Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2026-03-05 12:36 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2026-03-05 12:36 pm
Entry tags:
Fanfiction: Chekhov's Knife (The Goes Wrong Show, Robert/Chris)
Right! I posted an entry about things that weren't The Goes Wrong Show, and everyone's very proud of me. Time to reward myself with more Goes Wrong fanfiction.
Title: Chekhov's Knife
Fandom: The Goes Wrong Show
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Robert/Chris
Wordcount: 2,700
Summary: Robert has the perfect plan for making things up to Chris after the Chekhov's Gun incident. Well, maybe 'perfect' isn't the right word.
Warnings: S... sort of self-harm? It's pretty atypical as self-harm goes, but this is a fic about Robert going 'well, I've injured Chris; obviously our relationship will be fixed if I can get Chris to injure me in return.'
The Cornley Drama Festival is temporarily suspended after the unfortunate business with the bullet. Robert pays Chris a visit in hospital: a magnanimous gesture for which Chris is decidedly ungrateful.
“No,” Chris says, the moment Robert enters the room. “Go away.”
“Excuse me?” Robert asks.
“You shot me,” Chris says. “With a gun. You brought a gun onto the stage, I told you you couldn’t have the gun, you insisted on keeping the gun, and then you shot me. With the gun.”
“For God’s sake, that was an accident.”
“I don’t care. You’re a lunatic, you’re unsafe, and I do not want you in my vicinity.”
“You’re being dramatic, Chris.”
“Am I?” Chris asks. “Am I being dramatic? You’ll have to forgive me; apparently I just can’t help overreacting to being shot.”
“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Acting is a dangerous business, of course; everyone knows that. But, really, people hardly die at all. In his time on the stage, Robert has only witnessed three or four fatalities, and he’s only been an instrumental factor in two.
“Go away, Robert. I never want to see you again.”
“You’ll have to see me again,” Robert points out. “We’re in the same drama society.”
“Fine,” Chris says. “I don’t have to speak to you. And, if you bring a gun anywhere near me again, I will have you arrested.”
-
Unfairly ejected from Chris’s hospital room, Robert finds himself restless, frustrated. He performs a series of impromptu monologues on a nearby street corner to settle himself a little.
This is an issue. If the director is unwilling to converse, that severely limits Robert’s power to negotiate roles or suggest improvements to the script. And, on top of that, rehearsals and meetings will simply be less enjoyable if one of their number is treating Robert with unwarranted hostility.
His first thought is that he could leave his revolver in Chris’s care, as a sign of good faith. When Robert attempts to bring it into the hospital, however, the staff kick up an enormous fuss, and Robert is forced to leave without seeing Chris at all.
Right. What now?
-
Robert invites Annie out for breakfast, and to discuss his problem with Chris. He notes it on his calendar as ruminatory strategy meeting.
“I need to make it up to Chris,” Robert declares.
Annie frowns at him from across the table. “For what?”
Ah! Vindication! “If you think I’ve nothing to apologise for, could you explain to Chris that he’s being unreasonable?”
“No, you’ve definitely got things to apologise for,” Annie says. “I just mean... for shooting him, or for the coup? Or both?”
“Shooting him, obviously,” Robert says. “He’s already had his revenge on me for the coup; he didn’t give me any lines in the next play. We’re even on that front.”
Wait. This is perfect.
“I need to enable Chris to take revenge,” Robert says, awed by the simple magnificence of the revelation.
“Wait,” Annie says. “Wait, you mean—”
“If Chris almost kills me,” Robert says, “he won’t be able to resent me for almost killing him. It’s ideal.”
“Er,” Annie says. “Is it?”
It’ll need to look real. No, it’ll need to be real; Robert has always been a great believer in method acting.
“Can I count on your help, if necessary?” he asks.
“To get Chris to hurt you?” Annie asks. “You sure about this?”
“This is perhaps the most important role you’ll ever play,” Robert says. “You’ll be saving the drama society.”
