It's Easy When There's a Script (30 Rock, Jack/Liz)
Title: It's Easy When There's a Script
Prompt: 100_situations #059. Hang
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Jack/Liz
Spoilers: "Cooter"
Word Count: 1,627
Rating: PG
Table: Number Two.
Summary: In such a short time, his life has turned into a Patrick Dempsey film.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue!
*
Jack has never been the type to fall in love gradually or to worry about telling a woman of his feelings for her. He's never been in love with his best friend. He's never had a female best friend. And he's certainly never been one to pine wistfully and romantically. Before now, that is.
In such a short time, his life has turned into a Patrick Dempsey film. Which is, quite frankly, the worst sort of cinematic mess for one's existence to become, save for a horror movie or any film where people burst into song outside of a concert hall. But it can't be helped or changed, and he has no idea what the future holds for him.
Sure, he's seen romantic comedies. Heard the plot of Made of Honor in detail from Jonathan -- he supposes that's why his mind is bringing up Patrick Dempsey -- though he honestly didn't pay attention to much of it. (Despite the fact that Jack openly didn't care, Jonathan persisted in recounting the storyline. It was rather irritating.) So he knows how these things are supposed to go. He has to fight with a lesser man, or at least a man less suited for Liz, for her affections. Then after some stops and starts and obvious sexual tension, comes the declarations of love and her running into his arms to share a romantic kiss.
But none of those romantic comedy conventions have anything to do with real life. (He should be happy, of course, that his current circumstances are merely somewhat reminiscent of big screen treacle.) Though he supposes he did push Dennis out of the way for reasons other than his quickly waning popularity and her need to not get drawn back into his web. Fine. He knows he didn't bump Dennis from TGS for only those reasons; there was also his very present jealousy at the thought of her going out to dinner with a man who wasn't him. But such a motivation -- one she is unaware of -- hardly counts as fighting for her affections. And he encouraged her to run to the airport after Floyd. That's almost sanctioning her loving someone else. Plus, he can imagine telling Liz how he's fallen utterly in love with her and, when he does, he doesn't picture it ending with her echoing his feelings.
Dear God, he's using the word 'feelings' without anyone else's prompting. This is what happens when you fall in love twice in a year; when the second person is a constant in your life. (Honestly: he suspects Liz might have been the first.) It changes a man. It's changed him.
If she loved him back, he supposes he'd be okay with these shifts. But, as it stands, it all makes him feel a bit pathetic. He isn't meant to wait for someone to love him; he's the type who can make a woman fall head over heels. He isn't supposed to have trouble getting over romantic troubles; he needs only a short period of time before he can begin again with someone new.
What he is supposed to be and who he usually is proves to be irrelevant now, for this is the predicament he's found himself in. Hopelessly in love with his best friend, flying back to New York every few days to ostensibly spend some time in the city -- he does actually miss the city; it's been his home for years -- and help her begin the long adoption process -- it is actually important to him that she become a mother; it's what she wants -- and spending a good amount of his time sitting on her couch and eating potato chips. (He convinced her to get rid of the Sabor de Soledad to right her menstrual cycle; it's ridiculous for her to let any part of her life mirror that of a gymnast's.)
"So," Liz says, "do you want to know what Kathy Geiss is doing?"
"Honestly, no," Jack replies. "I don't care to know the damage until I can come back and fix it."
"I'm not talking about any corporate stuff. I mean she's making them play that Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch song over the sound system. Every Friday. For, like, hours. While we're doing our dress rehearsal. One time, Josh started saying the lyrics from 'Good Vibrations' instead of the lines in the sketch and he didn't even know he was doing it. I'm pretty sure that if the building were on fire, we'd never be able to hear the announcement. Or we wouldn't notice it because we've conditioned ourselves to not pay attention."
"You're painting a picture of you on fire and are under the impression such an image wouldn't trouble me?"
"Well, odds are we won't get set on fire."
Jack sighs. "Regardless, I'm still concerned."
"Now am I, actually." She considers this for a moment, and then says, "Hey, how about you? Think you're going to get fired soon?"
"I can only hope. There's just so long a man can live without pens."
"Yeah, I don't get that. Why don't you bring in your own pens?"
"I tried. Security confiscated them because they weren't Government Issue. I suppose I could try to smuggle them in, but I wouldn't want to use the pens after they'd been where they'd need to go for them to be smuggled--"
"Gross."
"I agree wholeheartedly, Lemon. That's precisely why I haven't done it."
She frowns. "This is all my fault, you know. This crap that's going on with you."
"Well, even with your line of reasoning, it's my fault; I shouldn't have promoted you."
She tilts her head. "Yeah, why did you do that?"
"Because I know I can trust you. Even though you have run your mouth off to reporters and schemers, I know you didn't do any of it to be hurtful." He nods. This is part of the reason he wanted Liz as his successor, so he's sure it sounds like the whole truth to her. "A person must surround oneself with those who sabotage merely by accident."
"Then you must be super happy working in the Bush administration." She holds up her hand expectantly for a high five.
He eyes her palm. "I'm not happy. That's why I'm trying to get fired."
