I'm finally posting this (More R/K fic)
A wave of alcohol-induced calm flows over me, replacing the anxiety I would be feeling when faced with a large crowd at a popular awards show. It was my first real public appearance promoting New Moon with Taylor and Kristen and I just wanted to reduce my nerves. The presentation of the trailer went well, though I stumbled a bit on a few words. All three of us are backstage together now. I just want to feel her smooth porcelain skin, so unthinkingly, I curl my arm around Kristen, lightly fingering her bare shoulder.
She whispers to me through clenched teeth, “Rob, they’re taking pictures. We’re not supposed to be touching...like that.”
Even if we are backstage at an awards show, it’s still public enough that I shouldn’t be touching her that intimately, with a MTV photographer taking pictures in the vicinity.
“But I want you. I want to touch you, and feel you. Can we not be Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart for one minute? Can’t it just be us right now?”
The glint in her eyes has always warred with her words. Her protests would speak of the demands of our bosses, our coworkers, her now-ex-boyfriend, the press. Not that she really cares what those people think. She just wants to be known for her work rather than her social life. For one brief moment, her eyes reveal her true feelings, when our world simply consists of the pleasure we find in each other.
“No,” she quietly continues her tirade, “it needs to be you and me. You know that. And you’re drunk, so just... get away from me.” She shoves me away with more force than I could have imagined from such a tiny person. Maybe I had more drinks than I thought.
We have to restrict ourselves much more now, per Summit’s orders. I can’t even touch my girlfriend the way I want to, the way I should be able to, in public. Sometimes I miss how much lighter our interactions used to be, like when we were filming our first little movie together in Portland. Now, I couldn’t swoop in and slap her bum whenever I felt like it. Cameras could be lurking anywhere. I tend to have a habit of intimately touching Kristen at the most inappropriate times, and I definitely haven’t been careful about who might be watching.
“I don’t care, Kris.” I want to ease the tension between us. I discreetly trace small circles at the base of her back to let her know I’m still here despite her physical and emotional withdrawal from me. As I attempt to soothe her, my mind drifts back to the nostalgia of earlier days:
My hand found purchase across Kristen’s backside. She stared at me angrily as soon as I committed the heinous act. Her eyebrow arched.
“The press is here; MTV actually. Real professional, Pattinson,” she muttered.
I glanced behind me and looked down at my feet bashfully, pretending not to notice. “Oh, didn’t see ‘em.”
“Fucking liar,” she mouthed squarely to my face as she stalked closer and her eyes met mine.
“You’re cute when you’re pissed.” I retorted with an obnoxious smirk on my face.
“Shut up.” She turned to walk away.
“You liked it,” I coughed.
“What did you just say?” she whirled to face me again.
“I think you heard me, Kristen.”
“I’d slap you for saying that but we’d be wasting our time. You’d just need to get your makeup done again. And I’m not stooping to your level. Somebody needs to be professional around here.”
Despite her chastising tone, I felt compelled to lean down and meet her stern gaze.
“Well, how about I stoop to your level?”
Damn. I couldn’t control what I did or what I said around this worldly girl. I moved in close enough to smell the fruity chewing gum on her breath, attempting to mask the cigarette she had inhaled during her break. Her lower lip looked red as if she had been chewing on it nervously. For a brief moment, I wondered. If she wasn’t seventeen, if she wasn’t my costar, if she didn’t have a boyfriend, what would I do right now? It was like some sort of force beyond my control emboldened me, now that we were away from the camera and in front of the prop school bus, to close the gap between our faces.
“Rob.” Her voice abruptly changed, the anger replaced by lust. I had waited so long for this acknowledgment that my feelings were reciprocated.
“Kristen,” I breathed.
“Forget about screwing up your makeup,” she added, prolonging the moment, warning me that I could still back out of whatever was happening.
