_nextboldmove_ (_nextboldmove_) wrote in mythbusterslash,

Trail Blazers

I requested a new challenge bunny, I got it.  Here we go.

Title:  Trail Blazers (Chapter 1:  G-Force)
Pairing:  Tory/Grant
Rating:  PG-13
Synopsis:  Filming the bra shopping scene for the myth was a bit more complicated for Tory and Grant than they anticipated.  After both realize that there is something new between them, Grant ignores and resists, while Tory struggles with how to deal with this growing problem.

Written all from Tory's perspective.  A new type of writing for me.

Enjoy and comment!

Type your cut contents here.

It was nearly six before we finished filming for the day, and Grant still wouldn’t look at me. He hadn’t looked at me since we‘d gotten back from the boutique. Feeling irritated for no reason I was willing to admit yet, I grabbed my stuff and drove off the lot, thinking vaguely I’d go somewhere for a beer. And, after autopilot took over, I was parked outside the Foxy Lady Boutique, staring at the graffiti and asking myself why I was there.

You know why, I thought to myself, and I suppose I did. I was remembering Grant’s hysterical laughter, his blushing, his hands over his face. He felt something, I know he did, and something he couldn’t just laugh off and had no idea how to deal with.

And I knew something else, that he’d drive by here on his way back to Oakland and see my truck out front. That despite the way he’d tried to ignore me all day, he wouldn’t be able to resist coming in and seeing what I was doing here.



“Tory?  What the hell?”  Jamie’s tone indicated that I’d better snap out of my thoughts, and quick.  “There is paint all over the bench!”


I look down to see that I had, at some point, knocked over the black paint and it was pooling on the dusty surface.  “Oh shit, I am so sorry.”  I reach for some paper towels—thank god it was only a quarter cup container.


“Watch it.”  Jamie grabbed the tool he was looking for and retreated back to Adam and the cameras.  Good thing I was only doing boring painting, none of the crew caught me in a Grant-induced stupor.  Man, I need to get this done and get out of here.  Dip the brush, paint the board.  Dip the brush, paint the board.  Get involved in your work.  Forget about Grant.


“Have you seen Grant in the last hour?”  Kari slightly tickles my ribs.  I love it when she does that.  The little sister I never had.


“Uh, a while ago I saw him up in the office talking to a researcher.”  That’s what caused me to spill the paint.  “I think he’s still up there.”


“Well, maybe you could help me with this.”  She pulled a telephone out from behind her back.  “Whenever I turn the switch on, the LED goes off.  I want it to go on.”


“Let me see,” I say, grabbing the phone and putting on my best repair-man persona.  “Well, that there is your problem.  You wired it backwards.  When you flip it on, you close the circuit and the LED goes on.  But when you flip it off you open the circuit, so no electricity hits the LED.  You wired it backwards, so that when you flip it on it opens the circuit.  Easy fix.”  That, I think to myself, is the extent of my electronics knowledge.


“Why can’t electricians say on and off like normal people?  Closed and open my ass.”  I giggle.


“Did you just say open your ass Mrs. Byron?”


“Oh shut up!”  I tense up my bicep for the fist that usually follows that statement, but this time no dice.  “Say, Greg is picking me up soon.  Would you like to have dinner with us?”


The last thing I want is to be at home, pretending not to think about Grant for a few hours, watching the Ghost Hunters marathon before finally giving up and jerking off in the shower and going to bed, wishing I wasn’t there alone.  But being around Kari and her husband—so close to their second anniversary?  I’ll get diabetes from all the sweetness coming out of those two.  Hell, it’s a distraction.  “Sure, no problem.” 


The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly.  I finished the rig and even went over to help Adam finish the shaping of his robot dolphin for their upcoming trip to South Africa.  A robot dolphin.  Back when I heard they got to go I was mad, but now looking at this thing I didn’t mind.  How in the hell were they gonna get that through customs?  I thought I saw everything but when Adam held that thing up and Jamie turned it on, wow.  Perhaps the funniest slash most disturbing things I’ve ever seen in this shop.  Well, almost.  Best not think of that, it’s just going to piss me off.


I see Greg arrive and I run out to my car to get my jacket and wallet.  I might as well pay for dinner tonight, I mean they invited me.  Kari has been really nice to me lately.  Maybe she’s just happy because of her approaching anniversary.  What if she’d figured out that I’ve been thinking about Grant while I’m pulling my pud in the shower?  You know you like it.


“Hey,” I felt a familiar slap on my back.  “Clara wants to throw a Have Fun in Africa party this weekend, you game?”  I turn around and smack Adam back.


“Yea, sure, just leave the dolphin here will ya?  That thing is creepy.  You know, Clara throws a lot of parties.”  That woman always threw him large birthday parties, anniversary parties.  Hell, the twins’ last party was huge, she even hired an elephant!


“Yea, it’s her thing.  It makes her happy.  See ya later!”  Adam hopped into his car and faked running me over on the way out.  Hell, I would do the same thing to him.  I notice Jamie getting into his truck and the last of the crew loading up their van.


“Greg, nice to see you.”  A firm hand shake.  He was a nice guy, treated Kari like gold.  Before they got married, he told me he was insecure with her hanging around me all the time, like she really wanted me instead of him.  I explained that Kari is a sister to me, but until the last six months he was still uneasy with me.  I’m glad he’s getting over it.  I’m about to ask where we were going when I see Grant with his girly man-bag approach.