"Yeah, I know. But come on, that was a good zinger. An adequate zinger." She puts her hand down and right into the bag of Lay's. "Okay, it sucked." She stuffs three not-small chips into her mouth. God help him, he still finds her attractive. After she's done chewing: "I really do miss having you around all the time. And not just because of the Funky Bunch, or because you're the only person in my life who gives me advice that actually has some merit, or because you're my friend... Well, actually, I think that covers it. I miss you being my boss."
"And I miss you being my employee," he says.
If this were a bad romantic comedy -- or maybe even a good one -- Liz would gaze into his eyes and they'd share a meaningful look. A meaningful look that would be a sign of their obvious love, a love which would go ignored until it's almost too late. In real life, she's staring at the television as the TV Guide Channel scrolls by and announces any number of awful programs. And he's watching her, barely listening to the silly banter about the American Idol finale coming from the TVGC hosts. He's watching her and... feeling transparent in a way he rarely does. Feeling that if she were to look at him right now, she'd know exactly what he's thinking: he misses seeing her every day for reasons deeper than friendship. And such conviction about his obviousness makes him want to say it.
He does not. He can not. Absolutely can not. He has no idea how people allow themselves to be vulnerable without guarantees they had no reason to feel vulnerable in the first place. How anyone can make a declaration of love without being certain they'll receive one in return.
He's not even as brave as Patrick Dempsey. Or Hugh Grant. Or any number of men whom he is positively sure he could take in a fight, be it a street one or the sort with Queensberry rules.
He averts his eyes from her face, looking at his hands before he stares at the TV.
"So," she says, "what do you want to watch?"
"Perhaps I should try out one of those Star Wars movies you're so enamored with."
This wasn't even something he was planning on saying. Trying to make her happy has become a reflex for him.
Patrick Dempsey would have so much pity for him it's actually depressing to ponder.
"Oh, dude, seriously? You're going to love them. Well, the ones that don't suck. But I'll just let you watch the non-sucky ones. Well, maybe you won't like them. But you'll deal with it."
"I will. I've been through worse than sci-fi."
"That's the spirit."
She smiles only slightly, but it still manages to light up her whole face. He could tell her now, he wants to tell her now, but he doesn't. The problems haven't disappeared in the past few seconds.
Though they must. They will. Eternally hapless is one thing Jack Donaghy is not prepared to be. He'll just have to hang in there until things swing back in his favor. Until Liz looks at him the way he looks at her.
In the meantime, he'll be secretly in love. And watch sci-fi movies.
It won't be so bad. But it'll be so much better when she loves him back.
END
Prompt: 100_situations #059. Hang
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Jack/Liz
Spoilers: "Cooter"
Word Count: 1,627
Rating: PG
Table: Number Two.
Summary: In such a short time, his life has turned into a Patrick Dempsey film.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue!
*
Jack has never been the type to fall in love gradually or to worry about telling a woman of his feelings for her. He's never been in love with his best friend. He's never had a female best friend. And he's certainly never been one to pine wistfully and romantically. Before now, that is.
In such a short time, his life has turned into a Patrick Dempsey film. Which is, quite frankly, the worst sort of cinematic mess for one's existence to become, save for a horror movie or any film where people burst into song outside of a concert hall. But it can't be helped or changed, and he has no idea what the future holds for him.
Sure, he's seen romantic comedies. Heard the plot of Made of Honor in detail from Jonathan -- he supposes that's why his mind is bringing up Patrick Dempsey -- though he honestly didn't pay attention to much of it. (Despite the fact that Jack openly didn't care, Jonathan persisted in recounting the storyline. It was rather irritating.) So he knows how these things are supposed to go. He has to fight with a lesser man, or at least a man less suited for Liz, for her affections. Then after some stops and starts and obvious sexual tension, comes the declarations of love and her running into his arms to share a romantic kiss.
But none of those romantic comedy conventions have anything to do with real life. (He should be happy, of course, that his current circumstances are merely somewhat reminiscent of big screen treacle.) Though he supposes he did push Dennis out of the way for reasons other than his quickly waning popularity and her need to not get drawn back into his web. Fine. He knows he didn't bump Dennis from TGS for only those reasons; there was also his very present jealousy at the thought of her going out to dinner with a man who wasn't him. But such a motivation -- one she is unaware of -- hardly counts as fighting for her affections. And he encouraged her to run to the airport after Floyd. That's almost sanctioning her loving someone else. Plus, he can imagine telling Liz how he's fallen utterly in love with her and, when he does, he doesn't picture it ending with her echoing his feelings.
Dear God, he's using the word 'feelings' without anyone else's prompting. This is what happens when you fall in love twice in a year; when the second person is a constant in your life. (Honestly: he suspects Liz might have been the first.) It changes a man. It's changed him.
If she loved him back, he supposes he'd be okay with these shifts. But, as it stands, it all makes him feel a bit pathetic. He isn't meant to wait for someone to love him; he's the type who can make a woman fall head over heels. He isn't supposed to have trouble getting over romantic troubles; he needs only a short period of time before he can begin again with someone new.
