ORIGINAL FICTION: Kansas, post season 2 & early season 3
Piece: Original fiction; Kansas
Timeline: Post season 2, the beginning of season 3 of Apocalypse.
Rating: PG-13 for language, mentions of sex
Summary: A.J. sees Patrick for the first time since they slept together (the second time). Later, A.J. and Harry's friendship and Patrick's response.
Concrit: Please! I would love it.
A/N: Brief summary so this scene makes sense: This should be read first.
A.J. plays Kansas on Apocalypse; Patrick plays Quentin. Kansas and Quentin are the main characters in an "obviously going to end up together" sort of way. A.J. is single; Patrick is married with two kids. A.J. and Patrick slept together once at the end of season 2. The scenes linked to above picks up immediately after they first sleep together. They do it again, a few days later at Harry's wrap party. Harry, who is also in the show and was introduced in the previous scenes as well, is one of A.J.'s best friends.
When she gets home from the grocery store, Patrick and Elle and Maren are sitting on the steps to her apartment building.
“A.J.!” Elle squeals and leaps at her.
A.J. doesn’t say anything, but she can’t help but grin as the little girl wraps around her legs. Patrick stands and without thinking A.J. hands him both her grocery bags so she can kneel to hug Elle.
“Hey there, Elbow,” she laughs.
Maren stays at Patrick’s side until A.J. makes a face at her. “Get over here, you!” and she does.
“Why haven’t we seen you?” Elle asks, more than a little indignant.
A.J. laughs again. “Well I’ve been working, darling. I’m very busy.”
Elle is skeptical. “But you work with Daddy.”
“Most of the time, yes. But this summer I’m not working with your daddy. I’m in a movie!”
“Well I don’t like it if it means I can’t see you,” Elle says, sticking her nose in the air.
“Oh darling, I’m sorry. Of course you can see me! Let’s go upstairs. Have you had lunch yet?”
She shakes her head.
“Well I’ve got some mac’n’cheese with your name on it!”
“My name too!” Maren says.
A.J. ruffles her hair. “Of course your name too. Let’s go.”
The girls bound up the steps. A.J. smiles tentatively at Patrick and goes to take one of the bags.
“I’ve got them,” he says, and smiles.
Upstairs, the girls are enthralled by A.J.’s Great Dane, and she and Patrick unload groceries.
“I hope I didn’t ruin any lunch plans you had,” A.J. says.
“Of course not. I hope we didn’t for you. It’s just we were in the neighborhood and Elle realized it and wouldn’t stop complaining about not seeing you. She led Maren in a chant of ‘A.J.! A.J.! A.J.!’ until I drove over.”
“They’re too sweet for their own good,” A.J. says as she puts a pot on to boil. She turns to find Patrick just watching her, but smiles and pretends not to notice. “And what shall the grownups have for lunch?”
“I don’t care; I’m easy.”
“Yeah you are,” she teases. She knows, if nothing had happened between them, he’d fake a scowl at that. As it is, he blushes and doesn’t look at her. “Well I was planning a crab salad wrap. I have enough for two.”
He smiles, but still doesn’t look at her. “Sounds great.”
Things aren’t as awkward as she expected, aren’t as awkward as they probably should be. It’s so easy, to let the girls make things normal between them. She feels like a divorced couple, faking friendship for the kids. She makes the wraps and he’s in charge of the macaroni. She tells him about the movie, how it’s grueling work and emotionally exhausting and the best experience of her life.
He grins and bumps hips with her and says, “I thought it was the Emmy you were going for, not the Oscar.” and she laughs.
“No Emmy yet, gotta explore other options.”
“I can’t believe you weren’t nominated this year. Neither can the critics, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
She blushes. “Well there’s always next year, right?”
“I don’t know,” Patrick says seriously. “Nominated first season but not second? They must not like it when you talk. Understandable, but it gives you bad odds to be nominated in future seasons.”
“Jerk!” she throws a dishrag at him and it is all so easy.
He laughs and drains the noodles.
“Ladies!” A.J. calls, still smiling. “You gonna pet the dog al day or come eat?”
“Eat! Eat! Eat!” They squeal, racing to the kitchen.
