#I fucking know that Lewies going to be so fucking sucessful

[imthatwannabeauthor]

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[curtisandlewis]

Just Forget the World

Dean and Jerry

Safe for Work

Synopsis: (1,604 words) It’s 1955 Day after day Dean showed up to the set and played the waiting game for Jerry. Things weren’t the same between them. They barely talked and Jerry spent most of his time behind the camera rather than in front of it with Dean. One day Dean got so fed up with waiting he picked his own spot on the floor to lie down and forget the world. When his partner showed up he decided he wanted them to forget the world together.  

Special note: I wrote this fic in honor of Dean Martin’s 100th birthday I hope everyone enjoys it and can look past all of the horrible grammar.

In 1955 it was just another day on the set of Artists and Models for Dean. Jerry was gone again as usual. He was probably off somewhere rewriting a scene or directing or choreographing or singing....Dean didn't really care anymore. Jerry was getting worse especially since their director Frank Tashlin was encouraging him. Dean saw them together many times, since they started filming, talking about sight gags or directing. Frank let Jerry behind the camera way too often. What was worse was that he didn’t look at Jerry like he was humoring the kid. He looked like he genuinely believed in him.

The only place Dean wanted Jerry was by his side. That’s the only time it felt fun. More and more it was starting to feel like work. Coming to the set day after day and waiting and waiting and waiting. All of this waiting for Jerry was making him sick. If this kept up his partner wouldn't be the only one having nervous break downs.

At least Jerry's asshole friends weren't around. It was torture having to listen to their fake laughter.

'Oh, Jerry, you're so brilliant! A comedy genius! Better than Chaplin!'

Better than Chaplin...

Dean wouldn't know if Jerry was better than Chaplin. He never went for that pathos bullshit. If something was funny it was funny. You didn't have to add anything extra to it. The audience doesn't want to think about the human condition. Hell, they don't want to think at all. Make 'em cry? Make 'em laugh! That's what they want. Fall on your ass or tell a dirty joke. That's comedy.

Acting...fuck acting! Dean was no actor. He was a damn lucky singer who could memorize words on a page that's all. Him and Jerry got by for years without acting. They didn’t fake it. What the fuck did Chaplin have to do with anything? Dean and Jerry weren't Chaplin or Abbot and Costello or Laurel and Hardy. They were THEM. There was no one like Martin and Lewis. No one had what him and Jerry had. The audience responded to them because they weren’t acting. None of it was pretend. Everything was real.  

Dean's eyes would glaze over anytime Jerry would talk about love being the reason they were so sucessful but he did feel they had a spark. In the early days on the movie sets he was just having fun with his best friend. Being with Jerry made him feel alive. Whether they were on stage adlibbing or just playing pranks on each other between scenes. Dean bet Chaplin never felt that way because he never had a partner. He didn’t know what it was like to depend on someone.

Chaplin was the genius who answered to no one. He probably would make his partner wait all day because it was his movie and he was a genius. No one watched the movies for the other guy.

Dean looked around the set. He found an empty space on the floor. That was it. Dean lay on the floor. He decided he was going to lie here and just forget the world, forget his thoughts, forget everything, close his eyes and be back on that stage.

The laughter filled every space in the room. It gave Dean goosebumps and electricty throughout his body. Jerry was maybe an inch away from his face. Dean could see the fire in his eyes.

"Paul, if you're going to take a nap do it in your dressing room. I nearly tripped on you."

Dean opened his eyes and saw his partner. He didn't know why but he asked Jerry to join him. "There's a spot right here for ya' pally," Dean said patting the floor beside him. If it wasn’t work related Jerry didn't question Dean. He lay beside him crossing his hands over his chest and looked up at the ceiling.

After a short while Jerry let out a huff and said, "I've got work to do. I don't have time for this."

Before Jerry could get up Dean grabbed his chest forcing him down. "Take a break, Jer. Okay? Just this once."

