space. Their snowglobe on a table. The rock collection, polished and shimmering in rich hues of earth and pearl and sand, framed by round glass curves.

Sam smiled to himself and to the teacup; and tucked a foot into the rung of the kitchen chair; and went back to poking at captions. But he kept the question around, hovering, just out of curiosity.

He forgot to eat, being caught up in art. Leo’s text buzzed against his arm, and he jumped. Did you find something for dinner? I’m bringing home food!

You are?

It was really only drinks and appetizers; everyone’s had a long day. So I’ve spent an indecent amount of time thinking about jerk chicken from that Jamaican place we found. Fried plantains?

Of course fried plantains, if you’re offering. I could order in, if you’re tired.

I’ve got it, Leo answered. Home in a few! That one came with a heart and a banana emoji, which was probably meant to be either a comment on the plantains or innuendo or both.

Love you and your banana, Sam sent back, and got up, stretching. He found the key lime sparkling water because that was Leo’s current favorite, and also the good scotch in case it’d been a very long day; he cleaned the table and moved his laptop.

He might need an office. A studio. Sometime. No hurry. This remained new. Easy, warm, moving together as if they’d always been made to; but still, only just begun.

Leo came in smiling, juggling takeaway and a shoulder bag, a swirl of long dark coat and fluffy blond hair and jerk spices. Sam kissed him, rescued various foods, kissed him again. Leo’s mouth was sweet and eager and lip-balm flavored, this one honey-vanilla and expensive; Sam tasted him and thought about sugar and spice and fitting together, melting together, home.

After food, tucked into the coziness of the colorful sofa, a bit too full for spectacular sex at the moment, he ran fingers through Leo’s hair. They’d already talked about their respective days, everything from book cover layouts to laughter at Leo’s reenactment of a dramatic moment during the table read, cast and directors doing their own sound effects for fun, for a spaceship crash. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“I haven’t ordered the tentacle dildo yet,” Leo said into his chest, with a kiss, “but I will. Purple, or green?”

“You look good in green. I also had some ideas about my spare hairbrush. The wooden one.” He felt Leo nod against his shoulder; sensation, bright and sharp, generally got a yes. “But later. This’s just kind of random, but I was wondering…I was looking up your IMDB page, just checking a title, and it said…your name’s not Leopold, is it?”

Leo groaned, laughed, stuck his face into Sam’s neck for a moment. “Oh, fuck, that’s not up there again, is it? Someone keeps doing that…”

“Is that really your name?”

“No.” Leo sat up more, eyes and mouth amused, exasperated, entertained. “That rumor’s been persistent, ever since some big-name publication got it wrong years ago, and that was supposedly a reliable source, so it keeps popping up… not that I don’t encourage it, mind. I do. Actively, with the fans. Leopold, Leonard, Leonidas, whatever else they’d come up with. Or I used to encourage that; it’s been a while. But no, it truly is just Leo. Mum liked it.”

“I like it, too.”

“Leo Sebastian Whyte. They get the middle name right, usually. It’s from Shakespeare. Twelfth Night. In retrospect, given that particular play, Mum and Dad might’ve guessed I’d end up bisexual.”

“Leo Sebastian,” Sam said. “Cats and Shakespeare.”

Leo laughed more. Relaxed, glorious, wearing a brazenly orange knit sweater, unselfconscious: fuck, Sam adored him. “If I were a girl I’d’ve been Leonie Viola, Mum said once.” He paused; the emotion washed through his face, a shift, a brief tidal pull. “I know they always wanted at least one more. More than just me. I know they tried for a while, they were hoping, I knew that when I was fairly young…they even asked whether I’d want to be a big brother…it just didn’t…I don’t really know why it didn’t work. But they’ve got our whole family, now.”

Our family, Sam thought. God, I love you. So much. With everything I am.

He’d also heard the unspoken words about not being enough, about parents who’d hoped for more children, about younger Leo being very aware that he wasn’t all they’d wanted to complete their family.

