Of Cut Curls and Lonely Evenings 16.3
Title: Of Cut Curls and Lonely Evenings
Fandom: RPS
Story: Highway: Business Loop 16.3
Characters: Alan Davies and Robert Sean Leonard
Authors: michelleann68 + evila_elf = evila_ann
Prompt: none
Word Count: 1425
Rating: PG
Summary: What happens when it is too late for Alan to phone Robert? He writes a letter, of course!
Authors’ Notes: Feel free to friend us if you want to read a day ahead of the communities.
Click here for the timeline If you need to get caught up or relive the good old times.
Previous story:
Trying My Best
Alan walked in the door and shivered. It was an unusually cool summer day and he had gone off and forgotten to bring an overcoat. He had also picked today to get his hair cut. Piper generally did a nice job on his hair--well there was the time she encouraged him to get hair extensions for a year and he went around being mistaken for Weird Al--but today his crown of curls were abused because she had broke up with her girlfriend of six years. In her zeal to discuss, or vent, her scissors mirrored her aggression and he ended up with most of his curls missing. She had apologized profusely, but what was done was done. He had picked up some of the snipped hair to mourn over, putting on a little show so that Piper would feel better, before he left.
He rubbed his ears to warm them up, no longer protected by a few curls. It felt weird not to have the curls cling to his hand as he carded it through his near naked scalp. He laughed as he thought that one saving grace about not seeing Robert for four months was that his hair now had time to regrow. He knew how Robert loved any excuse to run his hands through his hair.
Alan hurried into his flat and out of the cold, heading into the kitchen with his grocery bag and with intention of making something nice and warm to eat. He thought of making a quick call to Robert, to tease him about the shorn hair, but a glance to the kitchen clock told him that it was much later than he had realized it was. The clouds outside had completely screwed with his sense of time, so it was too late to distress his boyfriend. Robert would already be well into the House shoot, and this was an occasion that called for full attention. He scratched his head, the small cut hairs tickling his scalp, and decided to shower first, eat and maybe mope some more later.
Shower done and hair dried in record time, Alan heated up a can of soup and plopped himself down in front of the telly, flipping channels and finally stopping on an Arsenal game. He still loved the team, a lot, but since he had met Robert, some of the passion for the game had seemed to fade. Maybe it was just that his heart only held room for one love. He glanced at the VCR clock as he blew on his soup to cool it, willing the time to go backwards. There was nothing like a chilly day to make him want someone to snuggle up to, or at least be in contact with someone who knew how to warm him by power of speech. Alan turned off the telly and stood, careful not to spill his soup, and made his way over to his desk, digging around in the drawers until he found a tablet of paper. He set the bowl down on a coaster and started to write.
Dear Robert,
By the time this letter sails your way, this will all be old news, but it is too late to call. I know you had said that I could call you day or night, but I know the joys of having an angry director stare me down from taking a call in mid-shoot.
I went out to the shops today and stocked up on groceries for the week. I stopped by Ivan's fruit stand and picked up a quart of strawberries in your memory. I remember how much you loved them, and I can still remember how your eyes lit up when you took that first bite. We didn't get much further, but it was fun to at least attempt to eat them together. Tonight I will make a little strawberry shortcake and smile at that memory. I also picked up oranges and grapes, they looked too good to resist, but aren't as exciting to talk about.
Martin at the bakery was wondering where you had gone off too. He missed talking American TV with an actual American. I told him you were back working and he seemed surprised that you were in the industry. He thought you were just a 'normal' guy. I told him that next time we chatted I would pass on a hello from him and tell you that he is very disappointed in the direction that Weeds has taken, and he misses the good ole days of series 1 and 2.
Bessie is still doing her best to keep me warm at night, but her warmth is not as fulfilling as yours. I warm her up each night and take her into bed. It has made a big difference for my back, that has still been a little achy. It has really started to warm up, weather wise, so pretty soon I will be freezing Bessie before taking her with me to bed.