She stood on her tiptoes and let our lips touch. She didn’t grab me by the shoulders or pull me in for a sweet embrace. It wasn’t a movie kiss, nothing like our audition. It felt less innocent, not like Bella exploring Edward for the first time, but like how I imagined Kristen would kiss, with more force and experience behind it. There was a sense of urgency too, as if she were pushing us further over some forbidden line. I knew we could both get hurt if we crossed that line, but I longed for her so much that I didn’t care.
Her mouth parted slightly and I felt her tongue begin to flick out. She hooked her fingers in the belt loops of my pants. My hands reached up and entangled themselves in her hair. I couldn’t get enough of her. I wanted to feel her all around me. I started panting, but she unexpectedly pulled away.
“Don’t...stop. I want you closer.”
“Rob, if I don’t walk away now, I’m afraid I never will. I mean, I’m still...we can’t...”
“Look,” I replied tersely, irritated by our emotional tug-of-war, “I get it. This never happened. All work and no play, on the set from now on.” She would pull me toward her and then suddenly let go. I was always the one who ended up knocked flat on my ass.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
An alto singing voice snaps me out of the reverie of remembering our first real kiss. What I didn’t miss from those days was her blatant denial of our burgeoning feelings for one another. Certain forces still rein us in, but at least it’s clearer to us what we mean to each other.
Wait, is that... Kristen, singing?
“If you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it.”
She pops her hip and playfully dangles a hand in my face. Her earlier indignation had obviously lifted while I wasn’t paying attention.
“Looks like those rumors are about to come true, man,” Taylor laughs, tilting his head in Kristen’s direction. “She wants something from you.”
“You shoulda put a ring on it,” she sings again loudly. “Are you with us, Rob? I figured singing Beyoncé would get your attention. By the way, don’t tell anyone I did that. That little thing right there never happened.”
“Sure. That’s exactly what I said the day I smacked your ass and we kissed for the first time, as ourselves. You said you wouldn’t be able to stop. You were right. So, ready for commitment now, are we?”
“I’m glad I was right about that. And I love you, but no, not now. We’re young and have so much happening in our careers. Maybe someday...” she murmured so low that no one else could hear, planting a quick kiss on my cheek.
“But that dance, and that little kiss, just now, really never happened. Seriously,” she says to the photographer, plastering on a Hollywood smile.
She whispers to me through clenched teeth, “Rob, they’re taking pictures. We’re not supposed to be touching...like that.”
Even if we are backstage at an awards show, it’s still public enough that I shouldn’t be touching her that intimately, with a MTV photographer taking pictures in the vicinity.
“But I want you. I want to touch you, and feel you. Can we not be Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart for one minute? Can’t it just be us right now?”
The glint in her eyes has always warred with her words. Her protests would speak of the demands of our bosses, our coworkers, her now-ex-boyfriend, the press. Not that she really cares what those people think. She just wants to be known for her work rather than her social life. For one brief moment, her eyes reveal her true feelings, when our world simply consists of the pleasure we find in each other.
“No,” she quietly continues her tirade, “it needs to be you and me. You know that. And you’re drunk, so just... get away from me.” She shoves me away with more force than I could have imagined from such a tiny person. Maybe I had more drinks than I thought.
We have to restrict ourselves much more now, per Summit’s orders. I can’t even touch my girlfriend the way I want to, the way I should be able to, in public. Sometimes I miss how much lighter our interactions used to be, like when we were filming our first little movie together in Portland. Now, I couldn’t swoop in and slap her bum whenever I felt like it. Cameras could be lurking anywhere. I tend to have a habit of intimately touching Kristen at the most inappropriate times, and I definitely haven’t been careful about who might be watching.
“I don’t care, Kris.” I want to ease the tension between us. I discreetly trace small circles at the base of her back to let her know I’m still here despite her physical and emotional withdrawal from me. As I attempt to soothe her, my mind drifts back to the nostalgia of earlier days:
My hand found purchase across Kristen’s backside. She stared at me angrily as soon as I committed the heinous act. Her eyebrow arched.
