FICTION: We Don't Talk About It (Cera/Page)
We Don't Talk About It
People/Pairings: Michael Cera/Ellen Page
Rating: PG / Word Count: 466
Notes: If you live under a rock/are not as obsessed with Michael Cera as you should be: the red jacket really doesn't exist. Ellen in Juno. Michael at the Melbourne Superbad premiere. Michael helping SNL. Etc. Etc. I think I've made my point, which makes up for me writing RPF. DON'T BITE ME. Bite Sam instead. She tastes better, I promise.
She wore it through half of Juno and, even when they weren’t filming, it seemed to always be around. It become a lame joke on set, Ellen-and-her-red-jacket. At the end of the movie, the costume designer (a woman named Maurine who liked to measure a little too efficiently for his taste) boxed it up and gave it to her at the wrap party as a gift. Everybody laughed but Ellen let out a large chuckle of glee and immediately put it on over her (very little) black dress.
Later that night, after one six eight too many drinks between them, they’re laughing at anything and everything and stumbling out of the cab Jason called and into the hotel they’re both staying at for one more night.
Hours later, they’re laying on his bed, but neither of them are wondering how they got there, even though neither of them know. Instead, they let the silence sit between them as they both stare at the ceiling.
‘Hey, Juno?’
‘Hey, Paulie?’
They don’t say anything else because there’s nothing to say, not really. She’s got Ben, he’s got Maria. Not that it would make a difference if they didn’t. It wouldn’t, really. (It might.)
The next morning he wakes up to find her gone with the red sweat shirt in her place. There’s a piece of hotel stationary folded up like a little tent on top of it. He recognizes her messy scrawl, even hung over, instantly. The lopsided words simply read, Keep it.
And he does.
- -
The guys are just that - guys - so they don’t seem to notice just how frequent he wears the red jacket that’s just a smidge too small, but a reporter finally asks about it. He figures he shouldn’t be too surprised, what with wearing it to two premieres and a handful of other events that seemed to blend together in the last month of Superbad promotions.
He just laughs in response, makes a remark about how it’s comfy, and leaves it at that. Even as he says it, he wonders what paper the reporter works for and what the chances are that Ellen will end up reading it.
He knows they’re slim to none but he hopes she does anyway.
- -
It’s three months after filming that he finally sees her again. They text message occasionally - email even more sporadically - and they’re still friends, but friends-who-don’t-mention-the-night-of-the-wrap-party-slash-their-inappropriate-feelings-slash-their-significant-others-no-not-ever. Then he sees her what feels like every day for weeks on end and it’s like being on set all over again.
When she kisses his cheek during the photo shoot at the film festival in Toronto, he pretends that he’s Paulie and she’s Juno and this kind of behavior is perfectly normal.
They’re two teenagers in love after all.
People/Pairings: Michael Cera/Ellen Page
Rating: PG / Word Count: 466
Notes: If you live under a rock/are not as obsessed with Michael Cera as you should be: the red jacket really doesn't exist. Ellen in Juno. Michael at the Melbourne Superbad premiere. Michael helping SNL. Etc. Etc. I think I've made my point, which makes up for me writing RPF. DON'T BITE ME. Bite Sam instead. She tastes better, I promise.
She wore it through half of Juno and, even when they weren’t filming, it seemed to always be around. It become a lame joke on set, Ellen-and-her-red-jacket. At the end of the movie, the costume designer (a woman named Maurine who liked to measure a little too efficiently for his taste) boxed it up and gave it to her at the wrap party as a gift. Everybody laughed but Ellen let out a large chuckle of glee and immediately put it on over her (very little) black dress.
Later that night, after one six eight too many drinks between them, they’re laughing at anything and everything and stumbling out of the cab Jason called and into the hotel they’re both staying at for one more night.
Hours later, they’re laying on his bed, but neither of them are wondering how they got there, even though neither of them know. Instead, they let the silence sit between them as they both stare at the ceiling.
‘Hey, Juno?’
‘Hey, Paulie?’
They don’t say anything else because there’s nothing to say, not really. She’s got Ben, he’s got Maria. Not that it would make a difference if they didn’t. It wouldn’t, really. (It might.)
The next morning he wakes up to find her gone with the red sweat shirt in her place. There’s a piece of hotel stationary folded up like a little tent on top of it. He recognizes her messy scrawl, even hung over, instantly. The lopsided words simply read, Keep it.
And he does.
- -
The guys are just that - guys - so they don’t seem to notice just how frequent he wears the red jacket that’s just a smidge too small, but a reporter finally asks about it. He figures he shouldn’t be too surprised, what with wearing it to two premieres and a handful of other events that seemed to blend together in the last month of Superbad promotions.
He just laughs in response, makes a remark about how it’s comfy, and leaves it at that. Even as he says it, he wonders what paper the reporter works for and what the chances are that Ellen will end up reading it.
He knows they’re slim to none but he hopes she does anyway.
- -
It’s three months after filming that he finally sees her again. They text message occasionally - email even more sporadically - and they’re still friends, but friends-who-don’t-mention-the-night-of-the-wrap-party-slash-their-inappropriate-feelings-slash-their-significant-others-no-not-ever. Then he sees her what feels like every day for weeks on end and it’s like being on set all over again.
When she kisses his cheek during the photo shoot at the film festival in Toronto, he pretends that he’s Paulie and she’s Juno and this kind of behavior is perfectly normal.
They’re two teenagers in love after all.