Annie lights up a little at that. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, you can count on me.” She pauses for a moment. “Just... don’t actually die, yeah?”
What? “Of course I don’t actually intend to die. That would be a terrible plan.”
“I know,” Annie says. “Still, though. Don’t.”
-
Meetings of the drama society resume once Chris is out of the hospital, pinning down scheduling for the delayed second half of the drama festival. Robert had rather hoped his recovery would put all this negativity out of Chris’s mind, but Chris won’t even look at him. It’s absolutely maddening.
Fortunately, Robert has an idea of how to resolve everything, and it should be a solo endeavour; he won’t even need to enlist Annie’s help.
The piano is the key. No, wait; ‘the piano holds the key’ is a better line. Rather a good pun, works on multiple levels. Robert takes a moment to admire it before progressing the thought.
Jonathan’s ensemble piece requires a piano to descend from the rigging. Trevor was against it – “I’m not taking responsibility for a sodding flying piano, mate” – and Jonathan seemed prepared to back down, but Chris was in favour of the spectacle, and it was his word that won in the end.
It’s perfect. The piano is there because of Chris. With a little pre-show sabotage, the piano will fall during the number. If Robert positions himself correctly, he’ll almost be killed, and it will be Chris’s fault. Robert may end up with a shattered limb or two, but they’ll be able to put this whole episode behind them, and perhaps he can petition for the titular role in The English Patient while he’s bedbound; he does love a titular role.
-
“Robert? Robert, can you – can you hear me?”
Robert opens his eyes.
He can’t remember much from the second half of the drama festival. But he’s regaining consciousness in a hospital bed, with Chris sitting anxiously by his side, which suggests it was a resounding success.
“Thank God,” Chris says, softly. “You’re the first to wake up. I didn’t know if – how are you feeling?”
The first to wake up?
Robert turns his head to the side. He appears to be sharing this hospital room with most of the drama society.
“Well, the piano can’t have fallen on all of us,” he says.
“The piano.” Chris presses his hands over his face. “God. Jonathan’s expected to live, apparently, but that was a close thing.”
Hmm. It’s possible that Robert is missing something.
“Wait,” Chris says, taking his hands away. “How do you know about the piano falling? You were unconscious.”
“Oh, subconsciously picking things up, I suppose,” Robert says. “Could you fill me in on exactly what happened?”
-
Right. Robert has, apparently, been dosed with horse tranquilisers, which is certainly a new experience.
If Chris had been the one dosing him, this would be ideal. Unfortunately, Annie and Trevor are the ones responsible, so it’s really more of an inconvenience than anything else.
Robert supposes he can, at least, keep this event in the bank. If he does serious harm to Annie or Trevor in future performances, it’s good to know that he won’t have to worry about rebalancing the scales.
Unfortunately, he does appear to have put Jonathan at death’s door. Wholly unintentional, of course, but it’s probably best if he stays quiet about his involvement in that incident.
“As you’re currently speaking to me,” he says, “should I consider myself forgiven?”
Chris sighs. “I’m – I’m glad you’re not dead, Robert. But this doesn’t fix anything between us. I will speak the absolute minimum amount necessary to keep the drama society running, but we aren’t friends, and we will not be making conversation.”
Fine. Back to the drawing board, Robert supposes.
-
Given the current state of their relationship, Chris is unlikely to listen to Robert’s proposal, which means Robert is forced to launder it through Annie. It’s galling to give someone else the credit for his own hard work, but perhaps Robert will be able to make some sort of announcement after everything’s been smoothed out with Chris.
“Given that Jonathan’s circus number was unfortunately short-handed, I thought our next play could be set in the circus,” Annie says, following the script Robert wrote for her. Robert must resist the urge to give her acting notes.
Dennis frowns. “Are you all right, Annie? You don’t sound right.”
“I’ve taken the liberty of writing the script.” Annie sets down Robert’s latest masterwork in front of her.
