(no subject)
TITLE: Restoration 1
AUTHOR: dragynflies
RATING: NC-17
Pairing: RPF: Jen/Hugh
SUMMARY: Takes place six years after Fascination
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don’t sue.
Author’s Note: Rebecca is Hugh’s daughter, just in case anyone didn’t know.
Thank you Mikki13 for the beta!!!
Well, what with all this RPF floating around...I dunno. Thought I'd try my usual fare in a different pairing ;) If people are interested, I'll continue it -- just throwing it out there cause I had some time to write today (joy!)
When you first heard the idea Oh, just a little reunion. Private, just for us. The cast, some of the crew, you’d scoffed. You were content again, back in England with your family and your friends. You didn’t want to go back to LA, to the smog and the hustle and bustle and utter…fakeness that everything in LA seemed to have.
You didn’t want to go back and see her with him.
But Jo looked so enthused for you, so excited You can see everyone again, you haven’t seen them for five years, won’t that be nice! and so you’d agreed. Sure, you’d meet everyone at the hotel, stay a night or two, there would be dinner and a private little party, but nothing big, and then you could go home to your wife and your children who’d grown up during your years on “House.”
You land in L.A. only to be met by a man with your name on a cardboard sign. Everyone at the airport is clutching a Starbucks cup in one hand, a cell phone in the other, and you can feel yourself going back in time.
The hotel is nice, of course, and you go to your room and flop down on your bed. Everyone is meeting for dinner tonight, but that’s another three hours away, so maybe you can go down to the pool, soak in the hot tub a little bit before you have to go be social.
You slip on some swim trunks and grab a towel, and wander down to the pool. You can hear giggles and splashes as you approach, and you think for a minute maybe you ought to just go back to your room because being splashed in the face by children is not your idea of “relaxing before dinner.”
You decide to check out the situation anyway, because the idea of the hot tub is far too tempting and the muscles in your back are aching from your too-long flight.
The giggles get louder as you get closer, and you’re steeling yourself for disappointment as you enter the pool room.
What you end up finding is not at all what you expected, and you think that perhaps a room full of splashing children might have been easier to deal with.
Jennifer Morrison Spencer is sitting in one of the poolside lounge chairs in a black one-piece swimsuit and a pair of yoga pants, a towel over her shoulders and wet hair spilling down her back. She is grinning at something, and you let your eyes follow her gaze.
A little girl in a bright green swimsuit is demonstrating her floating abilities in the pool. She is kicking and flailing her arms and altogether not really floating, it’s closer to thrashing about in the water, but Jen is clapping and cheering her on anyway.
You stay still, trying to decide what exactly you’re supposed to do. You knew she was going to be here, you knew he was going to be here, why are you surprised?
“Laurie, sweetie, come here!” Jen yells, and your head jerks up. Laurie?
“Mom, I’m swimming,” the little girl protests, but she doggy paddles over to the stairs and climbs out obediently.
“You swam very well,” Jen tells her, wrapping her in a giant striped beach towel before rubbing another towel over the girl’s dark hair, “but it’s time to dry off.”
The little girl is wriggling as her mother dries her off, carefully squeezing water from her dark hair, and you take a minute to look at Jen. Her hair is back to blonde (you forgot that was her natural color), and she’s wearing a pair of black rimmed glasses. She’s gained weight since you’ve seen her last - though she’s not remotely chubby by any definition. She just looks…softer, rounded out.
Her daughter is jumping now, and Jen keeps trying to dry her hair but you can see she’s fighting a losing battle. Funny, you always thought she’d have one of those children who listens perfectly and puts the other mothers to shame.
“Lauren Allison, sit down,” she says firmly, and the little girl stops wiggling and sits at her mother’s feet while Jen combs out the tangles in her hair.
You’ve almost decided to run when Lauren’s blue eyes find you, “Mommy, there’s a man,” she says, pointing, and you know you’re busted.
You watch Jen paste an automatic smile on her face before she follows where Lauren is pointing; probably expecting a fan, and when her eyes land on you she pales and drops the comb.
“You know what, Laurie?” she says, and you can hear a little tremble in her voice, “You can swim some more. Put on your floaties and stay in the shallow end, okay?”
Lauren looks a little puzzled, but she keeps her mouth shut smart kid and heads back into the pool.
Jen sits back in her chair and looks at you steadily, “Hugh,” she says, and then casts a nervous glance at her daughter.
“Hello, Jen,” you say, because you really don’t know exactly what you’re supposed to do. Meeting her at dinner would have been one thing -- you’d have been ready, but this is catching you off guard and you don’t like the way your tongue trips over the sounds of her name.
She gives you a little smile and tips her head at the chair next to her, and you sit down, “So when did you get here?” she asks you, polite conversation like you’re just friends.
“Just a bit ago,” you say, and you almost switch back into your American accent because you’re so used to using it when you speak to her, “Is that your little girl?”
She glances down at her hands, twisting her wedding ring, “Yeah. She’s mine,” she says simply, “Jesse’s got the baby.”
