Fic - We'll Get This Right Eventually (Kristin, Dominic/Kristin, RPF) pg-15, 1/1
Title: We'll Get This Right Eventually
Summary: First thing they teach you in acting class: never date a costar. Kristin thinks she should have paid a bit more attention.
Rating: pg-15
Author's Notes: 1,938 words. RPF. So not mine. I don't own these people and as far as I know they've never done these things. I have absolutely no idea where this came from. Feedback is a lovely, lovely thing.
It starts simply enough, innocently enough. She’s hired three days before shooting begins and it’s kind of like the break she didn’t know she needed. His hand slides into hers, warm and calloused, and there’s a moment, where they look at each other for a little too long and he smiles in a way she supposes he thinks is sexy. Kristin’s heart constricts and she pulls away.
She’s been here before.
(First thing they teach you in acting class: Never date a costar. And Kristin remembers sitting in the back of the room, coffee in hand, laughing because really, isn’t that just a cliché?
Sometimes she thinks she probably should have paid a bit more attention.)
-
“So, you think Linc’s finally met his match?”
Kristin smiles from behind her sunglasses. “I think she’s as good as he’s gonna get.”
“Yeah,” Dominic sighs and she thinks, momentarily, that he looks really, really good - all half-buttoned shirts and tight jeans and those damn sunglasses. “I just think it’s time for him to get laid. I mean, what’s a guy gotta do?”
“Tattoo himself all over, set his almost girlfriend up and still manage to be devilishly handsome?”
There’s a raise of an eyebrow, a smirk. “You don’t think I’m devilishly handsome?”
She snorts. “I think you know you’re pretty, okay?”
He smiles and she smiles and the moment lasts another beat before he gets up to leave. She supposes it could be considered flirting, this thing they do, but maybe it’s just him, his nature. It all boils down the fact that she really doesn’t know him that well and that’s probably the way it should stay.
-
Kristin’s not really used to having that many girlfriends - she’s not really sure why (her mother breathes words like intimidation and being too tall, sometimes, but Kristin just laughs and smiles and breathes that that’s ridiculous) but it’s always been the case, so imagine her surprise when her and Sarah hit it off right away.
“You know,” Sarah says, “I never realized how much I missed female interaction before you came along.”
Sarah initiates the conversation, seeking her out one afternoon and it takes Kristin off guard. It’s been her and Wentworth since day one, kind of like they were the cool kids on set, this exclusive pair, and she was the new girl who didn’t feel quite worthy. It’s a feeling she’s oddly familiar with - the cast of Judging Amy was already this big, close knit family when she came along, and even though she was there for months, it was so lonely. That experience pales in comparison to this, but Kristin just chalks it up to the sun and heat. Everything’s better when sunshine is involved.
“That bad?”
“Not at first, no. It was kind of nice at first actually. But it gets so tiring.”
She looks off into the distance and catches sight of Dominic and Wentworth across the way, laughing about something. She leans back in her chair, basking in the Texas sun and breathes, “Yeah, I can see how this would get tiring.”
They laugh and it’s a kindling of sorts, the start of a friendship. A week later she’s back in Vancouver, but Sarah emails her every week like clockwork, and they vow to get together the next time they’re in the same town.
-
Drive is a monumental failure, and she knew, really, that it wasn’t meant to be since day one, but it was a paycheck, and there are worse shows on TV and she’d been ridiculously hopeful. So they wrap up camp after just a few months in, and she returns home to Canada and tries not to feel the sense of failure seeping into her bones.
When she steps off the plane, the chill in the air is too much and she pulls her thin jacket tighter around herself.
Kristin longs for LA and Texas and misses the feel of the sun on her back. She’s not used to the cold anymore.
-
Her mother sets her up with this doctor who is a friend of a friend’s son and it goes pretty well at first. He’s cute, and handsome, but a tad bit bland, and she gives it her best shot and the relationship lasts a couple months longer than it should. It’s nice, though, the intimacy, and she’s missed the closeness people in relationships share, and he’s a nice substitute for what she really wants - even if she isn’t too sure what that is.
What it all boils down to, really, is the fact that Kristin’s just bored and the scripts have stopped coming and living with her mother was a tad bit easier to take when she wasn’t nagging on her twenty-four seven about the lack of male prospects in her life.
-
Brian, her agent, recruits her to come back in LA for a gala of sorts, to get her name out there. The strike is underway and Hollywood is stuck in this standstill of sorts, but the rich and famous never miss an excuse to throw a party, and she really can’t afford to miss a party, so she pretties herself up and goes and downs four glasses of champagne before dinner is even served.
Kristin always did hate these industry shindigs - fake people with faux smiles acting like they gave two shits. She’d really just rather not, thanks, to be quite honest, but she can’t live off her laurels forever and she really does miss working.