“I didn’t know you were a writer, Annie,” Chris remarks, drawing the script across the table to have a look at it.
Annie shrugs. “First time for everything, right?”
There’s a brief silence as Chris leafs through the pages.
“Annie,” he says, slowly, “are you sure you wrote this?”
“What? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s only got two roles. One for me, and one for Robert.”
Ah. In his eagerness to carry out his reconciliation plan, Robert may have neglected to consider the rest of the drama society.
“Right,” Annie says. “Yeah, I guess I was so excited about the play that I forgot to put myself in it.” She fixes Robert with a significant look. “That was really stupid of me, wasn’t it?”
“Plenty of time for rewrites,” Robert says, breezily. “Annie showed me the script beforehand, and I think it’s rather good. We can add scenes, reassign some lines to new characters, et cetera. But I think Chris and I should still be the ones to do the knife throwing scene.”
Chris, paling slightly, flicks with more urgency through the script.
“I’ve brought some tools,” Robert says, waving towards the throwing board he’s propped up against the wall of the rehearsal room. “We could get started with rehearsals straight away.” He hefts his bag onto the table and pulls out an array of interesting knives.
“Jesus,” Vanessa says, softly, pushing her chair back from the table slightly.
“Robert,” Chris snaps, “you’re insane if you think I’m going to let you throw knives at me. And you – you shouldn’t be bringing weapons into the rehearsal room! You’ve already—”
“At you?” Robert pushes the pile of knives across the table at Chris. “Chris, you’ll be throwing the knives at me. That’s absolutely essential.”
That throws Chris, apparently. “I don’t – I can’t – I don’t know how to throw knives.”
Perfect. If he had known how to throw knives, that would have been an issue.
“Not a problem; that’s what rehearsals are for.” Robert heads over to the throwing board. Stands against it, spreading his arms. His role is to be an inviting target, and he takes his roles very seriously. “Look, you can practise on me.”
Annie, bless her, pushes a knife’s handle into Chris’s hand and guides him to his feet while he stares. Robert should really be paying her. He won’t, of course. But, if he did, she’d be earning her keep.
“Robert,” Chris says, “this is incredibly dangerous. Surely it’s more usual to practise without a person on the board?”
Robert frowns at him. He’d really thought Chris would be keener on this. “I thought you were angry with me.”
“I am angry,” Chris says. “I’m furious.”
“Well, why don’t you want to throw knives at me?”
“Because—” Chris gestures, helplessly, with the knife in his hand. “Because I might hurt you!”
If Chris is angry with him, the possibility of hurting him is a bonus, surely? What an incomprehensible man. “It’s fine. I trust you.”
“It’s not a question of trust; this is a skill I don’t have!” Chris is becoming agitated. More inclined to throw knives, perhaps? “We haven’t even agreed to do this play. And, if we do, surely we can find a safer way to perform this scene. There’s no reason to do this.”
Chris has a weapon in his hand. If Robert provokes him a little further, surely he can be persuaded to use it. “Come on, Chris, don’t be a coward. Knife throwing can’t be that difficult.”
“I’m not a coward! I—”
“I shot you,” Robert says. “Don’t you want your vengeance?”
Chris falls suddenly silent. Stares at him.
“What are you hoping for from this?” Chris asks, at last. “It sounds as if you want this knife throwing to go wrong, but I can’t fathom why that would be the case. What, is this some plot to sue me for damages?”
Damn, damn, damn. Chris can be inconveniently sharp sometimes, much like the knives he is persistently failing to throw at Robert.
“Right,” Robert says. “Before I say anything, I think it’s important to bear in mind that this endeavour signifies how much I value our relationship.”
Chris takes a step closer. Lowering his voice, although there’s no possible way the others in the room can’t hear them. “Robert, please tell me what’s going on.”
“I simply wished to repair our friendship,” Robert says. “The issue is that I injured you. Therefore, if you injure me, we’ll be back on even ground, and you’ll no longer bear this ridiculous grudge over that incident with the gun.”