“How old?” you ask, and there is a little ball of nausea building in your stomach because dates are lining up and memories you try not to think about keep coming to the forefront of your mind, pieces of a puzzle.
“Natalie’s 5 months,” she said, then pokes at her stomach, “That’s why I’m stuck in the grandma swim suit…I still have a couple of pounds left…” her voice trails off and you can tell she’s avoiding the subject.
“How old is she?” you ask, pointing at the little girl in the swimming pool.
“She’ll be six,” she says softly, then sighs. It’s in that exact moment that the puzzle is complete and you think you might throw up.
“Lauren,” Jen says, and her voice is so strained that Lauren is up and out of the pool without even being asked to, “Lauren, I want you to meet someone. This is Mommy’s friend, Hugh.”
Lauren is dripping wet, leaving a little trail of water as she pads over to you to stand in front of you. You look at her little face and for a second all you can see is Rebecca at age 5.
“Hi, Hugh. You were on TV with my mommy,” Lauren says, and offers you a lopsided smile that you’ve seen before; both reflected in the mirror and when your own children smile at you.
You swallow hard and nod, “Yeah, yeah I was.”
“You sound different. You sound like my daddy, sort of,” Lauren says innocently, and you can see Jen clenching.
“Your daddy is from Australia,” you tell her, your eyes catching Jen’s, “I’m from England. It’s north of Australia.”
Lauren nods like she knows just what you’re talking about, and maybe she does. Jen’s smart, and of course she’d point out where Jesse was from on a map.
She glances at you, and she looks like she’s studying you. She reaches out and touches your chin, then touches hers. You can see the resemblance, you see it in Rebecca, but you wonder if Lauren notices.
“We need to get going, Laurie,” Jen says, sliding the towel around her daughter’s shoulders. Lauren looks at you one last time, a steady, deep look, before gripping the towel around her tiny little shoulders.
Jen stands up, picking up her bag and placing a guiding hand on Lauren’s shoulder.
“I’ll see you at dinner?” she asks, trying for casual and ending up someplace closer to anxious.
“Yeah,” you say, “I’ll be there.”
“Okay. And….Jo? My mom came with to watch the girls; Jesse and I…”
“Jo stayed home. With my children,” you add, casting a purposeful look at Lauren, “But I didn’t fly halfway across the world to spend time in my hotel room. I’ll be there.”
“Alright,” she mumbles, her eyes on the floor, “Maybe later we could…find some time to talk?”
You give her a dry little smile and nod, “Yeah. Probably not a bad idea.”
AUTHOR: dragynflies
RATING: NC-17
Pairing: RPF: Jen/Hugh
SUMMARY: Takes place six years after Fascination
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don’t sue.
Author’s Note: Rebecca is Hugh’s daughter, just in case anyone didn’t know.
Thank you Mikki13 for the beta!!!
Well, what with all this RPF floating around...I dunno. Thought I'd try my usual fare in a different pairing ;) If people are interested, I'll continue it -- just throwing it out there cause I had some time to write today (joy!)
When you first heard the idea Oh, just a little reunion. Private, just for us. The cast, some of the crew, you’d scoffed. You were content again, back in England with your family and your friends. You didn’t want to go back to LA, to the smog and the hustle and bustle and utter…fakeness that everything in LA seemed to have.
You didn’t want to go back and see her with him.
But Jo looked so enthused for you, so excited You can see everyone again, you haven’t seen them for five years, won’t that be nice! and so you’d agreed. Sure, you’d meet everyone at the hotel, stay a night or two, there would be dinner and a private little party, but nothing big, and then you could go home to your wife and your children who’d grown up during your years on “House.”
You land in L.A. only to be met by a man with your name on a cardboard sign. Everyone at the airport is clutching a Starbucks cup in one hand, a cell phone in the other, and you can feel yourself going back in time.
The hotel is nice, of course, and you go to your room and flop down on your bed. Everyone is meeting for dinner tonight, but that’s another three hours away, so maybe you can go down to the pool, soak in the hot tub a little bit before you have to go be social.
You slip on some swim trunks and grab a towel, and wander down to the pool. You can hear giggles and splashes as you approach, and you think for a minute maybe you ought to just go back to your room because being splashed in the face by children is not your idea of “relaxing before dinner.”
You decide to check out the situation anyway, because the idea of the hot tub is far too tempting and the muscles in your back are aching from your too-long flight.
The giggles get louder as you get closer, and you’re steeling yourself for disappointment as you enter the pool room.
What you end up finding is not at all what you expected, and you think that perhaps a room full of splashing children might have been easier to deal with.
Jennifer Morrison Spencer is sitting in one of the poolside lounge chairs in a black one-piece swimsuit and a pair of yoga pants, a towel over her shoulders and wet hair spilling down her back. She is grinning at something, and you let your eyes follow her gaze.
A little girl in a bright green swimsuit is demonstrating her floating abilities in the pool. She is kicking and flailing her arms and altogether not really floating, it’s closer to thrashing about in the water, but Jen is clapping and cheering her on anyway.
