(jensen/mary sue) Part 4 and Epilogue
Dec. 16th, 2009 10:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wellownedbkupPart 4:
He wakes before her on Sunday, where the light’s still pale and rosy and the city's barely made it to bed. She's turned toward him, face cast in shadows from the window. He's got his hand at her waist and he knows that this has to end. He can’t keep hold of her much longer without there being unnecessary baggage between them. He can hardly imagine what it will be like to return to Vancouver to questions about how he spent his time and the only response he’ll have is pining over another J named person.
She’s beautiful in this light, and it’s nothing at all to wish he had a camera to record this moment, or the talent to make this some kind of artwork. Hell, he’d like it if he could set into words exactly how he feels right now, too warm and full to be described.
She shifts just enough to tear his thoughts away from their building maelstrom, focusing instead on half-lidded eyes that sparkle in the growing light. She smiles, softly and hums a morning greeting without opening her mouth. He huffs a laugh and kisses the smile wider on her lips, giving himself that moment to enjoy.
“It’s too early to be awake, Jensen. Go back to sleep.”
Jensen grins, prodding her. She’s serious about leaving today, he knows. He hadn’t expected to stay this long in the city himself, to be honest… not since he’d already been there for a few weeks anyway. She says she has to get back to work, that she can’t shirk her responsibilities, though he can see how reluctant she is to say so.
It’s just heading toward dawn when she kisses him lingeringly. Her hair is hopelessly tangled and loose, and he finds himself wishing he had a whole vanity set to watch her go through her daily routine. As it is, he finds himself drawing her back down to him, knowing this time will likely be their last. He’s not foolish enough to call what they’ve been doing a relationship. He’s too mature for that; just as he understands he’s too old to try to deal with an unrequited crush by shifting the emotions off on a (hot) stranger.
Still. He likes her. He tells her so as she stands half dressed in front of the mirror, trying to put herself to rights. She chuckles softly, fingers swiftly tying up her hair in a knot.
“I’d hate to think you didn’t. This was a good weekend.”
He smirks at her, smug in the knowledge that she enjoyed herself because of him. And yet…. “Will you miss me?”
She turns to him, frame turned pink in the light of sunrise. The look on her face is puzzled, as if the question came from left field. “Of course, I’ll miss you! It’s not every weekend I get to spend time with such a nice and awesome guy.”
He tries not to let that comment hurt him. It wasn’t exactly the ringing endorsement of her feelings that he found himself wishing for. He knows that a weekend isn’t enough time to know someone at all. He just feels sick at having to fake again in front of cameras and friends. It’s been a weekend where he’s been nothing but himself, easy and comfortable in her presence. She looks at him curiously as he lets the silence stretch too long.
He’s about to say something, break the silence when she slips next to him on the bed, bare skin of her arms broken out in gooseflesh at the chill in the room. He runs a wide palm up her arm, slowing to rest on her shoulder. He doesn’t like feeling this naked, not when he can’t escape the helpless look in her eyes.
He cuts his glance and forces a grin that he knows passes for reality 9 times out of 10. “Look me up the next time you come to Vancouver. If we’re still filming, I’ll give you a pass to the set.”
She sighs softly and kisses his forehead before moving away to the night table and the notepad sitting there. “Whether I ever make it to Vancouver or not, don’t let that stop you from talking to me. You’ve already got my phone number.” She throws a sultry grin over her shoulder before going back to whatever she’s writing. “It’s not that I don’t think you’ll be too busy to remember a little nobody like me…” she says softly, ripping the top page off and sliding back up to lie beside him, offering the paper like an olive branch. “But there’s no way I’ll ever be able to forget you or this weekend. You gotta believe that.”
“We’ll always have Paris?” he asks, a half-smile curving his lips.
“Something like that,” she whispers, kissing his smile away until there’s no more talk of the weekend’s end.
Epilogue:
No one’s more surprised than she is to receive a ticket to join him as a Plus One at the People’s Choice Awards the following January. He’s written her an email or three, between holidays at home and filming in the coldest locale known to man. His texts are more frequent, just letting her know he’s thinking of her, or that she’s as much a part of his life as anyone else he calls a friend. She tells a friend or two about it, when they wonder why she’s smiling at odd times of day. It’s little surprise they don’t believe her, pictorial proof notwithstanding.
That’s why she’s so shocked to get a call from his PA, informing her that her airfare, hotel stay and wardrobe have been taken care of, so long as she promises to take off to attend. She says yes immediately, just glad to have the chance to be back with him again.
It really is no surprise, though, that her hotel room is really his hotel room. She’s in his arms almost before the door closes, relishing his open grin, however tired it is. “Missed me that much?” he asks, knowing full well the answer.
She punches his bicep lightly and kisses him. “Like you thought I was going to say no? Yeah, right.”
Her friends have very little to say when she’s beside him on the red carpet, and even less as he kisses her on his way up to receive the award for Favorite Sci-Fi/Fantasy Show.
