ok if rpf is legal here im imagining a scenario where in the gap between filming s2 and s3, Hudson takes on a film role where the character he's playing is supposed to be a little chubby. and maybe once he's cast the director is like, 'no it's fine you don't actually have to gain weight,' because they know the heated rivalry guys are known for their bodies and they think Hudson wouldn't agree to filming if he had to fuck with that. But the thing about Hudson is he's in the industry to be a serious fucking Actor above all else, so he's like 'no Of COURSE i'll do whatever i need to do to make this performance as authentic and real as possible.' And besides, he's not worried about it, he's got tons of time to lose whatever he puts on before they're back to film HR s3, so he's honestly even a little excited at having a new challenge. He's always loved to push himself and get out of his comfort zone.
So in the leadup to the film shoot, Hudson starts trying to put on a little weight. And maybe "starts" is the wrong word. Maybe the more accurate word for what he's doing is "stopping" - stopping the rules and restrictions he's had around food ever since he started film school and learned how important lean muscle and cut abs are for opening certain hollywood doors, doors that a mixed kid from Kamloops with no industry connections absolutely could not afford to have closed. But now - now he has an excuse to stop avoiding bread, stop avoiding white rice and noodles and pasta; an excuse to stop buying the plain nonfat greek yogurts and try the sweeter, creamier ones with mix-ins and flavors instead. An excuse to get burgers whenever he craves them and not even throw out the buns, then to wash them down with real-sugar Cokes or thick chocolate milkshakes just because.
And it feels - a little scary, he's not going to lie - but mostly it feels good. Because it's for work, he reminds himself. He’s not indulging like this for the hell of it. It’s for his job. It’s for the craft. So when the shoot starts and Hudson's put on a soft, rounded belly that pushes gently over his waistband, he snaps a picture of himself cradling it in the mirror and sends it to Connor with the 🫃emoji as a caption.
Connor writes back immediately. you big slut, who knocked you up while i was away
your mom, Hudson sends, and then leaves his phone in his trailer to get to work.
And he fucking loves the film. It's smart and well-written and he's not trying to be conceited, but he's pretty sure he's doing some of his best work of his entire career. Plus, the shoot's filming in rural Alberta, so it's a welcome break from the constant pap shots he was getting in la and vancouver. It's like he's in a world entirely alone with the story, alone the character. The changes in his body have helped a lot with that. It's a little hard to recognize himself, sometimes; the softness in his jaw, the unfamiliar feel of stomach fat brushing against the front of his t-shirts - but that just makes it even easier to channel himself into the role, until the man/celebrity/commodity known as ‘Hudson Williams’ disappears entirely.
(And disappearing like that - that's something Hudson has secretly wished for more often than he should, ever since that fateful November when this whole thing started.)
But then, too quickly, the shoot wraps. He's not his character anymore, he's returned forcibly to the whirlwind of life as capital H capital W Hudson Williams. Only this time Hudson Williams is - fat.
Okay. Maybe he's not that fat, but for entertainment industry standards he's fucking huge. The first time he goes to his usual gym and catches someone taking a picture of him out of the corner of his eye, his whole body floods with panic in a way it hasn't in years. Fuck. He tries his best to stay offline, tries not to imagine what twitter is saying about him, reminds himself that once he loses the weight all the stories are going to only be about how impressive it was that he was able to transform so much for a role and still make it back to shredded shape in time to film more steamy hockey sex scenes.
But. The problem is. Hudson can't seem to lose the weight.
Okay, maybe a pound or two comes off in the beginning, but then weeks go by and he just fucking plateaus. He’s working out as hard as he can, he's put himself back on his trainer-recommended low-carb high-protein meal plan, but - sometimes he just can't help it. The months free from his diet had reminded him how damn good a lot of foods were, and he can't help giving himself cheat days more often than he ever had in the past, even though every bite is now tinged with panic and guilt as he opens more selfies from Connor and stares at his best friend’s washboards abs. Fuck. The more anxious he gets, the more he comforts himself with food, and the cycle continues. In the end, he gains back the two pounds he'd managed to lose, and adds even a few more. He knows some of it is muscle - that's the good thing about working out through all this, his shoulders and arms are fucking beasts - but he knows from the softness of his belly and face that a lot of it is fat.
So Hudson goes into the Heated Rivalry shoot like a man heading off to war. He hasn't seen Connor in person in months, and he's avoided sending pictures ever since his movie had wrapped and the belly hadn't melted away with the job. Because it was one thing to get chubby for a role. It's another thing for it to be four months later, given access to all the resources and nutrition and exercise equipment in the world, and still be chubby. It meant he was weak. It meant he was a failure and a joke and was about to be fired and recast from his own show-
There's a knock on his air-bnb door. "Huddy!" Connor's yelling before Hudson even gets the door fully open, and then he's wrapping Hudson in a huge, lung-crushing bear hug. Connor smells like sweat and American Spirits and the Axe body spray he still uses even though he can afford the fanciest colognes on the market. Hudson's missed him so much he could nearly cry.