“Well, well, look who we have here.”
Kristin really isn’t sure why he’s there, but he is, and she turns at the sound of his voice and smiles softly.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Dom smiles back and she takes in his tux and pearly whites and that familiar fluttering happens deep inside her chest and she instinctively takes a step back.
“How are you?”
“Good, good,” he nods and hands her another glass of sparkling champagne. Their fingers brush against each other’s softly, fleetingly, and there’s a moment where they look at each other for a beat too long. It passes in the blink of an eye. “You?”
She shrugs. “You know.”
“I was sorry to hear about Drive.”
“I think I always knew it wasn’t anything to write home about.”
He’s always kind, always generous, and doesn’t say anything further, just smiles that smile and cocks his head to the side, regarding her oddly. “I don’t know anyone at my table, care to join me?”
Kristin looks over at her own table - filled with pretty little twenty-somethings that she recognized, but didn’t’ know and back towards him.
“Is that allowed?”
Dom laughs. “Who the fuck cares?”
-
They skip out on dessert and catch a cab up-town. She’s still starving - Hollywood is keen on small portions, and she’s always had a healthy appetite, so when he asks if she doesn’t mind stopping to grab a bite to eat, she’s ridiculously thankful. They sit in their formal attire in the back of some no-name dinner, her in her Dolce, him in his Armani and eat greasy food and drink diet cokes.
“So how is everything down south?”
Dom pauses mid chew to swallow. “Good. I think we all miss Sarah a little too much, especially Went,” they share a knowing smile, “but it’s good.”
Kristin fingers her veggie burger with her fork and steals one of his fries. “And Rebecca and the kids, how are they?”
He stills visibly and continues chewing for a long moment. “We’re actually,” he pauses, chuckles nervously. “We’re actually getting divorced.”
There’s a long moment where she stares a little too long, shocked, but covers it up with an “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Dom offers her a small little smile. “Me too.”
She doesn’t press any further, and he doesn’t offer any more information and they stay like that for a long time, chatting about the weather, work, Texas and its nice, easy.
They share a slice of Apple pie for dessert.
-
She calls him three weeks later after catching an old episode of North Shore on TV. They’ve exchanged emails, text messages, phone calls various times over the past month and it’s nothing but innocent banter and innuendo hidden behind shared smiles and soft laughter.
“You know,” she chuckles and she can feel his smile over the line. There’s the rustling sound of movement in the background and she pictures him with his feet propped up on the table in front of him, shirt half-buttoned. “I can’t ever imagine why you would have left that show, or, just why it was cancelled.”
“This coming from the women who starred in a show that was about a cross-country illegal drag race.”
“Hey!”
“Not funny yet?”
“Not yet.”
The phone call goes on for hours and they watch an old Lifetime movie - the one where the woman thinks she has an imaginary child - and come to the agreement that the fact that they both don’t have that particular skeleton in their closet makes them equals in the past mistakes department.
-
Truth of the matter is, she’s thought about it before. Him and her, together, separate but equal. She’s a woman, he’s a man, and he oozes that charisma and charm and she won’t lie about this specific truth: she had been taken with him from day one. And they flirted in the beginning and they sure as hell flirt now, and she knows enough to realize the comfortable silences and late night phone calls are edging into something different.
It’s odd, though, the way he makes her feel. All tingly and nervous, and self-conscious, like she’s not really sure where she stands with him. At least before, a year ago, when the flirted she knew nothing would ever come of it. It was innocent and always boiled down to the fact that he was married and she was not that type of women.
Only now he’s not and Kristin, ever so graceful, is struggling to find her footing.
It unnerves her. He unnerves her.
-
The next time they see each other is New Years. Another function, another dress. He still looks good, Armani really does suit him well, and this time they stick around a little longer before skipping out. The doctor’s long gone and so is Rebecca from what he’s told her, and they find that little dinner again and sit in the back and drink coffee and watch the countdown on the small TV in the corner.
“You know,” she ventures as she watches Dick Clark on the screen. “I’ve never been to Times Square on New Years.”
Dom smiles behind his coffee. His tie hangs loose around his neck, top button undone. He looks good. Sexy. She shifts in her seat. “You aren’t missing much, trust me.”
“Really?”
“Too many people, too much commotion,” he pauses and regards her softly. “I like this a whole heck of a lot better.”
They share a smile and that fluttering appears deep in her belly and something lodges in her throat. She swallows it with a little help from a sip of coffee. Dick Clark starts the countdown and they both look at the screen and then back at each other.
Dom raises his coffee cup and clinks it against hers. “Happy New Year, Kristin.”
She smiles effortlessly. “Happy New Year, Dom.”
Her leg rubs against his under the table as she shifts in her seat and his eyes catch hers as they share a smile. Kristin sips her coffee and makes a ritual wish for the future and hopes that wherever this year takes her, it brings him with it.
