Title: Stolen
Rating: PG

Summary: Stealing a few moments backstage during rehearsals

Notes: Written for day 13 of my 23 Ficlets project to celebrate my 23^rd anniversary in the community

Stolen

Amy has been busy all day with the musical’s final wardrobe fitting and hair and makeup tests. Fleeting glimpses of her are hardly enough to sustain me. Tomorrow is the first dress rehearsal, so today they’re running scenes they need to practice the most, at the director’s discretion. I had to reset one of the scenes no fewer than twenty-five times until Cooper was finally happy with the actors’ performances. Amy had been in that scene. And though it wasn’t the one with her big number, I loved standing in the wings, watching her every single time. To say I was smitten would be an understatement.

“Act II, interior dream scene!” I hear Cooper say, the mic picking up not only his voice but his fatigue. I know I couldn’t do his job, not in a million years. But he also isn’t the one of the crew who has to keep moving set pieces around the stage at will, fixing anything that gets damaged whenever we have access to the pieces again. And the interior of the house is easily my least favorite piece of the set. It’s so big with its staircase and multiple levels, we have to Tetris all the other pieces around it. If he wants it out now, that means we have to move absolutely everything to get it in place. With a sigh, I remind myself that this is what I am getting paid for. Then I push up my black sleeves and obey the stage manager’s directions as he conducts the set pieces around each other.

I am sweaty and exhausted from pushing and pulling and moving in all ways my body can possibly move. I could use a chair and a personal air conditioner and maybe a beer and a nap if I’m honest. I barely have time to wonder if anyone would notice if I snuck into the costume department for a shower when I notice her on stage left. She’s talking to Benjamin, who’s her on stage love interest. Don’t think I’m not a little bit jealous about that. But I’m no actor, and they’re not about to gender bend the script just for me. Besides, I don’t know the first thing about acting except that Amy’s captivating, enchanting, and inspiring when she’s out there on stage.

I hang back, feeling awkward and wondering if I should just blend into the set pieces. But then they start to walk away, and I just can’t stand here anymore. Weaving around a bench and lamppost from the park scene then a car from the second act’s driving scene, I make it to their side of the stage. Just before she follows him through one of the stage doors, I reach out and touch her shoulder. She turns, her eyes lighting up to see me. She holds up a finger to indicate I should wait. Then she calls after Benjamin. “I left something behind. I’ll catch up with you!”

Then she giggles as I pull her back into the stage curtains, stealing what precious moments I can with her. “Hey there,” I say, trying to sound seductive and probably sounding silly.

But she lifts her hands up and rakes her fingernails through my short brown hair. “Hey there,” she echoes, validating me on so many levels so easily. “I was hoping to run into you today.”

As if she weren’t the more in demand of the two of us. “You know, silly me, when I got this job on stage crew on your production, I thought it would mean we’d be able to spend more time together.” I cock my head to the side, giving her a long blink. “But I forgot to take into account how prestigious an actress you are.”

She laughs, the heavy stage makeup she wears hiding any blush but her eyes showing it plainly. “Yeah, just about as prestigious as Kay Holt.”

“Who?”

“Exactly. Now I’m supposed to be posing for official marketing photos with Benjamin in, oh, about eleven minutes. Are you going to make the most of our time and kiss me already?”

I laugh, eager to do as she suggests. I square my hips and step forward, our bodies pressed close with her back to the wall. I’ve stolen her away from the musical, and now I have eleven minutes to steal as many kisses as I possibly can. But when I move in to kiss her neck, my breath catches. There’s a strong scent I’m not familiar with, some sort of perfume or shampoo, maybe, and it hits me like nothing else ever has.

Before I can ask what in the world it is, we hear the stage door open louder than it’s supposed to. “Anyone in here?” someone calls. I don’t recognize the voice.

Not only do I realize we’re hidden in the curtains, but I realize we’re somehow entirely alone here. Hundreds of people are part of this production, and we’ve somehow managed to find a spot amidst it all where it’s just us.

I had no intention of replying, but Amy puts her finger to her lips to emphasize that I shouldn’t. She mouths, soundlessly, “I don’t want them to steal me away from you.”

I feel a hot fluttering deep down to hear her say what I had been thinking. And I want to tell her this, tell her how she knows me so well, how she’s read my mind and my signals like no one else has. But I stay silent because I don’t want this to end. We’ve got ten—maybe nine—minutes. I want to make the most of every second.

And so does she, apparently, because suddenly her lips are on mine and her hand is on my head and another on my back then under my shirt and her touch is so solid and reassuring and her lips are like supple fruit I can’t get enough of and oh my gosh I have to sneeze.

I struggle to pull back, because her hand is on the back of my head, trying to signal she wants more and it’s all right if I take it. I appreciate the signals and the eagerness, I really do. But I also don’t want to sneeze in her face. “No,” I whisper, trying to explain.

She slaps her hand over my mouth, leaning in closer with an almost inaudible “Shh!” to remind me to keep me quiet.

She’s so close. The scent is just too strong. “Chiiiiphh!” High-pitched, half-restrained, and muffled into her hand, it’s the strangest-sounding sneeze I’ve ever sneezed. I would laugh about it, but now isn’t the time, because I’m about to sneeze again. The feeling comes quick, almost without warning, but she can see it in my expression. And instead of pulling back, she clamps her other hand over my nose.

For a brief second, the pressure drives the tickle back, and I think I’m saved. But then urge to sneeze grows even more intense. “h’chiphhhh! Shiphhhh!”

She presses her body to mine, raises one bent leg so her thigh is level with my hip. With a gentle nudge, she turns us in place, switches our positions so my back’s up against the wall. I felt trapped, cornered, confused,  and sneezy. She nibbles my earlobe then whispers into my ear, and I’m certain she’s about to tell me to be quiet, to not sneeze again or we’ll get caught for sure. But that’s not it at all. “Bless you,” she says. That’s it. Just that one word. But it’s charged with so much.

Her hair tickles my nose, already sensitive and affected by the scent, so I do not stand a chance. “h’chiiiiphh! H’CHIIXphh! H’Chiiiphhhh!”

She doesn’t bless me this time. She kisses my cheek, the part that isn’t being covered by one of her palms.

“Whh?” I ask, as close as I can get to ‘What?’ with her hand clapped over my mouth. I don’t get this, any of this. I’m not sure she does either, honestly. But her blown pupils and racing heartrate and the fact that she hasn’t pulled her wet hands back yet tell me one thing: she isn’t hating this. So if it’s sneezing she wants, it’s sneezing she’ll get. My eyes close. My breath catches. “Chiiiiph! CHIIImphh!” She grinds herself against me.

Then, she apparently remembers she’s still wearing her costume and pulls back with a whispered curse, looking down at it.

I move my head, finally managing to pull away from her. I grab her wrists. My nose is on fire with tickles, but I’m grateful for a few seconds of calm. “Don’t know what’s making my nose act up, but if you wear it home tonight…”

 She smiles and lets me guide her hands to my hips where she wipes them. “I’ve got to go do those photos.”

“I—” I cup my own hand to my face. “h’CHIIH!” I’m not as good at keeping my sneezes quiet, apparently. I sniff lightly and pull my hand away just enough to whisper clearly, “Need to go blow my nose.”

After licking her lips, she smiles and nods. “Go.” She steps forward again. “I’ll see you tonight.”

I nod, eyes closing again. “h’IHCiiphhh!” Of course she will. We’ll both be exhausted after this long, hard day at work, but I still bet we’ll have the most fun dress rehearsal eve of anyone else in the production.