Potentially [RPF] (R)
Title: Potentially (Adverbs 1-b/3) [RPF]
Rating: R, just to be safe
Word Count: 2560
Spoilers: Yeah, right.
Summary: The final scene from ”Just…Maybe”, through Chris’s eyes.
I know my story sounds kind of like something out of a movie - social outcast from a place so cowtown that cows are offended by the association becomes breakout star of megahit tv show in a role that was written just for him - but I swear, it’s usually pretty normal, all things considered. Like, really normal. I don’t do a lot of partying, and I spend most of my free time curled up on my sofa watching movies. There are exceptions, like meeting Oprah, of course, but for the most part, Kurt’s life is far more interesting than my own.
Which is why I’m so stunned when I make my usual trip to Darren’s trailer so we can carpool home to find him wearing nothing more than a towel.
“Did I come at a bad time?” I ask, taking a step backward to retreat down the stairs that lead up to his door. Darren’s been kind of weird around me lately, and since Ryan just told us that we’re coming back tomorrow to film Blaine and Kurt’s first kiss, he’s been acting even stranger. Somehow, I don’t think catching him like this is going to help.
“No, it’s fine. I’m just…having some wardrobe malfunctions.” Darren’s voice is kind of squeaky, and his face s flushed, and it suddenly makes sense. I’m not really sure if I’m surprised, but I am kind of disappointed in him as he shifts from one foot to the other and babbles something about the cleaning staff and food coloring and just looks generally uncomfortable. I raise an eyebrow, and am just about to go back to my trailer when I feel his hand on my arm.
“Stay; please?” His face looks kind of weird, and his voice sounds strained, so I look into his eyes and try to figure out just what I did that was so wrong that I made an otherwise really cool guy so twitchy when he insists we need to talk.
”Great,” I think to myself. ”Another conversation where I have to pretend I’m not hurt. Not offended. Not wondering if it’s because I’m me or because I’m male. Great. Lovely timing. This won’t make the ride home highly uncomfortable, or anything.” I take a deep breath and nod slowly. “Yeah, I kind of thought you might want to after Ryan’s little surprise.” Not really knowing what else to do, I perch on the edge of his sofa and stare at my thighs. “Look, you’re a great guy, Darren. You’ve been a lot of fun to work with, and I’d like to think we’re friends now, but I know what you’re going to say, and if it’s all the same, I’d rather we just let it go unspoken, okay? It’s going to be weird, and that’s okay, but I don’t want to make this any weirder on you than it already is. The more we talk about it, I think, the more awkward it’ll be on screen, and we can’t let that happen. For better or worse, we’re stuck with this storyline, and I’d really like it if we can just remember that we aren’t Blaine and Kurt. We’re just Darren and Chris, and we’re both kind of weird, but we get along great, and have this really cool new friendship that I don’t want to see ruined just because you’re having second thoughts about having to kiss me.”
I’m trying to act like it’s no big deal; like this is all just so matter of fact, but he’s clearly getting more and more upset as I talk, and when he moves to sit beside me, he takes extra care to make sure his towel’s covering him down to his knees. ”What? Does he think I’m just going to jump him right here in his trailer?” I hate this. I thought Darren was different. That he wouldn’t be like this.
It kills me to think that I was wrong.
“You’re right,” he blurts. “I am nervous. I’ve never kissed a guy before, and even though I know it can’t be that different from kissing a girl, I’m just…scared of fucking it up.” His voice cracks and I notice for the first time just how hard he’s shaking, and I feel myself softening toward him. “Maybe we should practice.” His voice is shaking, and I try to blink away my surprise. “I mean,” he says, his voice lowering; “it’s really important to me that we get it right.” He goes on about the reactions people have had to “Teenage Dream,” and how much he wants to get it right for them; how he wants people to look at Blaine and Kurt, and think that it’s beautiful. Natural. Just as good as anyone else.
My breath catches in my chest and I can feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes as I begin to tell him how much it would have meant for me to see something like that just a few years ago, and I’m jolted from the thought when I feel him take my face in his hands and his lips against mine. His lips are soft, but firm, and they feel amazing. I do my best to hold back, to not respond so much that I freak him out, but I can’t completely ignore how insistent he’s being, and when I feel his teeth grabbing onto my lower lip, I almost freeze completely still when he breaks the kiss and jerks back. If “oh, shit” were in the dictionary, I'm pretty sure a picture of his face would be beside it. His lips curl into his mouth and over his teeth, and his breathing is riding that fine line between steady and ragged as the frantic scrambling of his hands catches my eye and draws it downward.