I went to dinner last night at my parent’s house. Traci joined me and they all had a good time teasing me. We had spaghetti with marinara sauce. Of course the rest of the room added meatballs. The whole family was together and we played poker with toothpicks and had a great time. Joan and sis really missed you and asked about when you would be this way again, then they teased us both and threatened to make a trip to the states so you could take them to Disneyland. There was no stopping the wine, or them, all night. It was fun, but I missed not having you a part of it.
Rodger is not doing well. He is just getting weaker, but he is still ornery and has not lost his spunk. Traci is giving me daily e-mails so I can keep up with how he is. He has been my cat (even though he lives with her) for almost sixteen years. He was there when I won the new comic award. The world will be very different without Rodger in it, and I am not sure what I feel, I just know this sadness tinges things that remind me of him.
I have an audition tomorrow. I have been lucky the last few years, keeping busy enough not to attend auditions, but this is a proper movie, and it seems like a good role for me. I am going to keep mum on details until I hear more.
David called me back, and we are getting together for lunch to discuss Jonathan Creek details. They are still polishing up the last two scripts, but it looks like four episodes and then a Christmas special. Caroline is also returning to the program, so that is great. I rang her up and we are going to catch up over tea in a few weeks.
Things are picking up which only means I have enough distractions to keep me from missing you every moment of the day. I know by the time you get this, we will have talked about everything that is in this letter, but it was nice to apply pen to paper and draft you a short note to let you know that I miss you and will count the days until you can keep me warm all night long.
Loving you from way over here in Islington,
Yours ever more,
Alan
Alan folded up the letter and put it in an envelope. Two licks and a firm press and the letter was sealed inside. He grabbed his address book and scrawled out Robert's LA address on the front. After he stamped it, he went into the kitchen and set it on the table under his flat keys, so he could post it when he left the next morning.
He was still feeling a little sad and lonely, but the letter had helped, and the thought of calling Robert the next day helped even more. He felt a little better; he had found a way to connect with Robert across the miles, but they would talk tomorrow and that improved his sprits considerably.
The game now over, he switched off the telly and picked up a new book. It was still early for bed, so he figured that it was a novel idea to get lost in the new novel. After he stopped laughing at his own lame jokes, he picked up the book, curled up on the couch, and turned to page one.
16.04 Pen to Paper
Fandom: RPS
Story: Highway: Business Loop 16.3
Characters: Alan Davies and Robert Sean Leonard
Authors: michelleann68 + evila_elf = evila_ann
Prompt: none
Word Count: 1425
Rating: PG
Summary: What happens when it is too late for Alan to phone Robert? He writes a letter, of course!
Authors’ Notes: Feel free to friend us if you want to read a day ahead of the communities.
Click here for the timeline If you need to get caught up or relive the good old times.
Previous story:
Trying My Best
Alan walked in the door and shivered. It was an unusually cool summer day and he had gone off and forgotten to bring an overcoat. He had also picked today to get his hair cut. Piper generally did a nice job on his hair--well there was the time she encouraged him to get hair extensions for a year and he went around being mistaken for Weird Al--but today his crown of curls were abused because she had broke up with her girlfriend of six years. In her zeal to discuss, or vent, her scissors mirrored her aggression and he ended up with most of his curls missing. She had apologized profusely, but what was done was done. He had picked up some of the snipped hair to mourn over, putting on a little show so that Piper would feel better, before he left.
He rubbed his ears to warm them up, no longer protected by a few curls. It felt weird not to have the curls cling to his hand as he carded it through his near naked scalp. He laughed as he thought that one saving grace about not seeing Robert for four months was that his hair now had time to regrow. He knew how Robert loved any excuse to run his hands through his hair.
Alan hurried into his flat and out of the cold, heading into the kitchen with his grocery bag and with intention of making something nice and warm to eat. He thought of making a quick call to Robert, to tease him about the shorn hair, but a glance to the kitchen clock told him that it was much later than he had realized it was. The clouds outside had completely screwed with his sense of time, so it was too late to distress his boyfriend. Robert would already be well into the House shoot, and this was an occasion that called for full attention. He scratched his head, the small cut hairs tickling his scalp, and decided to shower first, eat and maybe mope some more later.