Chris’s eyes widen. “You were trying to trick me into hurting you?”
“Well, at this point I suppose I might as well be more direct about it.” Robert shifts against the knife throwing board, spreading his arms a little wider. “You’ve got the knife in your hand; why not stab me? You’ll feel better.”
“You’re more insane than I ever suspected,” Chris says, softly.
“Really, I should have approached you with the direct offer from the start. The piano plan was a disaster.”
“The piano – Robert, are you the reason the piano fell during the drama festival?”
Ah. Perhaps he shouldn’t have let that one slip. If Jonathan holds a grudge as fiercely as Chris, Robert is going to have to solicit an injury from him as well.
“Oh, God, was that part of this?” Annie asks. “That wasn’t me. Just so everyone knows. I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“Robert, do you know how much sleep I lost over that damn piano?” Chris demands. “Jonathan could have been killed!”
“The intent was for the piano to fall on me, to be clear,” Robert explains. “Jonathan was unfortunate collateral damage.”
“That’s not – that’s not better! What is wrong with you?”
“I’m trying to set things right between us! I’ve gone to a great deal of effort, you know. I wrote an entire script.”
“You wrote—” Chris shakes his head. “Of course you did. That explains a lot. Annie, you and I will need to have a word about enabling Robert’s nonsense.”
“Sorry,” Annie mumbles. “I just like it when everyone gets along.”
“You seem very angry, Chris.” Robert runs his palms invitingly down the throwing board at his back. “Wouldn’t you feel better if you threw a knife or two?”
There’s a moment’s absolute silence. Chris walks slowly up to Robert, with measured, deliberate steps.
“I would strongly advise you not to keep manipulating me into injuring you,” Chris says, very quietly, “or you may end up more injured than you bargained for.”
Holding Robert’s gaze from inches away, he brings his hand up suddenly, the one holding the knife. The blade thunks into the board, just next to Robert’s ear.
It is powerfully, startlingly erotic. For a moment, Robert and Chris just stare into each other’s eyes.
They’re kissing in the next instant. This—
Well, this wasn’t necessarily Robert’s goal for this meeting, but he has no objection. He doesn’t like being backed against the board for this, though; it’s a weak position. If he can steer Chris so he’s the one against a wall—
The moment Robert attempts to take control, Chris yanks the knife out and stabs it through the side of Robert’s jacket, pinning him to the board.
Well. He’ll stay where he is, he supposes.
They break apart at last, just a little, giving Robert the opportunity to register their surroundings. The other members of the drama society are looking on in wide-eyed silence, with the exception of Max, who is applauding.
“I’m still angry with you,” Chris murmurs, almost into Robert’s mouth. “But, um... we can talk. We might need to talk about this.”
“Er,” Jonathan says. “Am I – am I interpreting all this correctly? You’re the reason that piano fell on me, Robert?”
Robert tugs Chris towards him and kisses him again. If his mouth is occupied, he cannot reasonably be expected to answer questions.
Title: Chekhov's Knife
Fandom: The Goes Wrong Show
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Robert/Chris
Wordcount: 2,700
Summary: Robert has the perfect plan for making things up to Chris after the Chekhov's Gun incident. Well, maybe 'perfect' isn't the right word.
Warnings: S... sort of self-harm? It's pretty atypical as self-harm goes, but this is a fic about Robert going 'well, I've injured Chris; obviously our relationship will be fixed if I can get Chris to injure me in return.'
The Cornley Drama Festival is temporarily suspended after the unfortunate business with the bullet. Robert pays Chris a visit in hospital: a magnanimous gesture for which Chris is decidedly ungrateful.
“No,” Chris says, the moment Robert enters the room. “Go away.”
“Excuse me?” Robert asks.
“You shot me,” Chris says. “With a gun. You brought a gun onto the stage, I told you you couldn’t have the gun, you insisted on keeping the gun, and then you shot me. With the gun.”
“For God’s sake, that was an accident.”