What he is supposed to be and who he usually is proves to be irrelevant now, for this is the predicament he's found himself in. Hopelessly in love with his best friend, flying back to New York every few days to ostensibly spend some time in the city -- he does actually miss the city; it's been his home for years -- and help her begin the long adoption process -- it is actually important to him that she become a mother; it's what she wants -- and spending a good amount of his time sitting on her couch and eating potato chips. (He convinced her to get rid of the Sabor de Soledad to right her menstrual cycle; it's ridiculous for her to let any part of her life mirror that of a gymnast's.)
"So," Liz says, "do you want to know what Kathy Geiss is doing?"
"Honestly, no," Jack replies. "I don't care to know the damage until I can come back and fix it."
"I'm not talking about any corporate stuff. I mean she's making them play that Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch song over the sound system. Every Friday. For, like, hours. While we're doing our dress rehearsal. One time, Josh started saying the lyrics from 'Good Vibrations' instead of the lines in the sketch and he didn't even know he was doing it. I'm pretty sure that if the building were on fire, we'd never be able to hear the announcement. Or we wouldn't notice it because we've conditioned ourselves to not pay attention."
"You're painting a picture of you on fire and are under the impression such an image wouldn't trouble me?"
"Well, odds are we won't get set on fire."
Jack sighs. "Regardless, I'm still concerned."
"Now am I, actually." She considers this for a moment, and then says, "Hey, how about you? Think you're going to get fired soon?"
"I can only hope. There's just so long a man can live without pens."
"Yeah, I don't get that. Why don't you bring in your own pens?"
"I tried. Security confiscated them because they weren't Government Issue. I suppose I could try to smuggle them in, but I wouldn't want to use the pens after they'd been where they'd need to go for them to be smuggled--"
"Gross."
"I agree wholeheartedly, Lemon. That's precisely why I haven't done it."
She frowns. "This is all my fault, you know. This crap that's going on with you."
"Well, even with your line of reasoning, it's my fault; I shouldn't have promoted you."
She tilts her head. "Yeah, why did you do that?"
"Because I know I can trust you. Even though you have run your mouth off to reporters and schemers, I know you didn't do any of it to be hurtful." He nods. This is part of the reason he wanted Liz as his successor, so he's sure it sounds like the whole truth to her. "A person must surround oneself with those who sabotage merely by accident."
"Then you must be super happy working in the Bush administration." She holds up her hand expectantly for a high five.
He eyes her palm. "I'm not happy. That's why I'm trying to get fired."
"Yeah, I know. But come on, that was a good zinger. An adequate zinger." She puts her hand down and right into the bag of Lay's. "Okay, it sucked." She stuffs three not-small chips into her mouth. God help him, he still finds her attractive. After she's done chewing: "I really do miss having you around all the time. And not just because of the Funky Bunch, or because you're the only person in my life who gives me advice that actually has some merit, or because you're my friend... Well, actually, I think that covers it. I miss you being my boss."
"And I miss you being my employee," he says.
If this were a bad romantic comedy -- or maybe even a good one -- Liz would gaze into his eyes and they'd share a meaningful look. A meaningful look that would be a sign of their obvious love, a love which would go ignored until it's almost too late. In real life, she's staring at the television as the TV Guide Channel scrolls by and announces any number of awful programs. And he's watching her, barely listening to the silly banter about the American Idol finale coming from the TVGC hosts. He's watching her and... feeling transparent in a way he rarely does. Feeling that if she were to look at him right now, she'd know exactly what he's thinking: he misses seeing her every day for reasons deeper than friendship. And such conviction about his obviousness makes him want to say it.
He does not. He can not. Absolutely can not. He has no idea how people allow themselves to be vulnerable without guarantees they had no reason to feel vulnerable in the first place. How anyone can make a declaration of love without being certain they'll receive one in return.
He's not even as brave as Patrick Dempsey. Or Hugh Grant. Or any number of men whom he is positively sure he could take in a fight, be it a street one or the sort with Queensberry rules.
He averts his eyes from her face, looking at his hands before he stares at the TV.
"So," she says, "what do you want to watch?"
"Perhaps I should try out one of those Star Wars movies you're so enamored with."
This wasn't even something he was planning on saying. Trying to make her happy has become a reflex for him.
Patrick Dempsey would have so much pity for him it's actually depressing to ponder.
"Oh, dude, seriously? You're going to love them. Well, the ones that don't suck. But I'll just let you watch the non-sucky ones. Well, maybe you won't like them. But you'll deal with it."
"I will. I've been through worse than sci-fi."
"That's the spirit."
She smiles only slightly, but it still manages to light up her whole face. He could tell her now, he wants to tell her now, but he doesn't. The problems haven't disappeared in the past few seconds.
Though they must. They will. Eternally hapless is one thing Jack Donaghy is not prepared to be. He'll just have to hang in there until things swing back in his favor. Until Liz looks at him the way he looks at her.
In the meantime, he'll be secretly in love. And watch sci-fi movies.
It won't be so bad. But it'll be so much better when she loves him back.
END