“Ah, ah, ah,” A.J. says. “Wash hands. Remember where the bathroom is?”
The girls nod and run off again.
“God Paddy, they’re growing up so fast.”
He groans. “Don’t remind me.”
The girls reappear as they set plates on A.J.’s little kitchen table.
“Lemme check!” A.J. says.
Both girls hold up their hands for approval. A.J. takes a long look at Maren’s.
“I did, I swear!”
A.J. laughs and tickles her. “I believe ya, kid; I was just teasing. Let’s eat.”
The girls are never quieter than when they eat, shoveling forkfuls of macaroni into their mouths to be washed down with gulps of milk. A.J. smiles at Patrick, who smiles and shrugs his shoulders.
When Elle has slowed down a bit, she takes a sip of milk and says, all professional, “So tell me about this work you’re doing.”
“I’m in a movie, Elbow.”
“What kind of movie?”
“It’s a very serious, grownup movie,” A.J. says. “It’s sad and it makes you think.”
“I want to see it!” Maren chirps.
A.J. glances at Patrick.
“Well Mare,” he says, “Like A.J. said, it’s a very grownup movie. Maybe you can see it when you’re older.”
Maren pouts.
“What kind of movies do you like, Maren?” A.J. asks. “Maybe I’ll do that type next.”
This launches Maren into a story of unicorns and princesses. Her sister joins to talk about aliens and villains and magic carpets. Patrick smiles at A.J. across the table and she has to look away so she doesn’t blush.
When they finish, Elle and Maren demand that they must clean up as a thank you, and A.J. lets them load the dishwasher. Both girls start crying when it’s time to leave. They won’t let go of A.J.
“Girls, come on,” Patrick says, exasperated.
Elle sniffles into A.J.’s neck. “Can’t you come live with us?”
A.J. chuckles. “Tell you what, Elbow-I’ll talk to your dad and the next time I have some time off, you and your sister can come live with me for a couple of days.”
The girls giggle and finally agree to head home. Patrick thanks her and kisses her cheek, and she’s pretty sure she flushes cherry.
“Bye!” she says quickly and closes the door on them.
She sinks against it, listens to their voices fade away, and bursts into tears.
It’s stupid-everything was so good and normal and, God, he used to kiss her on the cheek all the time, but suddenly the contact scares her. It wasn’t totally normal, she supposes; she never once asked about Becky, and he didn’t mention her, even though A.J. knows they only recently got back from visiting his in-laws.
A.J. pulls herself together and calls Harry.
“Come over for lunch,” she says as soon as he picks up.
She sounds so chipper he laughs. “Depends what you’re making me.”
“Anything you want, Hot Stuff.”
It feels good to flirt with him, good and normal and not at all heartbreaking.
When Harry arrives A.J. practically tackles him in a hug. He laughs.
“Take it slow, little lady. We got all afternoon.”
She giggles and kisses his cheek and doesn’t need to cry.
They eat lunch-pasta salad this time-and she talks about her movie again and he talks about a script he’s been working on. She’s the only one who’s read it besides an editor.
“I want that part, Harry. I’ll kill you if you don’t give me that part,” she says.
He laughs. “The script’s not even finished, much less picked up by anyone.”
She puts a hand on his arm. “I believe in you, Harry.”
He ducks his head, smiles, and changes the subject. “You seen anyone else over hiatus or is this movie taken up too much of your time?”
“Oh, you know, the occasional lunch with Faith. And Heather worships me about as much as her character loves Kansas,” she says, all fake nonchalance. Harry doesn’t seem to notice.
“No Patrick? Really? Elle must be going crazy.”
A.J.’s quiet for a moment. Harry’s the only one who has any idea what happened between her and Patrick, and even he doesn’t know the whole story. But the way he can just talk about him, about her seeing him, like it is completely normal, like she doesn’t break down in tears after she sees him-she doesn’t get that. She feels like he should understand; he understood enough not to ask questions when she called him even though she was two blocks from Patrick’s house.
Eventually she takes a breath and says, “Harry, I have to ask you a serious question.”