He said aloud, “They absolutely do. All of us. And your parents adore you. Sometimes with onion, apricot, and jalapeño tofu.”

“I love my father,” Leo said, draping himself back across Sam, finding a blue-and-white striped blanket with his toes, “and so do you. He was trying something new, for my diet. Which I cheat on, anyway.”

Sam could’ve pointed out that Leo did not need to lose weight, but they’d had that discussion; it wasn’t an unhealthy sort of problem, just that Leo wanted to shed a couple of pounds after the press tour and before a skin-tight space jumpsuit and, later, a shirtless scene. He let it go now, though he would take care of his Leo, without question. In every way. “I like Viola.”

“Mmm. Did you want to take me upstairs and do dreadful wonderful things to my naked body, yet?” Leo paused again. “Wait. You meant that.”

“Not, like, right this second,” Sam said. “But…y’know. We talked about kids.”

Leo stared at him, eyes like astonishment, sunrise, forests quivering under dawning light.

Sam reached out—couldn’t not reach out—and touched his cheek, that enchanting enchanted expression. “We can think about it. Viola Carmen, maybe. For—for my mom. If that’s, y’know. Where we end up. In a couple years.”

“Yes.” Leo’s whole face shone with it. “Yes. Exactly that.”

“We can make a list, when we get there. We don’t have to decide, like, right now. No rush.”

“Agreed.” Leo turned his head, kissed Sam’s palm. “We’ve got time. But…I do think we’ll like that one, even given a couple of years. I think it’s right.”

 

2 - family

The high-school swim meet was happening. Chlorine and water and sunshine in the air. Shouts and whistles and starting-noises. Splashes and flips.

Sam had done this before, being an excellently supportive older brother and guardian who went to all his sisters’ swim meets and journalism club awards ceremonies. He loved it, and said so: cheering for his family, being here for them, wanting them to know he always would be.

Leo had not done this before. Leo, unsurprisingly, loved every chlorinated drop of water and every blue-and-gold Chargers pennant to wave and every supportive t-shirt and sticker at the team’s fundraising table. Leo had happily bounced to both feet and cheered wildly at Thea’s first-place finish in the backstroke leg of the relay, a few minutes ago, and then again at the end when her team had, naturally, won.

Leo beamed at him now, eyes big and hazel, hair gold in the afternoon sun. They were sitting very close on very uncomfortable bleachers. Sam could almost taste the honey of Leo’s lip balm, the coconut in that hair, the tropical fruit of Leo’s favorite scent.

Leo’s sweater, over faded jeans, was new: one of his own early prototype designs, oversized, striped in blue and green with small gold-coral accents around the sleeves, neck, hem. He looked adorable and cuddly and colorful; Sam, also wearing a prototype design, a shirt in a calmer deep red and rose-pink, wanted to scoop him up and nibble all the lip balm away.

He said, “Sunblock?”

“Oh, thanks, yes.” Leo did have the sort of English fairness that did not tan well, and the sun wanted to cuddle him too. He ended up with a smudge of white on his nose; Sam helped.

The current crop of swimmers was doing an event involving butterfly. Thea would be back out momentarily for a proper backstroke event; Sam and Leo would cheer even more loudly. Diana was also around, chatting with the team: being a responsible journalist as well as twin sister support.

Leo offered, in the lull, “How many shirts would be an embarrassing number to buy, do you think? They’ve also got home-made chocolate-chip biscuits. Er. Cookies.”

“I know which mom makes those, and they’re super-dry. Don’t do it.”

“It’s in a good cause, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to suffer.” One of the other parents—also a veteran of the swim team fundraisers—stifled a laugh, behind them.

“I could volunteer some baked goods, next time,” Leo mused. “Or even a shift manning the stall. Not to step on anyone’s toes, of course; I’d figure out something interesting and different from any current offerings. I’m not terrible at baking, and I could ask about Colby’s ginger biscuit recipe.”

The parent behind them made an interested sound, at that.

