Disclaimer: Do not own (characters, etc), do not make money.

Notes: This is just a fun little thing I wrote based off a discussion on an LJ community about Perry disliking Colin Farrel AND a conversation with a friend about some fanfiction we'd both read...

*To anyone waiting on a Pleasant Valley Blues update: worry not, it is NOT discontinued. I know where the story is going and will continue it when I get over my likely temporary enthusiasm for other fandoms.

"Oh, Gary," the woman on screen whispered throatily. Harry knew it was a throaty whisper because that was what it had said on the screenplay. "Yes..." she hissed in pleasure.

Umm... right... Harry should have remembered there was a sex scene in this movie - it was one of the few parts of the screenplay he'd been given that he had actually read. I suppose our moment now would be called an "awkward silence."

"She's pretty hot," he commented aloud - anything to break the odd tension he still felt watching sex scenes with his new boss and roommate. Genius there, Lockhart. Horn over the hot new actress with a gay man.

"Her face isn't symmetrical, but I suppose her tits are big enough to suit you." Perry surprised him with a serious answer.

"Guess you're focused more on the million dollar man there?" He could play it cool. He wouldn't be like an edgy teenager watching an R-rated movie with the folks.

"Colin 'Caterpillar Brows' Farrel?" Perry snorted. "You're joking, right?"

"I thought he was han—supposed to be handsome?"

"Harry, you also thought 'having apposable thumbs' meant someone was really good at thumb wars." Ah, that tone of Perry's… It was such a refreshing bucket of ice water.

"What's wrong with him? Is this about your old crush on Don Johnson and pink shirts and the murder of another innocent TV classic?"

"God, don't remind me." Perry's shudder shook the entire sofa. "No. This is about at least three other, far more objectionable things. One, Dabney had him go blond for this. It was bad enough in Alexander, where the costumes might distract one, at least, but this…" There was another shudder. "Two, I believe I've already mentioned the eyebrows." This time, Perry raised his hands to dramatically (meaning in a very gay kind of way) emphasize his shudder. "And three, he has no chemistry with this actress. It's like watching salmon spawn."

Harry looked back at the TV screen, laughing at the image. "Come on, Perry. National Pornographic aside-"

"Geographic, idiot."

"I know that, asshole. I was trying to make a joke."

"Well, you didn't try hard enough, Chief."

"Anyway…" Harry refocused on the flesh onscreen, train of thought momentarily derailed by admiration of the actress's excellent… skills. "It's not that bad."

"Honestly, I'd rather see you-" Perry cut himself off with an odd, choking little cough. "Yul Brynner in this scene."

"Didn't know you liked bald guys…"

"I don't! That's the point, moron." He paused to take a deep, exasperated breath. "I've seen handshakes that are sexier than this so-called love scene."

"Handshakes?" Harry sputtered, turning away from the television and back to his companion. "Now I know you're exaggerating."

"Am I?" Perry smirked, a light of amusement that had been absent for most of their little movie screening filling his eyes. "I can prove it, you know?"

"You can try."

"On your feet, Chief," Perry stood up and moved a few feet from the sofa as he said it. "You should know by now that I always put my money where my mouth is."

"I didn't think you ran that kind of business, Perry."

"Ugh. That barely makes sense, dickhead. Now get your ass off that couch and get over here."

"Fine," Harry half-groaned, although he could feel the smile pulling up the corners of his mouth and eyes. He pushed himself up off the sofa and moved to stand in front of his boss. "Well?"

"Pretend this is our first meeting."


"Oh, hello there." Perry's tone went from jagged icicles to smooth, rich honey. He regarded Harry, a small, inviting smile curving his full lips. "I don't believe we've met before."

"I'm Harry Lockhart," the former thief replied, holding his hand out.

"Harry Lockhart," the P.I. repeated slowly, his warm voice purring over the syllables. "A pleasure." After the last consonant, his lower lip curled in to meet his tongue in a tiny, glistening kiss. "May I call you Harry?" He asked as he finally reached out to take the offered hand. His fingers ghosted across the sensitive skin on the inside of Harry's wrist, more an impression of heat than of touch, before clasping firmly around the smaller man's hand. Harry found himself capable only of nodding and vaguely returning the pressure of Perry's hand as it slowly pumped his own. "I'm Perry Van Shrike." Perry gently pulled Harry's hand toward himself, turning it slightly so that the back faced up more. His intense, heated gaze filled Harry's vision as the P.I. leaned forward. He was so close that Harry could almost feel the breath of his next words whisper across the strangely hot skin of his cheeks. "Please, call me Perry."

With those final, silken words, Perry's thumb caressed the back of Harry's hand and his finger curled in the palm before slowly, lovingly sliding along trembling fingers to their tips and away. His partner's gaze was drawn to the motion of that withdrawing hand as Perry brought it up to trace the smile still bowing his generous mouth. Harry found himself unconsciously leaning in toward that soft hand and sultry grin, his hand reaching out farther to seek out lost warmth.

Until Perry's hand dropped and the curve of his lips became the smug one that his assistant was far more used to. "You see?" he asked triumphantly.

"You-" Harry's hand dropped. "You!" He began to furiously rub alternating sides of his hand against the leg of his jeans, trying to wipe away the lingering warmth that infuriatingly refused to dissipate. He couldn't do anything about the heat in his face. "You cheated!"

"I beg your pardon?" Perry tried to look affronted, but even Harry couldn't be fooled. Not when the man was still smirking.

"You said a handshake. That was way more than just a 'how d'ya do' and shake hands!"

"Hey, all part of the ritual." He actually had the gall to wink at Harry. "Now, I do believe that dreadful scene is over, so we can get back to that piece of drivel I'm ashamed to say was made by a friend." He moved back to the sofa and sat down again, his entire frame radiating smug satisfaction.

"That… that was only just barely sexi—hotter than that scene." Harry muttered as he returned to the extreme opposite end of the sofa. "And you still cheated." He kept his eyes locked on the television and the violent fight scene currently filling its screen.

"Whatever you say, Chief." The self-satisfaction still rang clear and obvious in his voice. "I'll make it up to you, though."

"You'd better."

"I'll do it again tomorrow."

"Excell… eh?"

"What just happened here?" the actor on screen asked, confused. Harry knew he was confused because… well… because.