|Art Imitates Life, Or Is It The Other Way Around?
Author: first time caller PM
Brad and Ray watch Top Gun. Rated T for some strong language and mild adult themes. "This is officially the gayest movie in the history of all movies!"Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Romance - Words: 1,160 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 7 - Published: 08-15-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7291915
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: Didn't happen, wouldn't happen, couldn't happen. But let's pretend! I don't own Generation Kill, and I'm not profiting from it. Based on fictionalized characters played by actors, not on any real people and no disrespect is intended. I also don't own Top Gun, well I do own the DVD, but that's all. And I don't own Kenny Loggins "Playing With The Boys", or any other Kenny Loggins songs for that matter.
"This is officially the gayest movie in the history of all movies! I swear, Brad, there are gay porn stars that are watching this movie right now for pointers on how to look more gay on camera."
Brad sighed and looked over at Ray who was sprawled out next to him on the couch.
"Top Gun is not a gay movie, Ray."
"Oh I beg to fucking differ, Brad, it is extremely homosexual. That part where Wolfman is talking about how he has a hard on, and Hollywood say's "Don't tease me" and totally eyefucks him? Top Gun doesn't just have gay subtext, it has a giant, glittery, rainbow-spangled-fucking-gay-pride parade float rolling right though the middle of it, with a big, pink banner that proclaims All These Guys Are Blowing Each Other In The Showers After Every Flight!"
"We're talking about a movie here, Ray, not your high school locker room experiences."
"Fuck you, too."
Ray pulled himself up into a sitting position and plopped his feet down on the coffee table. He regarded Brad, sitting on the other end of the couch, apparently engrossed in the 1980's military classic that was playing on the TV.
"You know," Ray said softly, a thoughtful lilt to his voice, " you and I have a lot in common with Iceman and Maverick, besides your obvious nickname thing, and by the way, I can just picture you watching this movie as a kid and going "I'm going to be just like Val Kilmer in Top Gun when I grow up", and that's totally pathetic, dude."
"I never did that, you retarded, buck toothed mouth breather," snorted Brad.
Ray waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever, homes, keep telling yourself that. You probably worshiped Val Kilmer. You probably prayed to a poster of him or had a shrine in your closet or something. Tell me, Brad, did you frost your hair so that you'd look more like him?"
"If you have a point, and I sincerely doubt that you do, get to it before I shove the remote control up your ass!"
"Now, Brad, no need to bring my ass into this."
"Ray-" Brad's voice was a warning.
"Alright, alright, fuck, calm down. For starters, you are just as uptight and type "A" as movie "Iceman", you're cool as fuck under pressure, you're a big, blond wet dream, and you can really be kind of an asshole, just like "Ice"."
"Yeah, well, I suppose I can see a slight resemblance between you and Maverick."
"Because I'm as hot as Tom Cruise?" Ray raised his eyebrows, a little suggestively.
"Uh, I wouldn't say that, but you are a short little twitchy smartass who can't keep his mouth shut for five seconds, just like Maverick. But I still don't think that this is a gay movie, Ray, not for a fucking second."
"For your information, my smile lights up a fucking room just like Tom's does, and my dimples are every bit as adorable as his are."
"Don't make me laugh. And it's still not a gay movie, no matter what psychotic ramblings you have to offer as evidence. Tom Cruise ends up with Kelly McGillis at the end." Brad sat up straight and crossed his arms over his chest.
Ray chuckled and stretched, cat like, shirt creeping up to show a pale crescent of skin above the waist band of his jeans.
"Oh, my poor, deluded Brad, thinking that the love story in this movie is between Maverick and Charlie, or whatever that cheesecake civilian instructor's name is, and by the way, as if the Navy would have some civilian snatch grading all of those flyboys, but whatever."
"See what I mean about you not being able to shut up for five seconds? I'm trying to watch the fucking movie, Ray!"
"Oh like you haven't seen it a million times already! No, the real love story in Top Gun, the gayest movie that was ever made, is between Maverick and Iceman. Isn't it obvious that they want to fly their F-14's off into the sunset together and live happily ever after in gay pilot land? They practically jump into each other's arms in their final scene together! 'Be my wingman, no you be my wingman.' GAY!"
"Not seeing it, Ray, not seeing it at all. And that's not quite how I remember that scene."
Ray grabbed the remote from Brad, earning himself a glare that would kill and bury most, and hit the pause button. The screen froze on a shirtless group of men playing beach volleyball.
"Seriously Brad, this scene doesn't strike you as being like gay foreplay? I think you're just in denial."
"I'll say it one more time, Top Gun is not a gay movie, and you need to shut the fuck up so that I can watch it." He snatched the remote back from Ray and hit play. Kenny Loggins singing "Playing With The Boys" filled the room, along with the masculine grunts of the volleyball players. Ray looked at Brad knowingly.
"Don't fucking say it, Ray, I'm not fucking interested in hearing about your bullshit theory anymore."
"Ok, fine, you win! But..."
"But what, Ray, and this better be quick before I toss you out on your ass."
"Again with my ass Brad! I think the spirit of this great American film is rubbing off on you! And before that vein in your temple explodes, I'll just say that it is obvious that Iceman is madly in love with Maverick, just the way that it is obvious that you are madly in love with me. And that is all that I have to say on the subject, please go ahead and enjoy the movie."
"I'm done, Brad! Just watch your movie, I promise not to bother you anymore."
Brad was quiet for a moment. Ray shot him a casual glance. "What is it, real life Iceman?"
"Just, uh, never mind. It's nothing."
"Sure, Brad. Whatever you say."
"I do love you, my little whisky-tango Maverick. And your dimples are sort of adorable."
"Yeah I know, Brad, you fucking love me. Now let's cuddle and watch this fucking gay-ass movie."