“I don’t care. You’re a lunatic, you’re unsafe, and I do not want you in my vicinity.”
“You’re being dramatic, Chris.”
“Am I?” Chris asks. “Am I being dramatic? You’ll have to forgive me; apparently I just can’t help overreacting to being shot.”
“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Acting is a dangerous business, of course; everyone knows that. But, really, people hardly die at all. In his time on the stage, Robert has only witnessed three or four fatalities, and he’s only been an instrumental factor in two.
“Go away, Robert. I never want to see you again.”
“You’ll have to see me again,” Robert points out. “We’re in the same drama society.”
“Fine,” Chris says. “I don’t have to speak to you. And, if you bring a gun anywhere near me again, I will have you arrested.”
Unfairly ejected from Chris’s hospital room, Robert finds himself restless, frustrated. He performs a series of impromptu monologues on a nearby street corner to settle himself a little.
This is an issue. If the director is unwilling to converse, that severely limits Robert’s power to negotiate roles or suggest improvements to the script. And, on top of that, rehearsals and meetings will simply be less enjoyable if one of their number is treating Robert with unwarranted hostility.
His first thought is that he could leave his revolver in Chris’s care, as a sign of good faith. When Robert attempts to bring it into the hospital, however, the staff kick up an enormous fuss, and Robert is forced to leave without seeing Chris at all.
Right. What now?
Robert invites Annie out for breakfast, and to discuss his problem with Chris. He notes it on his calendar as ruminatory strategy meeting.
“I need to make it up to Chris,” Robert declares.
Annie frowns at him from across the table. “For what?”
Ah! Vindication! “If you think I’ve nothing to apologise for, could you explain to Chris that he’s being unreasonable?”
“No, you’ve definitely got things to apologise for,” Annie says. “I just mean... for shooting him, or for the coup? Or both?”
“Shooting him, obviously,” Robert says. “He’s already had his revenge on me for the coup; he didn’t give me any lines in the next play. We’re even on that front.”
Wait. This is perfect.
“I need to enable Chris to take revenge,” Robert says, awed by the simple magnificence of the revelation.
“Wait,” Annie says. “Wait, you mean—”
“If Chris almost kills me,” Robert says, “he won’t be able to resent me for almost killing him. It’s ideal.”
“Er,” Annie says. “Is it?”
It’ll need to look real. No, it’ll need to be real; Robert has always been a great believer in method acting.
“Can I count on your help, if necessary?” he asks.
“To get Chris to hurt you?” Annie asks. “You sure about this?”
“This is perhaps the most important role you’ll ever play,” Robert says. “You’ll be saving the drama society.”
Annie lights up a little at that. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, you can count on me.” She pauses for a moment. “Just... don’t actually die, yeah?”
What? “Of course I don’t actually intend to die. That would be a terrible plan.”
“I know,” Annie says. “Still, though. Don’t.”
Meetings of the drama society resume once Chris is out of the hospital, pinning down scheduling for the delayed second half of the drama festival. Robert had rather hoped his recovery would put all this negativity out of Chris’s mind, but Chris won’t even look at him. It’s absolutely maddening.
Fortunately, Robert has an idea of how to resolve everything, and it should be a solo endeavour; he won’t even need to enlist Annie’s help.
The piano is the key. No, wait; ‘the piano holds the key’ is a better line. Rather a good pun, works on multiple levels. Robert takes a moment to admire it before progressing the thought.
Jonathan’s ensemble piece requires a piano to descend from the rigging. Trevor was against it – “I’m not taking responsibility for a sodding flying piano, mate” – and Jonathan seemed prepared to back down, but Chris was in favour of the spectacle, and it was his word that won in the end.
It’s perfect. The piano is there because of Chris. With a little pre-show sabotage, the piano will fall during the number. If Robert positions himself correctly, he’ll almost be killed, and it will be Chris’s fault. Robert may end up with a shattered limb or two, but they’ll be able to put this whole episode behind them, and perhaps he can petition for the titular role in The English Patient while he’s bedbound; he does love a titular role.