“Oh. My…” My cheeks begin to burn as my eyes grow wide and I feel my grasp on reality begin to slip away from me because I know that I can’t possibly be seeing what I think I’m seeing, but the way Darren’s shifting in his seat and looking as if he wants the world to swallow him alive makes me wonder how valid reality really is, anyway. I’m trying my best to look away, but my eyes just can’t seem to leave his lap. Specifically, the way the towel he’s got draped over it is raised and pointing at my face. He stammers an apology and I finally manage to lift my head. I have no idea where to look (because, to be perfectly honest, there’s nothing in his trailer that’s even half as interesting to look at), so I kind of look at everything. I try to choke out something comforting, and am pretty sure I’m failing when I hear him groan softly.
“I am utterly mortified with myself right now, but please, Chris, if I’ve made you feel bad in any way…don’t. Please.” I raise my hand to place it on his shoulder, but think better of it and get up instead. Suddenly, I’m having trouble trusting myself to not wrap my arms around him the way I did that night he found out Ryan wanted to keep him around for a while. “If anything, this just proves I should have tried talking to you about this sooner,” he whispers before taking a deep breath and letting it out, collapsing like a rag doll. “I was just too chickenshit to be honest with you about it, and it’s my own fault for bungling things this fabulously. I didn’t hate it, Chris. Quite the opposite, really, and that’s kind of been my problem for a while, now. I’ve kind of, maybe, been thinking about you for months.”
I’m staring at him now, our eyes locked like two hands in a pair of those paper finger cuffs I used to love when I was younger, and I’m rubbing my hands up and down my arms before I realize I’m hugging myself. What he’s saying makes no sense, but Darren’s not the kind of guy who’d kid about this kind of thing, and I’m struggling to cut it apart and piece it back together again in a way that makes some sort of sense. “Thinking about me how, exactly? For how long?” I try to sound nonchalant, but my voice is thick, and I know that it’s betraying me, because he’s acting even twitchier, and he can barely manage more than a mumbled answer.
“Like…that. I don’t know how long, exactly. I mean, it kind of started that first night at dinner, and never really stopped. I think sushi was when I really knew what it meant, I guess.”
“Sushi?” I blink. That’s the only other time I’ve seen him like this before, and it’s also the only time we’ve ever displayed any real physical affection as ourselves, as opposed to our characters. I mentally rewind the last few months and remember the way he grabbed on to me like a drowning man after a buoy, the way he kept looking at me, and how I kept telling myself that it was just because he was excited we’d be working together. I’m replaying all of it over and over in my head, and I’m focusing on it so much that I almost don’t register what he’s saying.
“I kept wondering what it would be like to kiss you… if you’d taste anything like the pear sake I kept drinking to try and distract myself from thinking about it…much sweeter… just the right amount of spice.”
There’s no real way I can explain what he’s saying to me. Darren thinking about me, wanting me, kissing me…it just doesn’t compute. “You’re not making any sense, Darren. You’re straight, and I’m a guy. It’s like trying to put a square peg in a round hole; it just doesn’t compute at all.”
I hear a slam, and I give a jump as I see the pocketwatch Blaine keeps in his blazer roll toward my feet as Darren’s voice rings throughout the small enclosed space we’re sharing.
“Who the fuck cares if it doesn’t compute? Look,” he says, dropping his voice a little and flicking his thumb against his bare chest “I don’t care about wrapping some nice neat little bow on what I’m feeling right now. It’d be great if I could, and I’d probably lose a lot less sleep over it, but when you talk about fitting pegs into holes, my mind’s not exactly going to children’s toys, if you know what I’m saying.”
He then goes on some rant about the Sorting Hat, and I’d be tempted to laugh if it weren’t for the way his eyes are burning hot and hard into mine, and the fact that he’s not just gotten up from his seat, but begun to approach me. I can feel the heat of his body as he approaches, and smell the sharp spicy scent of his skin as he comes closer and closer.
“Yeah, I like girls. I’ve always liked girls; but that doesn’t mean that I can’t like you, too. Because…I do. Like you, Chris. Not because you’re a guy, and not in spite of being one, but because you’re you.”
He’s so close, and he’s looking up at me through those dark lashes of his, and it finally hits me that this is really happening. This isn’t Blaine and Kurt, and this isn’t Darren, my friend; this is a Darren I haven’t seen before, and my heart begins to race as my mind flashes over all the time we’ve spent together since we’ve met, and how many times I’ve found myself wondering why I couldn’t find anyone that would feel as easy a fit as he did. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his lower lip curls inward just a little bit too much when he laughs, the way I sometimes find myself touching the passenger seat after I drop him off on my way home from Pasadena after a day’s work, and before I can think twice, I begin to lower my face to meet his.