“I’m going to warn you guys, I’ve been eating take-out for about a week, so let’s steer clear of Chinatown.”  Grant tossed his bag in the back of Greg’s car and hopped in.  Fucking hell.  This is a set-up, isn’t it?  I’m going to rip Kari a new open ass.  I climb in the back next to Grant and we all agree on Italian—and it takes Kari less than two milliseconds to start in on the “Italian Stallion” jokes and bad accent, which if anyone else does I kill them, but from her it’s sweet. 


This is the ride from hell---every bump and turn my knee touches his.  I am trying so hard not to focus on him, but Greg and Kari keep telling jokes that make him smile and giggle.  If you had any balls Tory, you would just lean over and kiss him hard and deep.  Stick your hand down his pants.  Touch it.  Shove yourself inside him.  Tickle his neck with your goatee.  Dammit.  Quick, say something.  Quit returning yesterday’s silent treatment.  Pretend you didn’t notice his glances, his staring way too long.


“So, uh, G-Force.  I see you still carry around that man-purse.”  Attack his masculinity.  Great, that will really open him up to a night of gay sex with you.


“There are some very important documents in there.”  Grant is not looking at me.  He’s still avoiding me.  “I’ve got some photocopies of my student’s plans and I don’t want to ruin them.”


“You’re still mentoring at the high school?  That’s great.”  said Greg.  I always got the impression that Greg beat up guys like Grant in school.  “Well, we are here.”


Get out of the car, don’t walk behind him, don’t walk in front of him, don’t walk next to him.  Where the hell am I supposed to walk?  We get into the restaurant and wait at the podium for a table.  Please no booths, please no booths…


“Sorry, all we have left are booths.  Right this way.”


FUCK!  Can’t force myself to sit next to Kari, she’s with Greg.  Can’t sit next to Greg, too weird.  Sure enough, Kari and Greg slide in next to each other and Grant lets me slide in first.  Trapped.  You’re in a booth Tory.  Put your hand on his knee.  Shut up.  Oh come on dude.  Do it.


I make the conscious decision to ignore the fact that Grant is there for the rest of the meal.  Grant Imawho?  What Imahara?  I know no such person.  As we dig into the family style dessert, Greg piles the whip cream and cherry on Kari’s plate.  How good would that taste if you licked it off of Grant’s chest?  Spare me.


The check arrives and I snap it away from Greg, insisting.  But doesn’t that mean that I’m also buying Imawho? dinner?  Shit.  Can’t win.  Thank God he and Greg get up and go to the rest room.  I sign the credit card slip and walk Kari out to the car with my hands in my pockets, pretending to trip over the curb to make her laugh.


“Tory, can I ask you a question?”  Oh shit.  What now?


“Sure Kare.”


“What is going on between you and Grant?  You ignored him all night.”  She stopped in front of me, hands out.  “Did he make fun of you when you went to the bra shop?”


That would be good.  The right thing to tell her.  Yes, my masculinity was threatened.  Tarnished, squashed.  But he’s driving you crazy.  What if I talked it out with Kari?  She’s my best friend, second only to Adam.  Maybe I should talk to Adam about this first.  Yea, right.  Adam wouldn’t understand.  Kari’s a chick, she might get it.  Or at least be a little less wierded out.


“I think I’m, I don’t know.  I don’t feel the same way about us as I used to.  Something’s changed.”  Slick.  Now she’s looking at you with those big wide eyes, mouth agape and slightly smiling.  Fuck.  Before she can probe any further Greg and Grant pop out of the restaurant.  Greg drives us all back to the shop parking lot to pick up our cars.  The two love birds take off and leave Grant and I alone in the dimly lit parking lot.  Alone, finally.  For the first time since yesterday.  I grab my keys and proceed to open my door when I notice Grant walking towards me.


“Tory, I have no idea what the hell is going on here, but I think we just talk about it.  Be completely honest.  I don’t like…”  He stands between me and my car door.  Kiss him.  Do it.  Do it right now.  All or nothing.  I reach my hand up and hold the back of his neck, pressing my lips against his.  He is still only for the first few moments before kissing back.  He tastes so good, so sweet.  I reach my other hand up to his left cheek as I push my body against him.  He is really tense, but he opens his mouth wider so I can let my tongue it, licking the back of his teeth.  I feel him put a hand on my hips before he pushes me away.


“I have no idea what just happened or why, but…”  He looks so scared, I just want to hold him.


“You’re scared.  Your feeling something you’ve never felt before and you have no idea what to do with it.  Dude, I’m there too.”  Reach up and hold his hand.  I do.


“I should go.”  He lingers for just a moment before squeezing my hand and dropping it.  I watch him get into his car and drive off without looking back.  I can hear the street light buzzing above my head and that familiar whir of my blood pounding in my ears.  I was just as scared as he was.  But you liked it.  You want more.


As I go home and get ready for bed, all the possibilities spin through my head.  That he is going to quit, he’ll tell someone, he’ll never talk to me again.  Maybe I should find myself a really nice girl, someone easy to be with, to covet.


You’re forgetting something.  He kissed you back.
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