“Robert? Robert, can you – can you hear me?”
Robert opens his eyes.
He can’t remember much from the second half of the drama festival. But he’s regaining consciousness in a hospital bed, with Chris sitting anxiously by his side, which suggests it was a resounding success.
“Thank God,” Chris says, softly. “You’re the first to wake up. I didn’t know if – how are you feeling?”
The first to wake up?
Robert turns his head to the side. He appears to be sharing this hospital room with most of the drama society.
“Well, the piano can’t have fallen on all of us,” he says.
“The piano.” Chris presses his hands over his face. “God. Jonathan’s expected to live, apparently, but that was a close thing.”
Hmm. It’s possible that Robert is missing something.
“Wait,” Chris says, taking his hands away. “How do you know about the piano falling? You were unconscious.”
“Oh, subconsciously picking things up, I suppose,” Robert says. “Could you fill me in on exactly what happened?”
Right. Robert has, apparently, been dosed with horse tranquilisers, which is certainly a new experience.
If Chris had been the one dosing him, this would be ideal. Unfortunately, Annie and Trevor are the ones responsible, so it’s really more of an inconvenience than anything else.
Robert supposes he can, at least, keep this event in the bank. If he does serious harm to Annie or Trevor in future performances, it’s good to know that he won’t have to worry about rebalancing the scales.
Unfortunately, he does appear to have put Jonathan at death’s door. Wholly unintentional, of course, but it’s probably best if he stays quiet about his involvement in that incident.
“As you’re currently speaking to me,” he says, “should I consider myself forgiven?”
Chris sighs. “I’m – I’m glad you’re not dead, Robert. But this doesn’t fix anything between us. I will speak the absolute minimum amount necessary to keep the drama society running, but we aren’t friends, and we will not be making conversation.”
Fine. Back to the drawing board, Robert supposes.
Given the current state of their relationship, Chris is unlikely to listen to Robert’s proposal, which means Robert is forced to launder it through Annie. It’s galling to give someone else the credit for his own hard work, but perhaps Robert will be able to make some sort of announcement after everything’s been smoothed out with Chris.
“Given that Jonathan’s circus number was unfortunately short-handed, I thought our next play could be set in the circus,” Annie says, following the script Robert wrote for her. Robert must resist the urge to give her acting notes.
Dennis frowns. “Are you all right, Annie? You don’t sound right.”
“I’ve taken the liberty of writing the script.” Annie sets down Robert’s latest masterwork in front of her.
“I didn’t know you were a writer, Annie,” Chris remarks, drawing the script across the table to have a look at it.
Annie shrugs. “First time for everything, right?”
There’s a brief silence as Chris leafs through the pages.
“Annie,” he says, slowly, “are you sure you wrote this?”
“What? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s only got two roles. One for me, and one for Robert.”
Ah. In his eagerness to carry out his reconciliation plan, Robert may have neglected to consider the rest of the drama society.
“Right,” Annie says. “Yeah, I guess I was so excited about the play that I forgot to put myself in it.” She fixes Robert with a significant look. “That was really stupid of me, wasn’t it?”
“Plenty of time for rewrites,” Robert says, breezily. “Annie showed me the script beforehand, and I think it’s rather good. We can add scenes, reassign some lines to new characters, et cetera. But I think Chris and I should still be the ones to do the knife throwing scene.”
Chris, paling slightly, flicks with more urgency through the script.
“I’ve brought some tools,” Robert says, waving towards the throwing board he’s propped up against the wall of the rehearsal room. “We could get started with rehearsals straight away.” He hefts his bag onto the table and pulls out an array of interesting knives.
“Jesus,” Vanessa says, softly, pushing her chair back from the table slightly.