His hands caress my cheeks as his lips find mine, and I allow myself to let the walls down just enough to realize just how much he means what he’s saying. His lips are sliding across mine with such intensity, such precision, that it feels almost as if we’re dancing. I’m still not sure it’s a good idea to let myself give in, but it just feels so right, that I begin to melt just before he softly pulls away and breathes his words in a voice that’s barely above a whisper.
“I’m not saying I know what this means, or why you’ve gotten to me like no one ever has before - guy or girl - all I know is that I’m happiest when you’re around, and I miss you when you’re gone, and if that means I’m less a straight expressway than a mostly steady road with one fantastic detour through the mountains, so be it. Because I’m not one to let opportunities slip through my fingers if I can help it, and whether or not you can find it in yourself to go out on a limb and give me a shot, to give this a shot, I will never, ever regret allowing myself to reexamine who I thought I was because of you and everything you are, because loving you is one opportunity I don’t want to miss.”
My stomach is churning and my chest feels tight as I look him in the eye and zero in on the two words I can’t believe he just said.
“Loving me?”
“Maybe,” he nods, lacing his fingers through mine. His voice is louder than before, but still low and husky as he continues. “Everything I’m feeling about you is so new, and so strange, but in this really amazing kind of way, and I don’t know that I’m actually there yet, but…I think it’s entirely possible that I’m on my way.”
”Faint heart never won fair lady,” I think to myself, ”and almost nothing worth having ever comes without its risks.” I take the smallest possible step closer to him, slipping my right hand from his grasp. I don’t even let myself breathe as I brush over his face with my fingers before carefully tilting his chin upward to meet me. I’m cautious, but allow myself to really taste him this time; the salt of his lips and the tang of his tongue as I lightly flick my own against it, and the only thing I can really think is just how perfect it all feels, and how the daydreams I’ve been trying to prevent never managed to live up to the reality that is the feel of Darren’s five o’clock shadow as it scratches against my face.
We remain like that for a few moments, just fading into each other as the rest of the world disappears, until I whisper softly in his ear. “Maybe, just maybe, if we do it like that tomorrow, the audience will think it’s as beautiful and natural as we do.” He gives a soft laugh against my cheek, and I feel a familiar smile spread across his face.
“I think,” he grins, “it’s got some real potential.”
Laser eye Surgery
Rating: R, just to be safe
Word Count: 2560
Spoilers: Yeah, right.
Summary: The final scene from ”Just…Maybe”, through Chris’s eyes.
I know my story sounds kind of like something out of a movie - social outcast from a place so cowtown that cows are offended by the association becomes breakout star of megahit tv show in a role that was written just for him - but I swear, it’s usually pretty normal, all things considered. Like, really normal. I don’t do a lot of partying, and I spend most of my free time curled up on my sofa watching movies. There are exceptions, like meeting Oprah, of course, but for the most part, Kurt’s life is far more interesting than my own.
Which is why I’m so stunned when I make my usual trip to Darren’s trailer so we can carpool home to find him wearing nothing more than a towel.
“Did I come at a bad time?” I ask, taking a step backward to retreat down the stairs that lead up to his door. Darren’s been kind of weird around me lately, and since Ryan just told us that we’re coming back tomorrow to film Blaine and Kurt’s first kiss, he’s been acting even stranger. Somehow, I don’t think catching him like this is going to help.
“No, it’s fine. I’m just…having some wardrobe malfunctions.” Darren’s voice is kind of squeaky, and his face s flushed, and it suddenly makes sense. I’m not really sure if I’m surprised, but I am kind of disappointed in him as he shifts from one foot to the other and babbles something about the cleaning staff and food coloring and just looks generally uncomfortable. I raise an eyebrow, and am just about to go back to my trailer when I feel his hand on my arm.
“Stay; please?” His face looks kind of weird, and his voice sounds strained, so I look into his eyes and try to figure out just what I did that was so wrong that I made an otherwise really cool guy so twitchy when he insists we need to talk.
”Great,” I think to myself. ”Another conversation where I have to pretend I’m not hurt. Not offended. Not wondering if it’s because I’m me or because I’m male. Great. Lovely timing. This won’t make the ride home highly uncomfortable, or anything.” I take a deep breath and nod slowly. “Yeah, I kind of thought you might want to after Ryan’s little surprise.” Not really knowing what else to do, I perch on the edge of his sofa and stare at my thighs. “Look, you’re a great guy, Darren. You’ve been a lot of fun to work with, and I’d like to think we’re friends now, but I know what you’re going to say, and if it’s all the same, I’d rather we just let it go unspoken, okay? It’s going to be weird, and that’s okay, but I don’t want to make this any weirder on you than it already is. The more we talk about it, I think, the more awkward it’ll be on screen, and we can’t let that happen. For better or worse, we’re stuck with this storyline, and I’d really like it if we can just remember that we aren’t Blaine and Kurt. We’re just Darren and Chris, and we’re both kind of weird, but we get along great, and have this really cool new friendship that I don’t want to see ruined just because you’re having second thoughts about having to kiss me.”