“Jesus,” he chuckles. “You’re so quiet I thought you were Kansas there for a minute.” She glances at him and his smile disappears. “Right. Serious.”
“Did you make me come to your wrap party on purpose?”
He gives her a quizzical look. “How would I make you come to my party unintentionally?”
“No, I mean-” she looks away. “Did you make me come knowing something would happen with Patrick? Knowing with that much alcohol I’d make the worst mistake of my life? Again.”
Her voice cracks and Harry looks horrified.
“Oh God, A.J., no. No, of course not!” He moves around the table to her side but she slides out of his reach. “Babe, I just thought-I didn’t know what happened-I don’t know what happened-and I thought maybe if I forced you guys together, especially with alcohol, you’d get past what you needed to get past.”
“Jesus, Harry,” she’s crying now. “He fucked me on your washing machine!”
Harry looks genuinely shocked and A.J. just cries harder. She lets him comfort her this time, lets him wrap his arms around her shoulders and pull her to him. And he lets her cry it out-a minute turns into five moves closer to ten before she’s reduced it to sniffles.
“Babe,” he says, keeping her pressed to his chest. “Babe, I thought you were just fighting, or that maybe you’d kissed. I didn’t realize-I would never have made you-I’m sorry.”
A.J. takes a big breath and pulls away. “It’s not your fault, Harry. It’s us.”
He nods, clearly doesn’t know what to say. A.J. laughs and wipes her eyes.
“I’ve been enough of a girl about this. What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
Harry just looks at her. “A.J., come on. We can talk about this.”
“It’s really not-” her voice breaks again and she has to take a minute. “Can we just go see a movie or something?”
He takes her for a movie and out to ice cream and it makes her think about the weekend she spent with him after sleeping with Patrick. Both times, he managed to make things seem okay. He asks her if she wants to talk about it again that night, but she doesn’t, and she’s pretty sure he doesn’t really want to hear it anyway. He holds her until she can barely keep her eyes open before slipping out of her apartment.
The next day, it’s all over the entertainment sections of the newspapers-Apocalypse Romance?, with pictures of her hanging on his arm as he buys movie tickets, laughing with ice cream, and even one of him leaving her apartment past midnight. It’s stupid and embarrassing and so completely ridiculous she can’t help but laugh.
Faith calls, which just makes her laugh harder.
“So I take this to mean you’re not dating Harry?” Faith says, when A.J. can’t even stop her laughter to say hello when she picks up the phone.
She gets control of herself, save a few hiccupping laughs, and says, “Yeah, we’re totally in love.”
“Has your mom called yet?”
A.J. giggles. “No, and I’m quite surprised. I was expecting a lecture on how she should be the first to know and why do I have to keep these things from her all the time?”
“Patrick called me so early he almost woke me up,” Faith laughs. “He was all, ‘Is this true?’ and I hadn’t even seen the paper yet.’
A.J. forces a few chuckles. She kind of wants to hit herself in the face; any mention of Patrick brings a twist in her stomach and she feels like a teenage girl. “Emo” wasn’t an adjective when she was growing up, but she’s pretty sure it fits her now. If he called that means he cares, that means it would matter to him if she were dating Harry. But she’s not and Patrick’s married anyway and God, she really wants to punch herself.
Her mom does call later, but A.J. tells her it’s not true before she gets lectured.
Harry comes by once a week after that-for a meal or a movie or a walk. If they spot paparazzi, they have fun-holding hands and smiling and staring into each other’s eyes. He’ll bury his head in her hair then tickle her until she screeches at him to stop.
By the time filming of her movie wraps and Apocalypse is about to start up again, everyone is sure they’re dating. Her mom keeps telling her, “Say hi to Harry for me.” and refuses to believe her protests.
The first day back from hiatus, and everyone from the Apocalypse set stares at them. They arrived at the same time and his arm is around her and they are laughing like fools, and when they walk into the room, everyone else freezes. It’s completely obvious and absolutely hilarious and they laugh harder.
“We’re not dating,” A.J. manages to get out through fits of giggles.
“Yeah, right,” Kurt says.
“No, really. We decided to have fun with the paparazzi.”
No one looks like they believe them.