You stay still, trying to decide what exactly you’re supposed to do. You knew she was going to be here, you knew he was going to be here, why are you surprised?
“Laurie, sweetie, come here!” Jen yells, and your head jerks up. Laurie?
“Mom, I’m swimming,” the little girl protests, but she doggy paddles over to the stairs and climbs out obediently.
“You swam very well,” Jen tells her, wrapping her in a giant striped beach towel before rubbing another towel over the girl’s dark hair, “but it’s time to dry off.”
The little girl is wriggling as her mother dries her off, carefully squeezing water from her dark hair, and you take a minute to look at Jen. Her hair is back to blonde (you forgot that was her natural color), and she’s wearing a pair of black rimmed glasses. She’s gained weight since you’ve seen her last - though she’s not remotely chubby by any definition. She just looks…softer, rounded out.
Her daughter is jumping now, and Jen keeps trying to dry her hair but you can see she’s fighting a losing battle. Funny, you always thought she’d have one of those children who listens perfectly and puts the other mothers to shame.
“Lauren Allison, sit down,” she says firmly, and the little girl stops wiggling and sits at her mother’s feet while Jen combs out the tangles in her hair.
You’ve almost decided to run when Lauren’s blue eyes find you, “Mommy, there’s a man,” she says, pointing, and you know you’re busted.
You watch Jen paste an automatic smile on her face before she follows where Lauren is pointing; probably expecting a fan, and when her eyes land on you she pales and drops the comb.
“You know what, Laurie?” she says, and you can hear a little tremble in her voice, “You can swim some more. Put on your floaties and stay in the shallow end, okay?”
Lauren looks a little puzzled, but she keeps her mouth shut smart kid and heads back into the pool.
Jen sits back in her chair and looks at you steadily, “Hugh,” she says, and then casts a nervous glance at her daughter.
“Hello, Jen,” you say, because you really don’t know exactly what you’re supposed to do. Meeting her at dinner would have been one thing -- you’d have been ready, but this is catching you off guard and you don’t like the way your tongue trips over the sounds of her name.
She gives you a little smile and tips her head at the chair next to her, and you sit down, “So when did you get here?” she asks you, polite conversation like you’re just friends.
“Just a bit ago,” you say, and you almost switch back into your American accent because you’re so used to using it when you speak to her, “Is that your little girl?”
She glances down at her hands, twisting her wedding ring, “Yeah. She’s mine,” she says simply, “Jesse’s got the baby.”
“How old?” you ask, and there is a little ball of nausea building in your stomach because dates are lining up and memories you try not to think about keep coming to the forefront of your mind, pieces of a puzzle.
“Natalie’s 5 months,” she said, then pokes at her stomach, “That’s why I’m stuck in the grandma swim suit…I still have a couple of pounds left…” her voice trails off and you can tell she’s avoiding the subject.
“How old is she?” you ask, pointing at the little girl in the swimming pool.
“She’ll be six,” she says softly, then sighs. It’s in that exact moment that the puzzle is complete and you think you might throw up.
“Lauren,” Jen says, and her voice is so strained that Lauren is up and out of the pool without even being asked to, “Lauren, I want you to meet someone. This is Mommy’s friend, Hugh.”
Lauren is dripping wet, leaving a little trail of water as she pads over to you to stand in front of you. You look at her little face and for a second all you can see is Rebecca at age 5.
“Hi, Hugh. You were on TV with my mommy,” Lauren says, and offers you a lopsided smile that you’ve seen before; both reflected in the mirror and when your own children smile at you.
You swallow hard and nod, “Yeah, yeah I was.”
“You sound different. You sound like my daddy, sort of,” Lauren says innocently, and you can see Jen clenching.
“Your daddy is from Australia,” you tell her, your eyes catching Jen’s, “I’m from England. It’s north of Australia.”
Lauren nods like she knows just what you’re talking about, and maybe she does. Jen’s smart, and of course she’d point out where Jesse was from on a map.
She glances at you, and she looks like she’s studying you. She reaches out and touches your chin, then touches hers. You can see the resemblance, you see it in Rebecca, but you wonder if Lauren notices.
“We need to get going, Laurie,” Jen says, sliding the towel around her daughter’s shoulders. Lauren looks at you one last time, a steady, deep look, before gripping the towel around her tiny little shoulders.
Jen stands up, picking up her bag and placing a guiding hand on Lauren’s shoulder.
“I’ll see you at dinner?” she asks, trying for casual and ending up someplace closer to anxious.
“Yeah,” you say, “I’ll be there.”
“Okay. And….Jo? My mom came with to watch the girls; Jesse and I…”
“Jo stayed home. With my children,” you add, casting a purposeful look at Lauren, “But I didn’t fly halfway across the world to spend time in my hotel room. I’ll be there.”
“Alright,” she mumbles, her eyes on the floor, “Maybe later we could…find some time to talk?”
You give her a dry little smile and nod, “Yeah. Probably not a bad idea.”