Summary: First thing they teach you in acting class: never date a costar. Kristin thinks she should have paid a bit more attention.
Rating: pg-15
Author's Notes: 1,938 words. RPF. So not mine. I don't own these people and as far as I know they've never done these things. I have absolutely no idea where this came from. Feedback is a lovely, lovely thing.
It starts simply enough, innocently enough. She’s hired three days before shooting begins and it’s kind of like the break she didn’t know she needed. His hand slides into hers, warm and calloused, and there’s a moment, where they look at each other for a little too long and he smiles in a way she supposes he thinks is sexy. Kristin’s heart constricts and she pulls away.
She’s been here before.
(First thing they teach you in acting class: Never date a costar. And Kristin remembers sitting in the back of the room, coffee in hand, laughing because really, isn’t that just a cliché?
Sometimes she thinks she probably should have paid a bit more attention.)
-
“So, you think Linc’s finally met his match?”
Kristin smiles from behind her sunglasses. “I think she’s as good as he’s gonna get.”
“Yeah,” Dominic sighs and she thinks, momentarily, that he looks really, really good - all half-buttoned shirts and tight jeans and those damn sunglasses. “I just think it’s time for him to get laid. I mean, what’s a guy gotta do?”
“Tattoo himself all over, set his almost girlfriend up and still manage to be devilishly handsome?”
There’s a raise of an eyebrow, a smirk. “You don’t think I’m devilishly handsome?”
She snorts. “I think you know you’re pretty, okay?”
He smiles and she smiles and the moment lasts another beat before he gets up to leave. She supposes it could be considered flirting, this thing they do, but maybe it’s just him, his nature. It all boils down the fact that she really doesn’t know him that well and that’s probably the way it should stay.
-
Kristin’s not really used to having that many girlfriends - she’s not really sure why (her mother breathes words like intimidation and being too tall, sometimes, but Kristin just laughs and smiles and breathes that that’s ridiculous) but it’s always been the case, so imagine her surprise when her and Sarah hit it off right away.
“You know,” Sarah says, “I never realized how much I missed female interaction before you came along.”
Sarah initiates the conversation, seeking her out one afternoon and it takes Kristin off guard. It’s been her and Wentworth since day one, kind of like they were the cool kids on set, this exclusive pair, and she was the new girl who didn’t feel quite worthy. It’s a feeling she’s oddly familiar with - the cast of Judging Amy was already this big, close knit family when she came along, and even though she was there for months, it was so lonely. That experience pales in comparison to this, but Kristin just chalks it up to the sun and heat. Everything’s better when sunshine is involved.
“That bad?”
“Not at first, no. It was kind of nice at first actually. But it gets so tiring.”
She looks off into the distance and catches sight of Dominic and Wentworth across the way, laughing about something. She leans back in her chair, basking in the Texas sun and breathes, “Yeah, I can see how this would get tiring.”
They laugh and it’s a kindling of sorts, the start of a friendship. A week later she’s back in Vancouver, but Sarah emails her every week like clockwork, and they vow to get together the next time they’re in the same town.
-
Drive is a monumental failure, and she knew, really, that it wasn’t meant to be since day one, but it was a paycheck, and there are worse shows on TV and she’d been ridiculously hopeful. So they wrap up camp after just a few months in, and she returns home to Canada and tries not to feel the sense of failure seeping into her bones.
When she steps off the plane, the chill in the air is too much and she pulls her thin jacket tighter around herself.
Kristin longs for LA and Texas and misses the feel of the sun on her back. She’s not used to the cold anymore.
-
Her mother sets her up with this doctor who is a friend of a friend’s son and it goes pretty well at first. He’s cute, and handsome, but a tad bit bland, and she gives it her best shot and the relationship lasts a couple months longer than it should. It’s nice, though, the intimacy, and she’s missed the closeness people in relationships share, and he’s a nice substitute for what she really wants - even if she isn’t too sure what that is.
What it all boils down to, really, is the fact that Kristin’s just bored and the scripts have stopped coming and living with her mother was a tad bit easier to take when she wasn’t nagging on her twenty-four seven about the lack of male prospects in her life.
-
Brian, her agent, recruits her to come back in LA for a gala of sorts, to get her name out there. The strike is underway and Hollywood is stuck in this standstill of sorts, but the rich and famous never miss an excuse to throw a party, and she really can’t afford to miss a party, so she pretties herself up and goes and downs four glasses of champagne before dinner is even served.
Kristin always did hate these industry shindigs - fake people with faux smiles acting like they gave two shits. She’d really just rather not, thanks, to be quite honest, but she can’t live off her laurels forever and she really does miss working.
“Well, well, look who we have here.”
