fic: close: being near in space or time.
close: being near in space or time.
rpf: hugh/jen, g.
for mabe85. he keeps wondering why it is she gravitates toward him
he keeps wondering why it is she gravitates toward him. he understood it in the beginning, when it was cameron and house and they were just acting out what was needed to be done. but then shore went along and bullied it up-- no no, he says, we're going to pair you up with everyone.
"i don't understand it," he says to her on set one day, reading amongst the script. "he's never going to let himself love any of these women, i don't see why we need any romance at all."
she smiles, and he knows this look. jen has different smiles for all occasions but this one he's familiarized himself with. "you know why," is all she says before standing, brushing her fingertips across his shoulder.
she's always leaving little traces of herself behind for him. she shouldn't, and he's told her this: i'm not the man you're looking for. but she's relentless, determined-- she says-- and he wonders if this is why she called off the wedding, or why jesse returned that summer with a cold demeanor and scathing eyes.
they've never been completely physical, or well, physical enough to tear apart his marriage. but there was a time when he was drunk, or she was drunk. maybe they were both drunk, he doesn't quite remember. he just knows there was too much loneliness between them, hands crawling where they shouldn't and the lasting taste of strawberry lip gloss gliding across his tongue.
they were fine for a while, afterwards when they didn't see each other nearly as much and she was busy filming a movie. his kids came to the states and they were there when he got the call, the call about an award show and him and heavy gold statues that he never feels comfortable leaving out in the house.
"congratulations," she says to him in the morning, and it's almost a purr they way she stands half in the doorway, her blonde locks falling against her shoulders.
"right, yes. thank you," and he stumbles across the words. humility has always been his strong point and he's never been able to come out of it.
later, there are camera crews and women with white teeth asking questions that are never answered simply, and they have the whole cast there to support him. "how does it feel?" they ask, and if he was a different man maybe he'd say, it's nice and all, but i really don't give a fuck. can we just get back to our lives now?
"it was a good morning," he says, "not that all the other mornings aren't good, but today was especially good."
there's a intermission between interviews, other camera men and other reporters setting up equipment in order to fetch the latest news. he's bored already, not comfortable with this type of spotlight, and jen keeps grabbing his attention every time she gently bumps into him.
"you're standing a bit close, aren't you?" he whispers to her while everyone else has their attention glued elsewhere.
"not close enough." is all that she replies, but it's enough to make him smile.
she always has that effect on him.
rpf: hugh/jen, g.
for mabe85. he keeps wondering why it is she gravitates toward him
he keeps wondering why it is she gravitates toward him. he understood it in the beginning, when it was cameron and house and they were just acting out what was needed to be done. but then shore went along and bullied it up-- no no, he says, we're going to pair you up with everyone.
"i don't understand it," he says to her on set one day, reading amongst the script. "he's never going to let himself love any of these women, i don't see why we need any romance at all."
she smiles, and he knows this look. jen has different smiles for all occasions but this one he's familiarized himself with. "you know why," is all she says before standing, brushing her fingertips across his shoulder.
she's always leaving little traces of herself behind for him. she shouldn't, and he's told her this: i'm not the man you're looking for. but she's relentless, determined-- she says-- and he wonders if this is why she called off the wedding, or why jesse returned that summer with a cold demeanor and scathing eyes.
they've never been completely physical, or well, physical enough to tear apart his marriage. but there was a time when he was drunk, or she was drunk. maybe they were both drunk, he doesn't quite remember. he just knows there was too much loneliness between them, hands crawling where they shouldn't and the lasting taste of strawberry lip gloss gliding across his tongue.
they were fine for a while, afterwards when they didn't see each other nearly as much and she was busy filming a movie. his kids came to the states and they were there when he got the call, the call about an award show and him and heavy gold statues that he never feels comfortable leaving out in the house.
"congratulations," she says to him in the morning, and it's almost a purr they way she stands half in the doorway, her blonde locks falling against her shoulders.
"right, yes. thank you," and he stumbles across the words. humility has always been his strong point and he's never been able to come out of it.
later, there are camera crews and women with white teeth asking questions that are never answered simply, and they have the whole cast there to support him. "how does it feel?" they ask, and if he was a different man maybe he'd say, it's nice and all, but i really don't give a fuck. can we just get back to our lives now?
"it was a good morning," he says, "not that all the other mornings aren't good, but today was especially good."
there's a intermission between interviews, other camera men and other reporters setting up equipment in order to fetch the latest news. he's bored already, not comfortable with this type of spotlight, and jen keeps grabbing his attention every time she gently bumps into him.
"you're standing a bit close, aren't you?" he whispers to her while everyone else has their attention glued elsewhere.
"not close enough." is all that she replies, but it's enough to make him smile.
she always has that effect on him.