“The press is here; MTV actually. Real professional, Pattinson,” she muttered.
I glanced behind me and looked down at my feet bashfully, pretending not to notice. “Oh, didn’t see ‘em.”
“Fucking liar,” she mouthed squarely to my face as she stalked closer and her eyes met mine.
“You’re cute when you’re pissed.” I retorted with an obnoxious smirk on my face.
“Shut up.” She turned to walk away.
“You liked it,” I coughed.
“What did you just say?” she whirled to face me again.
“I think you heard me, Kristen.”
“I’d slap you for saying that but we’d be wasting our time. You’d just need to get your makeup done again. And I’m not stooping to your level. Somebody needs to be professional around here.”
Despite her chastising tone, I felt compelled to lean down and meet her stern gaze.
“Well, how about I stoop to your level?”
Damn. I couldn’t control what I did or what I said around this worldly girl. I moved in close enough to smell the fruity chewing gum on her breath, attempting to mask the cigarette she had inhaled during her break. Her lower lip looked red as if she had been chewing on it nervously. For a brief moment, I wondered. If she wasn’t seventeen, if she wasn’t my costar, if she didn’t have a boyfriend, what would I do right now? It was like some sort of force beyond my control emboldened me, now that we were away from the camera and in front of the prop school bus, to close the gap between our faces.
“Rob.” Her voice abruptly changed, the anger replaced by lust. I had waited so long for this acknowledgment that my feelings were reciprocated.
“Kristen,” I breathed.
“Forget about screwing up your makeup,” she added, prolonging the moment, warning me that I could still back out of whatever was happening.
She stood on her tiptoes and let our lips touch. She didn’t grab me by the shoulders or pull me in for a sweet embrace. It wasn’t a movie kiss, nothing like our audition. It felt less innocent, not like Bella exploring Edward for the first time, but like how I imagined Kristen would kiss, with more force and experience behind it. There was a sense of urgency too, as if she were pushing us further over some forbidden line. I knew we could both get hurt if we crossed that line, but I longed for her so much that I didn’t care.
Her mouth parted slightly and I felt her tongue begin to flick out. She hooked her fingers in the belt loops of my pants. My hands reached up and entangled themselves in her hair. I couldn’t get enough of her. I wanted to feel her all around me. I started panting, but she unexpectedly pulled away.
“Don’t...stop. I want you closer.”
“Rob, if I don’t walk away now, I’m afraid I never will. I mean, I’m still...we can’t...”
“Look,” I replied tersely, irritated by our emotional tug-of-war, “I get it. This never happened. All work and no play, on the set from now on.” She would pull me toward her and then suddenly let go. I was always the one who ended up knocked flat on my ass.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
An alto singing voice snaps me out of the reverie of remembering our first real kiss. What I didn’t miss from those days was her blatant denial of our burgeoning feelings for one another. Certain forces still rein us in, but at least it’s clearer to us what we mean to each other.
Wait, is that... Kristen, singing?
“If you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it.”
She pops her hip and playfully dangles a hand in my face. Her earlier indignation had obviously lifted while I wasn’t paying attention.
“Looks like those rumors are about to come true, man,” Taylor laughs, tilting his head in Kristen’s direction. “She wants something from you.”
“You shoulda put a ring on it,” she sings again loudly. “Are you with us, Rob? I figured singing Beyoncé would get your attention. By the way, don’t tell anyone I did that. That little thing right there never happened.”
“Sure. That’s exactly what I said the day I smacked your ass and we kissed for the first time, as ourselves. You said you wouldn’t be able to stop. You were right. So, ready for commitment now, are we?”
“I’m glad I was right about that. And I love you, but no, not now. We’re young and have so much happening in our careers. Maybe someday...” she murmured so low that no one else could hear, planting a quick kiss on my cheek.
“But that dance, and that little kiss, just now, really never happened. Seriously,” she says to the photographer, plastering on a Hollywood smile.