“Look, if people followed me and Faith around the way they follow me and Harry around, we’d be outed as lesbians, so,” A.J. says and Faith snorts with laughter. “I’m just saying.”
“Revealing our super secret love?” Faith says. “Won’t your boyfriend be jealous?”
“So jealous,” Harry says.
The three of them fall into hysterics again. By now everyone else in the room is more worried about them being insane than who’s dating.
“Get it out of your system,” Ed says as he enters. “We’re winning Emmys this year; we won’t have time for laughing.”
A.J. and Faith and Harry shut up quickly, and everyone takes their place around the table. Someone whose name A.J. should remember but doesn’t is handing around the shooting schedule and the scripts.
A.J. glances across the table at Patrick and smiles, big and bright. Over the summer she decided she spent enough time being dramatically and unrequitedly in love with him, so she’s just going to be friends and be happy. She’s going to make that happen. She kept in touch with him for the rest of the summer-mostly through phone calls and text messages-and Elle and Maren stayed at her house for a weekend of girly movies and more ice cream than they’d get at home in a week. And now he smiles back at her from across the table, so being friends seems to be working.
-
It does work, for a while. They are happy and friendly and even flirty-in a we-never-slept-together sort of a way. Through the first three episodes.
In episode four, Harry’s character fights with Quentin.
There is a lot of punching and grappling and fake blood. Except Patrick actually lands a punch, and then there’s a bit of real blood too. The next take, when Harry’s character throws Quentin into a wall, Harry does it maybe harder than necessary, and Patrick doesn’t have to pretend to lose his breath. Then Harry tosses him to the ground, and his head actually hits it, slams into the cement, and Ed calls cut.
“Take ten, everyone,” Ed says. “Settle down guys.”
They both grumble and head toward their trailers. A.J. was watching because the next scene to be filmed is one of hers, and she keeps watching as both men leave. Harry just shrugs at her, and Patrick avoids her-or anyone’s-eyes, so he’s the one she follows.
“You okay?” she asks as he’s heading into his trailer.
He grunts something in return, but leaves the door open. She goes in. He’s already on the couch, holding his head in one hand, dry swallowing some ibuprofen.
“Let me get you some ice or make-up’s not going to have to fake those bruises,” she says.
He follows her into the kitchen. “Tell your boyfriend to lay off.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she says for the millionth time, rolling her eyes and opening the mini-freezer for ice.
“No? Just the guy you fuck when you can’t fuck me?”
She flips around to look at him, surprised speechless. He’s glaring at her, totally serious and she laughs, disbelieving, and says, “God. How does your neck hold up a head that big?”
“How many pairs of pants have you ripped spreading your legs?”
She slaps him, once. Goes to slap him again but he catches her hand this time, grip tight around her wrist, and pulls her to him. He kisses her, hard; her mouth half-open in surprise and his tongue probes inside. It’s all sudden and confusing and it takes her mind a minute to figure out what the hell she is supposed to do.
She bites down on his lower lip, hard.
“Fuck,” he pulls away. He spits into the sink, and it’s red with blood. She’s proud. “Bitch.”
“Cheat,” she snarls back without thinking, and it’s not what he expected, he looks actually surprised.
She marches to the door but takes a breath before going outside. Her head is swirling but not enough that she doesn’t know better than to storm away from the trailer of her married costar whom she may or may not have slept with on two occasions.
Harry’s headed back to set as she walks by, and she smiles sweetly and, under her breath, says, “Kick his ass.”
Later, she hears that the scene actually turned into them punching each other. She wonders if they kept the cameras rolling.
Timeline: Post season 2, the beginning of season 3 of Apocalypse.
Rating: PG-13 for language, mentions of sex
Summary: A.J. sees Patrick for the first time since they slept together (the second time). Later, A.J. and Harry's friendship and Patrick's response.
Concrit: Please! I would love it.
A/N: Brief summary so this scene makes sense: This should be read first.