“Robert,” Chris snaps, “you’re insane if you think I’m going to let you throw knives at me. And you – you shouldn’t be bringing weapons into the rehearsal room! You’ve already—”
“At you?” Robert pushes the pile of knives across the table at Chris. “Chris, you’ll be throwing the knives at me. That’s absolutely essential.”
That throws Chris, apparently. “I don’t – I can’t – I don’t know how to throw knives.”
Perfect. If he had known how to throw knives, that would have been an issue.
“Not a problem; that’s what rehearsals are for.” Robert heads over to the throwing board. Stands against it, spreading his arms. His role is to be an inviting target, and he takes his roles very seriously. “Look, you can practise on me.”
Annie, bless her, pushes a knife’s handle into Chris’s hand and guides him to his feet while he stares. Robert should really be paying her. He won’t, of course. But, if he did, she’d be earning her keep.
“Robert,” Chris says, “this is incredibly dangerous. Surely it’s more usual to practise without a person on the board?”
Robert frowns at him. He’d really thought Chris would be keener on this. “I thought you were angry with me.”
“I am angry,” Chris says. “I’m furious.”
“Well, why don’t you want to throw knives at me?”
“Because—” Chris gestures, helplessly, with the knife in his hand. “Because I might hurt you!”
If Chris is angry with him, the possibility of hurting him is a bonus, surely? What an incomprehensible man. “It’s fine. I trust you.”
“It’s not a question of trust; this is a skill I don’t have!” Chris is becoming agitated. More inclined to throw knives, perhaps? “We haven’t even agreed to do this play. And, if we do, surely we can find a safer way to perform this scene. There’s no reason to do this.”
Chris has a weapon in his hand. If Robert provokes him a little further, surely he can be persuaded to use it. “Come on, Chris, don’t be a coward. Knife throwing can’t be that difficult.”
“I’m not a coward! I—”
“I shot you,” Robert says. “Don’t you want your vengeance?”
Chris falls suddenly silent. Stares at him.
“What are you hoping for from this?” Chris asks, at last. “It sounds as if you want this knife throwing to go wrong, but I can’t fathom why that would be the case. What, is this some plot to sue me for damages?”
Damn, damn, damn. Chris can be inconveniently sharp sometimes, much like the knives he is persistently failing to throw at Robert.
“Right,” Robert says. “Before I say anything, I think it’s important to bear in mind that this endeavour signifies how much I value our relationship.”
Chris takes a step closer. Lowering his voice, although there’s no possible way the others in the room can’t hear them. “Robert, please tell me what’s going on.”
“I simply wished to repair our friendship,” Robert says. “The issue is that I injured you. Therefore, if you injure me, we’ll be back on even ground, and you’ll no longer bear this ridiculous grudge over that incident with the gun.”
Chris’s eyes widen. “You were trying to trick me into hurting you?”
“Well, at this point I suppose I might as well be more direct about it.” Robert shifts against the knife throwing board, spreading his arms a little wider. “You’ve got the knife in your hand; why not stab me? You’ll feel better.”
“You’re more insane than I ever suspected,” Chris says, softly.
“Really, I should have approached you with the direct offer from the start. The piano plan was a disaster.”
“The piano – Robert, are you the reason the piano fell during the drama festival?”
Ah. Perhaps he shouldn’t have let that one slip. If Jonathan holds a grudge as fiercely as Chris, Robert is going to have to solicit an injury from him as well.
“Oh, God, was that part of this?” Annie asks. “That wasn’t me. Just so everyone knows. I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“Robert, do you know how much sleep I lost over that damn piano?” Chris demands. “Jonathan could have been killed!”
“The intent was for the piano to fall on me, to be clear,” Robert explains. “Jonathan was unfortunate collateral damage.”
“That’s not – that’s not better! What is wrong with you?”
“I’m trying to set things right between us! I’ve gone to a great deal of effort, you know. I wrote an entire script.”
“You wrote—” Chris shakes his head. “Of course you did. That explains a lot. Annie, you and I will need to have a word about enabling Robert’s nonsense.”