Kristin really isn’t sure why he’s there, but he is, and she turns at the sound of his voice and smiles softly.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Dom smiles back and she takes in his tux and pearly whites and that familiar fluttering happens deep inside her chest and she instinctively takes a step back.
“How are you?”
“Good, good,” he nods and hands her another glass of sparkling champagne. Their fingers brush against each other’s softly, fleetingly, and there’s a moment where they look at each other for a beat too long. It passes in the blink of an eye. “You?”
She shrugs. “You know.”
“I was sorry to hear about Drive.”
“I think I always knew it wasn’t anything to write home about.”
He’s always kind, always generous, and doesn’t say anything further, just smiles that smile and cocks his head to the side, regarding her oddly. “I don’t know anyone at my table, care to join me?”
Kristin looks over at her own table - filled with pretty little twenty-somethings that she recognized, but didn’t’ know and back towards him.
“Is that allowed?”
Dom laughs. “Who the fuck cares?”
-
They skip out on dessert and catch a cab up-town. She’s still starving - Hollywood is keen on small portions, and she’s always had a healthy appetite, so when he asks if she doesn’t mind stopping to grab a bite to eat, she’s ridiculously thankful. They sit in their formal attire in the back of some no-name dinner, her in her Dolce, him in his Armani and eat greasy food and drink diet cokes.
“So how is everything down south?”
Dom pauses mid chew to swallow. “Good. I think we all miss Sarah a little too much, especially Went,” they share a knowing smile, “but it’s good.”
Kristin fingers her veggie burger with her fork and steals one of his fries. “And Rebecca and the kids, how are they?”
He stills visibly and continues chewing for a long moment. “We’re actually,” he pauses, chuckles nervously. “We’re actually getting divorced.”
There’s a long moment where she stares a little too long, shocked, but covers it up with an “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Dom offers her a small little smile. “Me too.”
She doesn’t press any further, and he doesn’t offer any more information and they stay like that for a long time, chatting about the weather, work, Texas and its nice, easy.
They share a slice of Apple pie for dessert.
-
She calls him three weeks later after catching an old episode of North Shore on TV. They’ve exchanged emails, text messages, phone calls various times over the past month and it’s nothing but innocent banter and innuendo hidden behind shared smiles and soft laughter.
“You know,” she chuckles and she can feel his smile over the line. There’s the rustling sound of movement in the background and she pictures him with his feet propped up on the table in front of him, shirt half-buttoned. “I can’t ever imagine why you would have left that show, or, just why it was cancelled.”
“This coming from the women who starred in a show that was about a cross-country illegal drag race.”
“Hey!”
“Not funny yet?”
“Not yet.”
The phone call goes on for hours and they watch an old Lifetime movie - the one where the woman thinks she has an imaginary child - and come to the agreement that the fact that they both don’t have that particular skeleton in their closet makes them equals in the past mistakes department.
-
Truth of the matter is, she’s thought about it before. Him and her, together, separate but equal. She’s a woman, he’s a man, and he oozes that charisma and charm and she won’t lie about this specific truth: she had been taken with him from day one. And they flirted in the beginning and they sure as hell flirt now, and she knows enough to realize the comfortable silences and late night phone calls are edging into something different.
It’s odd, though, the way he makes her feel. All tingly and nervous, and self-conscious, like she’s not really sure where she stands with him. At least before, a year ago, when the flirted she knew nothing would ever come of it. It was innocent and always boiled down to the fact that he was married and she was not that type of women.
Only now he’s not and Kristin, ever so graceful, is struggling to find her footing.
It unnerves her. He unnerves her.
-
The next time they see each other is New Years. Another function, another dress. He still looks good, Armani really does suit him well, and this time they stick around a little longer before skipping out. The doctor’s long gone and so is Rebecca from what he’s told her, and they find that little dinner again and sit in the back and drink coffee and watch the countdown on the small TV in the corner.
“You know,” she ventures as she watches Dick Clark on the screen. “I’ve never been to Times Square on New Years.”
Dom smiles behind his coffee. His tie hangs loose around his neck, top button undone. He looks good. Sexy. She shifts in her seat. “You aren’t missing much, trust me.”
“Really?”
“Too many people, too much commotion,” he pauses and regards her softly. “I like this a whole heck of a lot better.”
They share a smile and that fluttering appears deep in her belly and something lodges in her throat. She swallows it with a little help from a sip of coffee. Dick Clark starts the countdown and they both look at the screen and then back at each other.
Dom raises his coffee cup and clinks it against hers. “Happy New Year, Kristin.”
She smiles effortlessly. “Happy New Year, Dom.”
Her leg rubs against his under the table as she shifts in her seat and his eyes catch hers as they share a smile. Kristin sips her coffee and makes a ritual wish for the future and hopes that wherever this year takes her, it brings him with it.