Shower done and hair dried in record time, Alan heated up a can of soup and plopped himself down in front of the telly, flipping channels and finally stopping on an Arsenal game. He still loved the team, a lot, but since he had met Robert, some of the passion for the game had seemed to fade. Maybe it was just that his heart only held room for one love. He glanced at the VCR clock as he blew on his soup to cool it, willing the time to go backwards. There was nothing like a chilly day to make him want someone to snuggle up to, or at least be in contact with someone who knew how to warm him by power of speech. Alan turned off the telly and stood, careful not to spill his soup, and made his way over to his desk, digging around in the drawers until he found a tablet of paper. He set the bowl down on a coaster and started to write.
Dear Robert,
By the time this letter sails your way, this will all be old news, but it is too late to call. I know you had said that I could call you day or night, but I know the joys of having an angry director stare me down from taking a call in mid-shoot.
I went out to the shops today and stocked up on groceries for the week. I stopped by Ivan's fruit stand and picked up a quart of strawberries in your memory. I remember how much you loved them, and I can still remember how your eyes lit up when you took that first bite. We didn't get much further, but it was fun to at least attempt to eat them together. Tonight I will make a little strawberry shortcake and smile at that memory. I also picked up oranges and grapes, they looked too good to resist, but aren't as exciting to talk about.
Martin at the bakery was wondering where you had gone off too. He missed talking American TV with an actual American. I told him you were back working and he seemed surprised that you were in the industry. He thought you were just a 'normal' guy. I told him that next time we chatted I would pass on a hello from him and tell you that he is very disappointed in the direction that Weeds has taken, and he misses the good ole days of series 1 and 2.
Bessie is still doing her best to keep me warm at night, but her warmth is not as fulfilling as yours. I warm her up each night and take her into bed. It has made a big difference for my back, that has still been a little achy. It has really started to warm up, weather wise, so pretty soon I will be freezing Bessie before taking her with me to bed.
I went to dinner last night at my parent’s house. Traci joined me and they all had a good time teasing me. We had spaghetti with marinara sauce. Of course the rest of the room added meatballs. The whole family was together and we played poker with toothpicks and had a great time. Joan and sis really missed you and asked about when you would be this way again, then they teased us both and threatened to make a trip to the states so you could take them to Disneyland. There was no stopping the wine, or them, all night. It was fun, but I missed not having you a part of it.
Rodger is not doing well. He is just getting weaker, but he is still ornery and has not lost his spunk. Traci is giving me daily e-mails so I can keep up with how he is. He has been my cat (even though he lives with her) for almost sixteen years. He was there when I won the new comic award. The world will be very different without Rodger in it, and I am not sure what I feel, I just know this sadness tinges things that remind me of him.
I have an audition tomorrow. I have been lucky the last few years, keeping busy enough not to attend auditions, but this is a proper movie, and it seems like a good role for me. I am going to keep mum on details until I hear more.
David called me back, and we are getting together for lunch to discuss Jonathan Creek details. They are still polishing up the last two scripts, but it looks like four episodes and then a Christmas special. Caroline is also returning to the program, so that is great. I rang her up and we are going to catch up over tea in a few weeks.
Things are picking up which only means I have enough distractions to keep me from missing you every moment of the day. I know by the time you get this, we will have talked about everything that is in this letter, but it was nice to apply pen to paper and draft you a short note to let you know that I miss you and will count the days until you can keep me warm all night long.
Loving you from way over here in Islington,
Yours ever more,
Alan
Alan folded up the letter and put it in an envelope. Two licks and a firm press and the letter was sealed inside. He grabbed his address book and scrawled out Robert's LA address on the front. After he stamped it, he went into the kitchen and set it on the table under his flat keys, so he could post it when he left the next morning.
He was still feeling a little sad and lonely, but the letter had helped, and the thought of calling Robert the next day helped even more. He felt a little better; he had found a way to connect with Robert across the miles, but they would talk tomorrow and that improved his sprits considerably.
The game now over, he switched off the telly and picked up a new book. It was still early for bed, so he figured that it was a novel idea to get lost in the new novel. After he stopped laughing at his own lame jokes, he picked up the book, curled up on the couch, and turned to page one.
16.04 Pen to Paper