Deppenport Sequel: Cool Guy
Hope it's as good as the original. It's kind of like the same thing from Jack's POV. But don't be turned off - this one's a tear jerker simply because Jack is so frank.
Title: Cool Guy
Author: irish_channel
Rating: PG-13-R for masturbation references.
Characters/Fandom: Deppenport (Johnny Depp/Jack Davenport)
Summary/Notes: I don’t own either of the aforementioned loverly people! Wish I owned Jack, though. I bet he’d be a freak in bed. Oops, did I say that out loud? Also, I’m writing from the POV of Johnny Depp, which is like writing from the POV of God. So it’s all fake, okay? Last time I checked, I couldn’t tan that well. His life. His skin cancer. Besides Johnny’s skin cancer, I’d like to dedicate this fic to abrabacon_trask, who encouraged me to write a sequel. Oh, by the way, this is a sequel to Funny Guy
Disclaimer: That long message under ‘summary’ you thought covered all the bases..? That was just getting started. Check THIS out: http://community.livejournal.com/pirategasm/1435883.html?#cutid1. Now THAT is a disclaimer.
Cool Guy
Johnny is a cool guy, but not in one of those annoying ways; not in a haughty way. Johnny is cool in a nonchalant way that makes you wonder if he’s really smart or really clueless, and Jack often wonders if Johnny cares or if he even knows.
Maybe, Jack thinks, it’s not even Johnny’s bloody fault. People are drawn to him, like flies to the light bulb, and Johnny carefully swats them away, mindful of their feelings sometimes. And sometimes not. Jack couldn’t always tell if Johnny was a nice person.
More to the point, Jack remembers when it started.
The illustrious ‘they’, whoever they may be, say that after excitement, or a near-death experience, people (men, Jack figures, but then, he never understood women), get a sudden rush of lust. Johnny is a good looking man in tight jeans and a tired old white work shirt, and thirteen feet is a long way up, especially when you are protected only by large, green boards. Jack could see Johnny’s nipple through the worn material. His foot slipped, and suddenly he was losing balance.
A shout for Cut! Let’s try it again.
He wakes at five, makes tea for Michelle in their shared trailer, makes a cup for himself, but rarely finishes it anymore. His showers get colder and colder, though the water gets hotter and hotter. Jack thinks about his sleeping wife in the next room (well, compartment, really), and thinks about Johnny. He thinks about cool, he thinks about brown nipples. His name is John. That’s not cool at all, Jack thinks. When Jack touches himself, suddenly he can’t think about Johnny anymore. He can only think about brown nipples, tan skin, cigarette husked voices, and tired white shirts. Because those are real.
Jack looks at himself in the mirror, and wonders what he would be like if he had a southern drawl, then scratches his beard.
Johnny forgets his lunch on the hottest day on the set so far. So Jack shares his tuna melt. Johnny eats his sandwich slowly, even though it’s two o’clock and he must be starving. Jack slows down, wondering if he’s being judged.
Johnny smiles. How’s Michelle?
Jack swallows. Fine.
Jack goes home and takes another shower; a hot one. He isn’t thinking about Michelle; he’s thinking about Johnny. He thinks about Americans, brown nipples, and cool.
When the steam clears, Jack looks into the mirror. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he tries to see Johnny in it.
Title: Cool Guy
Author: irish_channel
Rating: PG-13-R for masturbation references.
Characters/Fandom: Deppenport (Johnny Depp/Jack Davenport)
Summary/Notes: I don’t own either of the aforementioned loverly people! Wish I owned Jack, though. I bet he’d be a freak in bed. Oops, did I say that out loud? Also, I’m writing from the POV of Johnny Depp, which is like writing from the POV of God. So it’s all fake, okay? Last time I checked, I couldn’t tan that well. His life. His skin cancer. Besides Johnny’s skin cancer, I’d like to dedicate this fic to abrabacon_trask, who encouraged me to write a sequel. Oh, by the way, this is a sequel to Funny Guy
Disclaimer: That long message under ‘summary’ you thought covered all the bases..? That was just getting started. Check THIS out: http://community.livejournal.com/pirategasm/1435883.html?#cutid1. Now THAT is a disclaimer.
Cool Guy
Johnny is a cool guy, but not in one of those annoying ways; not in a haughty way. Johnny is cool in a nonchalant way that makes you wonder if he’s really smart or really clueless, and Jack often wonders if Johnny cares or if he even knows.
Maybe, Jack thinks, it’s not even Johnny’s bloody fault. People are drawn to him, like flies to the light bulb, and Johnny carefully swats them away, mindful of their feelings sometimes. And sometimes not. Jack couldn’t always tell if Johnny was a nice person.
More to the point, Jack remembers when it started.
The illustrious ‘they’, whoever they may be, say that after excitement, or a near-death experience, people (men, Jack figures, but then, he never understood women), get a sudden rush of lust. Johnny is a good looking man in tight jeans and a tired old white work shirt, and thirteen feet is a long way up, especially when you are protected only by large, green boards. Jack could see Johnny’s nipple through the worn material. His foot slipped, and suddenly he was losing balance.
A shout for Cut! Let’s try it again.
He wakes at five, makes tea for Michelle in their shared trailer, makes a cup for himself, but rarely finishes it anymore. His showers get colder and colder, though the water gets hotter and hotter. Jack thinks about his sleeping wife in the next room (well, compartment, really), and thinks about Johnny. He thinks about cool, he thinks about brown nipples. His name is John. That’s not cool at all, Jack thinks. When Jack touches himself, suddenly he can’t think about Johnny anymore. He can only think about brown nipples, tan skin, cigarette husked voices, and tired white shirts. Because those are real.
Jack looks at himself in the mirror, and wonders what he would be like if he had a southern drawl, then scratches his beard.
Johnny forgets his lunch on the hottest day on the set so far. So Jack shares his tuna melt. Johnny eats his sandwich slowly, even though it’s two o’clock and he must be starving. Jack slows down, wondering if he’s being judged.
Johnny smiles. How’s Michelle?
Jack swallows. Fine.
Jack goes home and takes another shower; a hot one. He isn’t thinking about Michelle; he’s thinking about Johnny. He thinks about Americans, brown nipples, and cool.
When the steam clears, Jack looks into the mirror. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he tries to see Johnny in it.