He wakes before her on Sunday, where the light’s still pale and rosy and the city's barely made it to bed. She's turned toward him, face cast in shadows from the window. He's got his hand at her waist and he knows that this has to end. He can’t keep hold of her much longer without there being unnecessary baggage between them. He can hardly imagine what it will be like to return to Vancouver to questions about how he spent his time and the only response he’ll have is pining over another J named person.
She’s beautiful in this light, and it’s nothing at all to wish he had a camera to record this moment, or the talent to make this some kind of artwork. Hell, he’d like it if he could set into words exactly how he feels right now, too warm and full to be described.
She shifts just enough to tear his thoughts away from their building maelstrom, focusing instead on half-lidded eyes that sparkle in the growing light. She smiles, softly and hums a morning greeting without opening her mouth. He huffs a laugh and kisses the smile wider on her lips, giving himself that moment to enjoy.
“It’s too early to be awake, Jensen. Go back to sleep.”
Jensen grins, prodding her. She’s serious about leaving today, he knows. He hadn’t expected to stay this long in the city himself, to be honest… not since he’d already been there for a few weeks anyway. She says she has to get back to work, that she can’t shirk her responsibilities, though he can see how reluctant she is to say so.
It’s just heading toward dawn when she kisses him lingeringly. Her hair is hopelessly tangled and loose, and he finds himself wishing he had a whole vanity set to watch her go through her daily routine. As it is, he finds himself drawing her back down to him, knowing this time will likely be their last. He’s not foolish enough to call what they’ve been doing a relationship. He’s too mature for that; just as he understands he’s too old to try to deal with an unrequited crush by shifting the emotions off on a (hot) stranger.
Still. He likes her. He tells her so as she stands half dressed in front of the mirror, trying to put herself to rights. She chuckles softly, fingers swiftly tying up her hair in a knot.
“I’d hate to think you didn’t. This was a good weekend.”
He smirks at her, smug in the knowledge that she enjoyed herself because of him. And yet…. “Will you miss me?”
She turns to him, frame turned pink in the light of sunrise. The look on her face is puzzled, as if the question came from left field. “Of course, I’ll miss you! It’s not every weekend I get to spend time with such a nice and awesome guy.”
He tries not to let that comment hurt him. It wasn’t exactly the ringing endorsement of her feelings that he found himself wishing for. He knows that a weekend isn’t enough time to know someone at all. He just feels sick at having to fake again in front of cameras and friends. It’s been a weekend where he’s been nothing but himself, easy and comfortable in her presence. She looks at him curiously as he lets the silence stretch too long.
He’s about to say something, break the silence when she slips next to him on the bed, bare skin of her arms broken out in gooseflesh at the chill in the room. He runs a wide palm up her arm, slowing to rest on her shoulder. He doesn’t like feeling this naked, not when he can’t escape the helpless look in her eyes.
He cuts his glance and forces a grin that he knows passes for reality 9 times out of 10. “Look me up the next time you come to Vancouver. If we’re still filming, I’ll give you a pass to the set.”
She sighs softly and kisses his forehead before moving away to the night table and the notepad sitting there. “Whether I ever make it to Vancouver or not, don’t let that stop you from talking to me. You’ve already got my phone number.” She throws a sultry grin over her shoulder before going back to whatever she’s writing. “It’s not that I don’t think you’ll be too busy to remember a little nobody like me…” she says softly, ripping the top page off and sliding back up to lie beside him, offering the paper like an olive branch. “But there’s no way I’ll ever be able to forget you or this weekend. You gotta believe that.”
“We’ll always have Paris?” he asks, a half-smile curving his lips.
“Something like that,” she whispers, kissing his smile away until there’s no more talk of the weekend’s end.
Epilogue:
No one’s more surprised than she is to receive a ticket to join him as a Plus One at the People’s Choice Awards the following January. He’s written her an email or three, between holidays at home and filming in the coldest locale known to man. His texts are more frequent, just letting her know he’s thinking of her, or that she’s as much a part of his life as anyone else he calls a friend. She tells a friend or two about it, when they wonder why she’s smiling at odd times of day. It’s little surprise they don’t believe her, pictorial proof notwithstanding.
That’s why she’s so shocked to get a call from his PA, informing her that her airfare, hotel stay and wardrobe have been taken care of, so long as she promises to take off to attend. She says yes immediately, just glad to have the chance to be back with him again.
It really is no surprise, though, that her hotel room is really his hotel room. She’s in his arms almost before the door closes, relishing his open grin, however tired it is. “Missed me that much?” he asks, knowing full well the answer.
She punches his bicep lightly and kisses him. “Like you thought I was going to say no? Yeah, right.”
Her friends have very little to say when she’s beside him on the red carpet, and even less as he kisses her on his way up to receive the award for Favorite Sci-Fi/Fantasy Show.