“Sorry,” Annie mumbles. “I just like it when everyone gets along.”
“You seem very angry, Chris.” Robert runs his palms invitingly down the throwing board at his back. “Wouldn’t you feel better if you threw a knife or two?”
There’s a moment’s absolute silence. Chris walks slowly up to Robert, with measured, deliberate steps.
“I would strongly advise you not to keep manipulating me into injuring you,” Chris says, very quietly, “or you may end up more injured than you bargained for.”
Holding Robert’s gaze from inches away, he brings his hand up suddenly, the one holding the knife. The blade thunks into the board, just next to Robert’s ear.
It is powerfully, startlingly erotic. For a moment, Robert and Chris just stare into each other’s eyes.
They’re kissing in the next instant. This—
Well, this wasn’t necessarily Robert’s goal for this meeting, but he has no objection. He doesn’t like being backed against the board for this, though; it’s a weak position. If he can steer Chris so he’s the one against a wall—
The moment Robert attempts to take control, Chris yanks the knife out and stabs it through the side of Robert’s jacket, pinning him to the board.
Well. He’ll stay where he is, he supposes.
They break apart at last, just a little, giving Robert the opportunity to register their surroundings. The other members of the drama society are looking on in wide-eyed silence, with the exception of Max, who is applauding.
“I’m still angry with you,” Chris murmurs, almost into Robert’s mouth. “But, um... we can talk. We might need to talk about this.”
“Er,” Jonathan says. “Am I – am I interpreting all this correctly? You’re the reason that piano fell on me, Robert?”
Robert tugs Chris towards him and kisses him again. If his mouth is occupied, he cannot reasonably be expected to answer questions.
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Still single digits! Nothing to worry about!
"Hi, I'm here because I shot Chris, I brought my gun" is possibly not the best impression to make at a hospital, Robert.
It's ideal by Robert's very specific standards, yes.
Everything will be fine as long as nothing goes wrong fo the characters of the Goes Wrong Show!
Whoopsie!
Now if he can just trick Jonathan into doing something dangerous to Annie and Trevor...
Aw, Annie! Definitely don't hand around something penned by Robert unless you've read it first!
He doesn't want the man throwing knives at him to know how to throw knives, that could ruin eveything!
Annie, always willing to go along with the insane and catastrophic plan! Write her a nice role, Robert. One where she wears a suit and flirts with ladies.
Yes, Robert, the man refusing to throw knives at you is the weird one here.
Yes, because he cares about your relationship, Chris! Weren't you listening?
You have to give it to Robert, he's persistent!
Perfect!
YES!
Yes, Jonathan, but you don't have to make out with him about it.
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Write her a nice role, Robert. One where she wears a suit and flirts with ladies.
Annie can wear a suit and flirt with me any day!
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"There's nothing to worry about; I'm not planning to actually die."
"Yeah, but... a lot of things that can almost kill you can also actually kill you, right?"
"Well, obviously. But my goal is simply to almost die, so that's not relevant."
"Yeah, but if you make a mistake—"
"A what?"
Write her a nice role, Robert. One where she wears a suit and flirts with ladies.
Do it, Robert; she's really earned it!
Yes, because he cares about your relationship, Chris! Weren't you listening?
Chris persistently ignores the main point here and keeps fixating on minor, silly details like 'you tried to make me throw a knife into your gut'.
Yes, Jonathan, but you don't have to make out with him about it.
But, hey, you could!
Thank you so much! I've reread this comment several times already, and I've taken great delight in it every time.
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If Chris is angry with him, the possibility of hurting him is a bonus, surely? What an incomprehensible man.
every time you write about Robert I have more and more questions tbh
For a moment, Robert and Chris just stare into each other’s eyes.
They’re kissing in the next instant.
guys, this is great and I'm happy for you and that pin with the knife was excellently done but you have an audience guys-
The other members of the drama society are looking on in wide-eyed silence, with the exception of Max, who is applauding.
lol, classic Max
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Thank you so much!