A.J. plays Kansas on Apocalypse; Patrick plays Quentin. Kansas and Quentin are the main characters in an "obviously going to end up together" sort of way. A.J. is single; Patrick is married with two kids. A.J. and Patrick slept together once at the end of season 2. The scenes linked to above picks up immediately after they first sleep together. They do it again, a few days later at Harry's wrap party. Harry, who is also in the show and was introduced in the previous scenes as well, is one of A.J.'s best friends.
When she gets home from the grocery store, Patrick and Elle and Maren are sitting on the steps to her apartment building.
“A.J.!” Elle squeals and leaps at her.
A.J. doesn’t say anything, but she can’t help but grin as the little girl wraps around her legs. Patrick stands and without thinking A.J. hands him both her grocery bags so she can kneel to hug Elle.
“Hey there, Elbow,” she laughs.
Maren stays at Patrick’s side until A.J. makes a face at her. “Get over here, you!” and she does.
“Why haven’t we seen you?” Elle asks, more than a little indignant.
A.J. laughs again. “Well I’ve been working, darling. I’m very busy.”
Elle is skeptical. “But you work with Daddy.”
“Most of the time, yes. But this summer I’m not working with your daddy. I’m in a movie!”
“Well I don’t like it if it means I can’t see you,” Elle says, sticking her nose in the air.
“Oh darling, I’m sorry. Of course you can see me! Let’s go upstairs. Have you had lunch yet?”
She shakes her head.
“Well I’ve got some mac’n’cheese with your name on it!”
“My name too!” Maren says.
A.J. ruffles her hair. “Of course your name too. Let’s go.”
The girls bound up the steps. A.J. smiles tentatively at Patrick and goes to take one of the bags.
“I’ve got them,” he says, and smiles.
Upstairs, the girls are enthralled by A.J.’s Great Dane, and she and Patrick unload groceries.
“I hope I didn’t ruin any lunch plans you had,” A.J. says.
“Of course not. I hope we didn’t for you. It’s just we were in the neighborhood and Elle realized it and wouldn’t stop complaining about not seeing you. She led Maren in a chant of ‘A.J.! A.J.! A.J.!’ until I drove over.”
“They’re too sweet for their own good,” A.J. says as she puts a pot on to boil. She turns to find Patrick just watching her, but smiles and pretends not to notice. “And what shall the grownups have for lunch?”
“I don’t care; I’m easy.”
“Yeah you are,” she teases. She knows, if nothing had happened between them, he’d fake a scowl at that. As it is, he blushes and doesn’t look at her. “Well I was planning a crab salad wrap. I have enough for two.”
He smiles, but still doesn’t look at her. “Sounds great.”
Things aren’t as awkward as she expected, aren’t as awkward as they probably should be. It’s so easy, to let the girls make things normal between them. She feels like a divorced couple, faking friendship for the kids. She makes the wraps and he’s in charge of the macaroni. She tells him about the movie, how it’s grueling work and emotionally exhausting and the best experience of her life.
He grins and bumps hips with her and says, “I thought it was the Emmy you were going for, not the Oscar.” and she laughs.
“No Emmy yet, gotta explore other options.”
“I can’t believe you weren’t nominated this year. Neither can the critics, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
She blushes. “Well there’s always next year, right?”
“I don’t know,” Patrick says seriously. “Nominated first season but not second? They must not like it when you talk. Understandable, but it gives you bad odds to be nominated in future seasons.”
“Jerk!” she throws a dishrag at him and it is all so easy.
He laughs and drains the noodles.
“Ladies!” A.J. calls, still smiling. “You gonna pet the dog al day or come eat?”
“Eat! Eat! Eat!” They squeal, racing to the kitchen.
“Ah, ah, ah,” A.J. says. “Wash hands. Remember where the bathroom is?”
The girls nod and run off again.
“God Paddy, they’re growing up so fast.”
He groans. “Don’t remind me.”
The girls reappear as they set plates on A.J.’s little kitchen table.
“Lemme check!” A.J. says.
Both girls hold up their hands for approval. A.J. takes a long look at Maren’s.
“I did, I swear!”
A.J. laughs and tickles her. “I believe ya, kid; I was just teasing. Let’s eat.”
The girls are never quieter than when they eat, shoveling forkfuls of macaroni into their mouths to be washed down with gulps of milk. A.J. smiles at Patrick, who smiles and shrugs his shoulders.