I’m trying to act like it’s no big deal; like this is all just so matter of fact, but he’s clearly getting more and more upset as I talk, and when he moves to sit beside me, he takes extra care to make sure his towel’s covering him down to his knees. ”What? Does he think I’m just going to jump him right here in his trailer?” I hate this. I thought Darren was different. That he wouldn’t be like this.
It kills me to think that I was wrong.
“You’re right,” he blurts. “I am nervous. I’ve never kissed a guy before, and even though I know it can’t be that different from kissing a girl, I’m just…scared of fucking it up.” His voice cracks and I notice for the first time just how hard he’s shaking, and I feel myself softening toward him. “Maybe we should practice.” His voice is shaking, and I try to blink away my surprise. “I mean,” he says, his voice lowering; “it’s really important to me that we get it right.” He goes on about the reactions people have had to “Teenage Dream,” and how much he wants to get it right for them; how he wants people to look at Blaine and Kurt, and think that it’s beautiful. Natural. Just as good as anyone else.
My breath catches in my chest and I can feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes as I begin to tell him how much it would have meant for me to see something like that just a few years ago, and I’m jolted from the thought when I feel him take my face in his hands and his lips against mine. His lips are soft, but firm, and they feel amazing. I do my best to hold back, to not respond so much that I freak him out, but I can’t completely ignore how insistent he’s being, and when I feel his teeth grabbing onto my lower lip, I almost freeze completely still when he breaks the kiss and jerks back. If “oh, shit” were in the dictionary, I'm pretty sure a picture of his face would be beside it. His lips curl into his mouth and over his teeth, and his breathing is riding that fine line between steady and ragged as the frantic scrambling of his hands catches my eye and draws it downward.
“Oh. My…” My cheeks begin to burn as my eyes grow wide and I feel my grasp on reality begin to slip away from me because I know that I can’t possibly be seeing what I think I’m seeing, but the way Darren’s shifting in his seat and looking as if he wants the world to swallow him alive makes me wonder how valid reality really is, anyway. I’m trying my best to look away, but my eyes just can’t seem to leave his lap. Specifically, the way the towel he’s got draped over it is raised and pointing at my face. He stammers an apology and I finally manage to lift my head. I have no idea where to look (because, to be perfectly honest, there’s nothing in his trailer that’s even half as interesting to look at), so I kind of look at everything. I try to choke out something comforting, and am pretty sure I’m failing when I hear him groan softly.
“I am utterly mortified with myself right now, but please, Chris, if I’ve made you feel bad in any way…don’t. Please.” I raise my hand to place it on his shoulder, but think better of it and get up instead. Suddenly, I’m having trouble trusting myself to not wrap my arms around him the way I did that night he found out Ryan wanted to keep him around for a while. “If anything, this just proves I should have tried talking to you about this sooner,” he whispers before taking a deep breath and letting it out, collapsing like a rag doll. “I was just too chickenshit to be honest with you about it, and it’s my own fault for bungling things this fabulously. I didn’t hate it, Chris. Quite the opposite, really, and that’s kind of been my problem for a while, now. I’ve kind of, maybe, been thinking about you for months.”
I’m staring at him now, our eyes locked like two hands in a pair of those paper finger cuffs I used to love when I was younger, and I’m rubbing my hands up and down my arms before I realize I’m hugging myself. What he’s saying makes no sense, but Darren’s not the kind of guy who’d kid about this kind of thing, and I’m struggling to cut it apart and piece it back together again in a way that makes some sort of sense. “Thinking about me how, exactly? For how long?” I try to sound nonchalant, but my voice is thick, and I know that it’s betraying me, because he’s acting even twitchier, and he can barely manage more than a mumbled answer.
“Like…that. I don’t know how long, exactly. I mean, it kind of started that first night at dinner, and never really stopped. I think sushi was when I really knew what it meant, I guess.”
“Sushi?” I blink. That’s the only other time I’ve seen him like this before, and it’s also the only time we’ve ever displayed any real physical affection as ourselves, as opposed to our characters. I mentally rewind the last few months and remember the way he grabbed on to me like a drowning man after a buoy, the way he kept looking at me, and how I kept telling myself that it was just because he was excited we’d be working together. I’m replaying all of it over and over in my head, and I’m focusing on it so much that I almost don’t register what he’s saying.