"Hey," Hudson mumbles into Connor's shoulder, afraid to draw back and let Connor take a good look at him; afraid Connor can already feel it from the way the softness of Hudson’s middle presses against Connor's rock-hard abdomen.
But when Connor lets him go, he just starts chattering excitedly about the shooting schedule, his plane ride, meeting up with Ksenia earlier that day, asking Hudson about his cat, etc. He talks about basically everything on the planet except Hudson's body, and the longer it goes on the more Hudson starts to feel a little crazy. Is it possible Connor somehow hadn't noticed? Seems doubtful, but what the hell. Hudson’s going to remove that possibility just in case.
"Mmmm," he hums along to one of Connor's anecdotes, then lifts his hands above his head in a stretching-yawn. The movement makes his t-shirt ride up, exposing the unmistakably soft curve of his belly.
Connor's voice doesn't falter as he keeps telling his story, but his eyes flick down to Hudson's middle and then dart quickly away, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks. But he still doesn't say anything about Hudson’s body.
Finally Hudson can't take it anymore. When Connor's talking about some new position they'll be folded into in episode 2 - "Audiences are really going to love that one," - Hudson scratches the back of his neck and says, as casually as he can, "Yeah, hope they still love it even with. You know."
"With what?" Connor asks, finally slowing his incessant chatter to frown in confusion, and Hudson sighs.
"Con, you can just say it. I know I got fat, and you actually look fucking stupid blathering on and not saying anything about it. Like, if I’d showed up with some wack haircut or an ugly tattoo you would’ve been ragging me since you walked in here, so go ahead." He looks down at his belly and gives it a rueful slap. "Hopefully Jacob's got some TV magic to make this look better on camera, or we might be getting a lot more angry fan complaints."
When he looks back up, Connor’s eyes are fixed on Hudson’s middle, the way it’s still jiggling slightly behind his thin t-shirt. Connor’s eyes have gone very dark. Something hot curls in Hudson’s blood that he forces back down.
“Okay, okay, sorry,” Connor says at last, tearing his eyes from Hudson’s stomach and going even redder in the cheeks. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But - Huddy, you gotta know that we’re not going to get any angry complaints. Probably just more horny love letters. Remember the amount of panties we got in the mail last season? Double it. No, triple—”
“The fuck are you on about?” Hudson says, getting a little annoyed. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better—”
“Have you been online at all?” Connor asks, and Hudson frowns..
“Not really. Not since I started, you know, putting on the weight, but—hey, what are you doing online? You told me you barely even use your cell phone anymore!”
“Right,” Connor says, rocking back on his heels and scratching the back of his neck. “And that was true, but then— a lot of paparazzi shots started coming out of you, and god you just looked so fucking hot, man, juicy and meaty and thighs like you could crush a watermelon—or my head—and you’d stopped sending me selfies! So what else was I supposed to jerk off to!”
“Sure,” Hudson says, pressing his thumb between his eyebrows because he can’t really process all of that right now. “But what’s—”
“And so I’ve been a little more online than usual, okay, I’ll admit it. And let me tell you, Hud. If people were horny for you before, it’s dialed up by ten thousand. Ten million. There are separate update accounts dedicated to your ass and tummy and thighs, I think even one for your—”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Hudson cuts him off, because his head is spinning a little bit. He takes a deep breath, tries not to get dizzy at the idea that Connor might be checking those update accounts regularly. Might be jacking off to them. “So,” he says faintly, “the fangirls of the world are into bears now, who fucking knew. Arc of the universe really does bend toward justice, as I believe Dr. King once said.”
Connor laughs out loud at that, and god, that sound, it warms something in Hudson straight to the core. All these months, he hadn’t dared to hope they would still—but Connor had already called him hot, so maybe—
“And…you?” Hudson asks, unable to keep the slightest bit of shyness from his voice. “You won’t mind having to act out sex scenes with a guy with some meat on his bones?”
“Mind?” Connor repeats, stepping closer until he’s crowding Hudson against the wall, hands reaching out to graze the soft sides of Hudson’s waist. “Hudson, I gotta be real with you, there’s a real chance I’m going to end up coming in my cock sock.”
Hudson’s mouth opens to laugh, but Connor gets there first, fitting his lips to Hudson’s and kissing him fiercely as both their chests shake with laughter. Connor’s hands roam Hudson’s sides and settle on his plush waist, giving just the slightest squeeze, but it’s enough to make Hudson gasp in Connor’s mouth, tugging on Connor’s hips to grind the hard length of his cock against him.
So maybe Shane can have a fat era. Maybe some fans will be pissed, maybe some will be turned on. Hudson finds he doesn’t really care either way. He’s got everything he needs right here.