Sam squeezed Leo’s hand, in his. “If you want, yeah. They’d love some help. But you don’t have to.”

A few people had already recognized Leo Whyte. Sam had caught the whispers, the turned heads. Hadn’t been immediate—lots of family and friends, lots of bodies here as support, and Leo drew attention by virtue of colorful charisma but not instant Colby Kent-level recognition—but the susurration had grown.

Sam had gotten to know a few of the other parents, guardians, responsible adults, over the last couple years, at least to the extent of a friendly nod and fundraiser support and shared commiseration about six am swim practice scheduling. He’d introduced Leo to the ones he’d thought would be the most calm about that fact, and it’d gone pretty well, other than Amber’s mom asking whether Leo had an opinion on local Las Vegas club teams versus Hollywood and Los Angeles and beach culture, with the gleam of a parent focused on Junior Nationals.

Sam had been prepared to deflect, but Leo had said, “Well, you see, until recently I’ve lived in London, so I’m afraid I don’t know much that might help, but please tell me about it, I’m sure you’ve done your research?” and Karyn had indeed told him about it, and in the process talked herself into making a decision about coaches.

Leo’s voice had been a giveaway, if the movie-star handsomeness hadn’t been enough. Theater-trained, Shakespeare-polished, Castlereigh-famous even though Leo said he wasn’t the star. Jane Austen and sailing ships. The Napoleonic Wars and dry space-villain Doctor Cosmos sarcasm. The second he’d said hello, a few more heads had turned.

Someone’s older sister, wearing a Star Wars shirt, had stared at Leo bashfully, with the expression of a science-fiction fan who’d committed to memory several of Leo’s most famous lines as that space-time devoted antagonist who just might be in love with the hero. Leo had waved. She’d inched closer and whispered, “Can I…if you’re not busy…?” and held up her phone, right there on a concrete-and-brick everyday high-school pool deck next to the bleachers.

Leo had taken the photo with her. Grinning ear to ear. Of course.

“I’m happy to,” Leo said now, answering Sam’s comment, “I honestly do love this—it’s a whole new adventure, isn’t it, all of our family in this together, and of course we’ll help out with the newspaper fundraiser too, and the National Honor Society leadership meeting, helping set everything up for that scholarship essay workshop, and also if any of them would like to earn volunteer hours through Colby’s literacy foundation, we could—”

Sam lifted Leo’s hand, in his; pressed a kiss to the back of it.

Leo stopped talking, startled by affection.

“I just want you to know,” Sam said, “you’re the best sparkly rock I could ever pick up and take home and keep.”

“You didn’t collect rocks.” Leo’s eyes danced. “Until me. Us. We do that, now.”

“Yep.”

“Annika next door asked whether we could watch her cat, two weeks from Tuesday, when she’s going to Napa for her daughter’s engagement party.”

“I didn’t even know her daughter was getting married.”

“To an absolutely genius vintner and wine exporter, or so Annika says. Caroline and Jessalyn will be brilliant and revolutionize the wine industry, apparently.”

“Of course they will.” Of course Leo knew all of that, already, within five minutes of chatting, even when Sam hadn’t known; of course Leo did. Because that was exactly what Leo did: loving the world, learning about the world, fascinated by the world.

Best Supporting Actor. Always. Supporting everyone, from high-school swim teams to neighbors who needed cat-watching. Sam wanted to tackle his other half back into the stands and shove Leo’s comfortable-but-trendy jeans down and show Leo exactly how much the world should damn well appreciate him right back.

“Oh!” Leo was looking at the schedule. “We’re next! The backstroke! Well, not next-next—there’s the first heat, first. But she’s in the second and last heat, in the center—that means she’s the favorite, right? Based on the times we saw up on the wall? So we’ve got the first, and then we’re up!”

“Yeah.” Sam squeezed that hand in his, again: Leo, here with him. Their family. It swept over him and through him like a cheerleader’s routine, a wave, a wild impulse to shout and jump and leap. Their family. Their wins, their victories. Their joy. “We’re up.”