Jerry didn't fight Dean and silently went back to his position. They lay there in silence for a few moments more before Dean spoke. "Do you remember back in the 500 club days in Atlantic City? That bench we would sit in while waiting to do the next show?"

"How could I forget? That was when my life finally began. Patti, the baby, and you. I had never been happier. I remember we would talk on that bench for hours about the future. All of this," Jerry gestered his arm "was just a dream but I knew in my heart, Paul, we would have everything. I knew because you were the best. You made me better. Nothing could stop us.”

"Not always, Jer," replied Dean.

"Huh?" Jerry said turning to him.

"We didn't always talk.” It was one of Dean's most cherished memories. Jerry resting his head against his shoulder while he wrapped his arm around him. They would watch the world go by in front of them and Dean never once thought about who was watching them.

“Oh,” Jerry said as if he was having the same memory.

Dean turned to look at Jerry. He almost wished Jerry would turn his head and look at him so he could look into those perfect eyes that could never lie.

Dean twitched his pinky and moved it slowly until it made contact with Jerry's hand on the floor. Jerry didn't pull away. Dean brushed his finger against the side of Jerry’s hand. He definitely noticed it this time but he was letting Dean touch him. It had been so long since they made contact like this.

Maybe Dean was a little to blame and he gave Jerry the cold shoulder one too many times. The kid wouldn’t hug him anymore. Dean found himself during scenes holding Jerry tighter. That’s the only time he could get near him. In the old days he couldn’t keep Jerry away from him. He was always hugging and jumping all over him or fucking tackling him to the ground. Now he won’t even shake his hand. When the scenes were over Jerry pulled away and always had something else to do or would go straigt to his dressing room. Dean was left waiting for the next scene.

Minutes passed and Dean took a chance. He hooked that same pinky around Jerry’s like they would do when they were being silly. It didn’t feel silly. He forgot about everything. All the talk of Jerry taking over the whole act and Dean was going to be nothing but his stooge. Or what was said directly to his face that he shouldn't be with Jerry at all. They were too different. Just completely vanished from his mind. And that feeling in his gut that was eating his insides the one that told him Jerry was planning something without him. That feeling vanished too. He felt Jerry’s pinky pull out from his own. Dean worried that was it until he felt Jerry’s hand lifting up his own. Their fingers interlaced. Dean turned and saw Jerry staring back at him. He felt Jerry squeeze his hand. The smile on his face reminded him of the boy he met at the diner with egg salad all over his tie.

That kid made him laugh like no other. His best friend. That sixteen year old had room in his life for Dean. He needed him. The Jerry that was a writer, director, producer, actor, singer...that one he wasn’t so sure of. Jerry had all  the talent they spoke of and much more. Dean knew the passion Jerry had. He could become anything he wanted and work harder at it than anyone alive. You can’t stop that kind of energy and that terrified Dean. He saw first hand the way Jerry’s eyes lit up when he was behind the camera. That was his love. Sure, Dean could be in front of the camera and let Jerry direct but he would have to produce too and write all of the scripts and probably sew all of the damn costumes and Dean would have to wait even longer. The hell of it is Jerry was better than Chaplin. Dean was certain of it because Jerry could do everything Chaplin could and he was Jerry, which is something Chaplin could never ever be. Dean didn’t want to work FOR a fucking genius. Dean wanted to work WITH his best friend. He wanted to go back to when Jerry needed him and stop time so nothing would change. Every day he felt it more that Jerry was out growing him. That was it. The all consuming thought. The one that kept him up at night and he had to take a few more sleeping pills. The one in his head while he screamed at Jerry and talked to the press.  

Dean took a breath and let it all go. His greatest fear that he dare tell no one, especially himself, in that moment ceased to be. Whatever happened from here on out they were bound together forever as Paul and Jer. These things would never change for them at all. This would be Dean’s new favorite memory.  He would look back fondly and remember that he held Jerry's hand in complete silence and felt no fear. There was nothing to doubt and for the first time he didn’t feel at war with himself. In Jerry's hand he knew only peace.