Title: Breaking Character
Type: Real Person Fanfiction, One-Shot
Summary: Heath acts like he just is
Disclaimer: I do not own or know Jake Gyllenhaal or Heath Ledger. I do not own Brokeback Mountain or any films mentioned within this piece and have no connection to them. They are the property of the actors and others who, as I have previously stated, are not myself. I am merely writing this for fun, and have no intention of using it for profit or slander.
Notes: Uh, so, yeah. Not slash — or not intended to be slash, anyway, but people can see subtext in most things. Kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing and, um. Yes. I admit to feeling guilty for writing about a recently-dead actor, but... well. Not guilty enough to not post it, I guess.
Jake laughed, falling back against his chair. They were both shit-faced drunk and more or less on their own to get even worse. Normally Anne and maybe Michelle and some of the others — cast, crew, Ang even — might've joined them, but Anne was busy and Michelle wasn't around and someone had fucked some equipment up, which Ang was trying to get fixed, so they were making it a personal night.
Jake laughed a lot when it was just him and Heath and some beer, mostly because Heath always made these real strange faces once he got drunk enough. Then all sorts of characters came out of him, some he'd played in other films, some he hadn't. He would screw up his face and then his voice would change, his manner, but he'd break through all in smiles now and then, Heath
breaking through, and say something dumb and out of character just to make Jake lose it.
He was Jacob Grimm just then, making up the most ridiculous and dirty fairy tale he could and recounting it to Jake like it was real life, his hands twitching like he wanted to make motions with them to help describe the raunchiest parts, but that would be too Heath, and he hadn't smiled yet. The way Jake laughed at it — sometimes at him, when drunkenness made his tongue too thick and he stumbled over his words or started to repeat himself too much — got his mouth twitching, begging to let him break character. His thumb jerked, and he slurred a little, fighting it.
"—and— and she turned around, and her— and she— fuck—"
Jake snorted, mouth full of beer, and a little spurted past his lips, spilling down the front of his shirt. Heath didn't miss it, and the smile cracked out, breaking into a full laugh that made Jake choke, struggling not to laugh with him.
When they calmed down, Heath was making faces again, and Jake just sat back, taking another sip and watching. He didn't watch much television out there; Canadian TV was terrible, and he got all the entertainment he needed without so much as pushing a button if Heath was drunk off his ass. He didn't take any prompts and he didn't need any motivation outside of a can in his hand; he just hiccuped his way through a few people he wasn't and then laughed with Jake.
Jake had tried it, once or twice, but it didn't come to him the same way. He couldn't concentrate on it right, twitched too much, laughed too easy; when he was drunk his muscles were too liquid for him to work up the will to act
. He had to just be.
It seemed like it was just that easy for Heath, acting and being almost the same.
Heath worked his jaw, then furrowed his brow, and then his face loosened up and Jake knew, just from the way his lips were set and the look of his eyes, he was—
"Ennis!" he said, almost too loud, and he choked it back, hoping he hadn't broken the spell.
Heath slumped forward a bit, curling in a little on himself. Jake imagined him decked out all just like the cowboy, and he could almost see the hat pulled down, shadowing his eyes. He rubbed his hand against his jeans; he didn't like to admit it, but Heath acting as Ennis at times like that made him uncomfortable. It sometimes felt like he couldn't see Jake anymore, like he was so stuck as Ennis that he only saw Jack, his eyes burning into him even as he spoke in that even grumble, not loosening up until the smile broke out again.
Heath looked up at him, and he looked as shielded as if he did
have the hat on, as if he and Jake had never laughed together. He held it for a moment too long; Jake considered leaving, ending the night right then. The space felt too cramped, and it seemed like his knee was almost touching Heath's, even though the bed and the chair were a few feet away from each other.
He shifted, and was trying to think of the best excuse to go when Heath spoke, finally. "This — it ain't gonna end well."
His lips curled into a smile, and before he recognized the bitterness Jake almost thought Heath was back again.
"Ain't gonna end well."