And because I couldn't sleep...
My insomnia is your good fortune.
Title: Cameras
Author: brinshannara
Rating: PG
Fandom: GL (CC/JL) (RPS)
Summary: Set during the GL fan luncheon thingymabob.
Author's Note: Still ripptyd's fault. No disrespect meant to two amazing actors. This is a work of fiction and no conclusions should be drawn about the actors within.
You weren't prepared for this kind of emotion. Seeing them all again after not even a month shouldn't elicit this kind of reaction. But it does. Your face feels like it wants to break because you've been smiling like an idiot since you're so happy to see them all, but part of you just wants to cry because you know that this reunion will be over far too soon. And you'll go back out west, leaving them behind once again.
Leaving her behind again.
So when the photographer starts taking pictures of her, you watch for a moment before brazenly walking into the frame and wrapping your arms around her. She's surprised, at first, but goes with it just about seamlessly, like any good actor would. She slings her arms around your neck and yours are around her waist and your bodies are molding together. You both face towards the camera and allow the photographer to record these precious few minutes you have with each other.
It's always in front of a camera that you've felt most alive. Is it any wonder, then, that the most intimate moments you've ever had with her have always been recorded in some fashion? Whether taped for the show or for your series or now, for this photographer, the two of you always have a camera in front of you when you're at your closest with each other.
You don't know how long you stand there, pretending that the reason you're holding her is for the sake of the audience, but at one point she pulls away and you're instantly weakened by the loss of contact. But she smiles at you as she sees the disappointment on your face, even though you tried to keep it hidden, and keeps your arms around her waist as she turns around and leans back into you. Her hands rest atop your own, the warmth of her skin giving you comfort even as you sigh in quiet contentment at the weight of her in your arms.
You can smell her shampoo, her perfume, her hairspray and, you think, just there at the nape of her neck, you get a whiff of her scent. Not a chemical mixture that smells familiar, but a scent that is purely her. You close your eyes for a moment and think that you could stay like this forever, holding her, with her rubbing the top of your hand surreptitiously, comfortingly, while the photographer watches for your smiles and expressions and takes what seems like ten photos a second.
All too soon, it's over when your youngest co-star is invited into the shot and afterwards your character's lesbian mentor gets photographed with you two. And then it's over, no more photos. No more excuse to hold her. Losing the contact with her is too harsh, too hard, but when you finally have to let go of her for the last time, when you pull your arm back from her waist, you glance at her and see your pain reflected in her eyes.
She promises, quietly, that she'll see you tomorrow for lunch. You nod. And then she picks up her purse and walks out of the room and back into her perfect little life, taking your heart with her as she goes.
Title: Cameras
Author: brinshannara
Rating: PG
Fandom: GL (CC/JL) (RPS)
Summary: Set during the GL fan luncheon thingymabob.
Author's Note: Still ripptyd's fault. No disrespect meant to two amazing actors. This is a work of fiction and no conclusions should be drawn about the actors within.
You weren't prepared for this kind of emotion. Seeing them all again after not even a month shouldn't elicit this kind of reaction. But it does. Your face feels like it wants to break because you've been smiling like an idiot since you're so happy to see them all, but part of you just wants to cry because you know that this reunion will be over far too soon. And you'll go back out west, leaving them behind once again.
Leaving her behind again.
So when the photographer starts taking pictures of her, you watch for a moment before brazenly walking into the frame and wrapping your arms around her. She's surprised, at first, but goes with it just about seamlessly, like any good actor would. She slings her arms around your neck and yours are around her waist and your bodies are molding together. You both face towards the camera and allow the photographer to record these precious few minutes you have with each other.
It's always in front of a camera that you've felt most alive. Is it any wonder, then, that the most intimate moments you've ever had with her have always been recorded in some fashion? Whether taped for the show or for your series or now, for this photographer, the two of you always have a camera in front of you when you're at your closest with each other.
You don't know how long you stand there, pretending that the reason you're holding her is for the sake of the audience, but at one point she pulls away and you're instantly weakened by the loss of contact. But she smiles at you as she sees the disappointment on your face, even though you tried to keep it hidden, and keeps your arms around her waist as she turns around and leans back into you. Her hands rest atop your own, the warmth of her skin giving you comfort even as you sigh in quiet contentment at the weight of her in your arms.
You can smell her shampoo, her perfume, her hairspray and, you think, just there at the nape of her neck, you get a whiff of her scent. Not a chemical mixture that smells familiar, but a scent that is purely her. You close your eyes for a moment and think that you could stay like this forever, holding her, with her rubbing the top of your hand surreptitiously, comfortingly, while the photographer watches for your smiles and expressions and takes what seems like ten photos a second.
All too soon, it's over when your youngest co-star is invited into the shot and afterwards your character's lesbian mentor gets photographed with you two. And then it's over, no more photos. No more excuse to hold her. Losing the contact with her is too harsh, too hard, but when you finally have to let go of her for the last time, when you pull your arm back from her waist, you glance at her and see your pain reflected in her eyes.
She promises, quietly, that she'll see you tomorrow for lunch. You nod. And then she picks up her purse and walks out of the room and back into her perfect little life, taking your heart with her as she goes.