“I kept wondering what it would be like to kiss you… if you’d taste anything like the pear sake I kept drinking to try and distract myself from thinking about it…much sweeter… just the right amount of spice.”
There’s no real way I can explain what he’s saying to me. Darren thinking about me, wanting me, kissing me…it just doesn’t compute. “You’re not making any sense, Darren. You’re straight, and I’m a guy. It’s like trying to put a square peg in a round hole; it just doesn’t compute at all.”
I hear a slam, and I give a jump as I see the pocketwatch Blaine keeps in his blazer roll toward my feet as Darren’s voice rings throughout the small enclosed space we’re sharing.
“Who the fuck cares if it doesn’t compute? Look,” he says, dropping his voice a little and flicking his thumb against his bare chest “I don’t care about wrapping some nice neat little bow on what I’m feeling right now. It’d be great if I could, and I’d probably lose a lot less sleep over it, but when you talk about fitting pegs into holes, my mind’s not exactly going to children’s toys, if you know what I’m saying.”
He then goes on some rant about the Sorting Hat, and I’d be tempted to laugh if it weren’t for the way his eyes are burning hot and hard into mine, and the fact that he’s not just gotten up from his seat, but begun to approach me. I can feel the heat of his body as he approaches, and smell the sharp spicy scent of his skin as he comes closer and closer.
“Yeah, I like girls. I’ve always liked girls; but that doesn’t mean that I can’t like you, too. Because…I do. Like you, Chris. Not because you’re a guy, and not in spite of being one, but because you’re you.”
He’s so close, and he’s looking up at me through those dark lashes of his, and it finally hits me that this is really happening. This isn’t Blaine and Kurt, and this isn’t Darren, my friend; this is a Darren I haven’t seen before, and my heart begins to race as my mind flashes over all the time we’ve spent together since we’ve met, and how many times I’ve found myself wondering why I couldn’t find anyone that would feel as easy a fit as he did. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his lower lip curls inward just a little bit too much when he laughs, the way I sometimes find myself touching the passenger seat after I drop him off on my way home from Pasadena after a day’s work, and before I can think twice, I begin to lower my face to meet his.
His hands caress my cheeks as his lips find mine, and I allow myself to let the walls down just enough to realize just how much he means what he’s saying. His lips are sliding across mine with such intensity, such precision, that it feels almost as if we’re dancing. I’m still not sure it’s a good idea to let myself give in, but it just feels so right, that I begin to melt just before he softly pulls away and breathes his words in a voice that’s barely above a whisper.
“I’m not saying I know what this means, or why you’ve gotten to me like no one ever has before - guy or girl - all I know is that I’m happiest when you’re around, and I miss you when you’re gone, and if that means I’m less a straight expressway than a mostly steady road with one fantastic detour through the mountains, so be it. Because I’m not one to let opportunities slip through my fingers if I can help it, and whether or not you can find it in yourself to go out on a limb and give me a shot, to give this a shot, I will never, ever regret allowing myself to reexamine who I thought I was because of you and everything you are, because loving you is one opportunity I don’t want to miss.”
My stomach is churning and my chest feels tight as I look him in the eye and zero in on the two words I can’t believe he just said.
“Loving me?”
“Maybe,” he nods, lacing his fingers through mine. His voice is louder than before, but still low and husky as he continues. “Everything I’m feeling about you is so new, and so strange, but in this really amazing kind of way, and I don’t know that I’m actually there yet, but…I think it’s entirely possible that I’m on my way.”
”Faint heart never won fair lady,” I think to myself, ”and almost nothing worth having ever comes without its risks.” I take the smallest possible step closer to him, slipping my right hand from his grasp. I don’t even let myself breathe as I brush over his face with my fingers before carefully tilting his chin upward to meet me. I’m cautious, but allow myself to really taste him this time; the salt of his lips and the tang of his tongue as I lightly flick my own against it, and the only thing I can really think is just how perfect it all feels, and how the daydreams I’ve been trying to prevent never managed to live up to the reality that is the feel of Darren’s five o’clock shadow as it scratches against my face.
We remain like that for a few moments, just fading into each other as the rest of the world disappears, until I whisper softly in his ear. “Maybe, just maybe, if we do it like that tomorrow, the audience will think it’s as beautiful and natural as we do.” He gives a soft laugh against my cheek, and I feel a familiar smile spread across his face.
“I think,” he grins, “it’s got some real potential.”
Laser eye Surgery