When Elle has slowed down a bit, she takes a sip of milk and says, all professional, “So tell me about this work you’re doing.”
“I’m in a movie, Elbow.”
“What kind of movie?”
“It’s a very serious, grownup movie,” A.J. says. “It’s sad and it makes you think.”
“I want to see it!” Maren chirps.
A.J. glances at Patrick.
“Well Mare,” he says, “Like A.J. said, it’s a very grownup movie. Maybe you can see it when you’re older.”
Maren pouts.
“What kind of movies do you like, Maren?” A.J. asks. “Maybe I’ll do that type next.”
This launches Maren into a story of unicorns and princesses. Her sister joins to talk about aliens and villains and magic carpets. Patrick smiles at A.J. across the table and she has to look away so she doesn’t blush.
When they finish, Elle and Maren demand that they must clean up as a thank you, and A.J. lets them load the dishwasher. Both girls start crying when it’s time to leave. They won’t let go of A.J.
“Girls, come on,” Patrick says, exasperated.
Elle sniffles into A.J.’s neck. “Can’t you come live with us?”
A.J. chuckles. “Tell you what, Elbow-I’ll talk to your dad and the next time I have some time off, you and your sister can come live with me for a couple of days.”
The girls giggle and finally agree to head home. Patrick thanks her and kisses her cheek, and she’s pretty sure she flushes cherry.
“Bye!” she says quickly and closes the door on them.
She sinks against it, listens to their voices fade away, and bursts into tears.
It’s stupid-everything was so good and normal and, God, he used to kiss her on the cheek all the time, but suddenly the contact scares her. It wasn’t totally normal, she supposes; she never once asked about Becky, and he didn’t mention her, even though A.J. knows they only recently got back from visiting his in-laws.
A.J. pulls herself together and calls Harry.
“Come over for lunch,” she says as soon as he picks up.
She sounds so chipper he laughs. “Depends what you’re making me.”
“Anything you want, Hot Stuff.”
It feels good to flirt with him, good and normal and not at all heartbreaking.
When Harry arrives A.J. practically tackles him in a hug. He laughs.
“Take it slow, little lady. We got all afternoon.”
She giggles and kisses his cheek and doesn’t need to cry.
They eat lunch-pasta salad this time-and she talks about her movie again and he talks about a script he’s been working on. She’s the only one who’s read it besides an editor.
“I want that part, Harry. I’ll kill you if you don’t give me that part,” she says.
He laughs. “The script’s not even finished, much less picked up by anyone.”
She puts a hand on his arm. “I believe in you, Harry.”
He ducks his head, smiles, and changes the subject. “You seen anyone else over hiatus or is this movie taken up too much of your time?”
“Oh, you know, the occasional lunch with Faith. And Heather worships me about as much as her character loves Kansas,” she says, all fake nonchalance. Harry doesn’t seem to notice.
“No Patrick? Really? Elle must be going crazy.”
A.J.’s quiet for a moment. Harry’s the only one who has any idea what happened between her and Patrick, and even he doesn’t know the whole story. But the way he can just talk about him, about her seeing him, like it is completely normal, like she doesn’t break down in tears after she sees him-she doesn’t get that. She feels like he should understand; he understood enough not to ask questions when she called him even though she was two blocks from Patrick’s house.
Eventually she takes a breath and says, “Harry, I have to ask you a serious question.”
“Jesus,” he chuckles. “You’re so quiet I thought you were Kansas there for a minute.” She glances at him and his smile disappears. “Right. Serious.”
“Did you make me come to your wrap party on purpose?”
He gives her a quizzical look. “How would I make you come to my party unintentionally?”
“No, I mean-” she looks away. “Did you make me come knowing something would happen with Patrick? Knowing with that much alcohol I’d make the worst mistake of my life? Again.”
Her voice cracks and Harry looks horrified.
“Oh God, A.J., no. No, of course not!” He moves around the table to her side but she slides out of his reach. “Babe, I just thought-I didn’t know what happened-I don’t know what happened-and I thought maybe if I forced you guys together, especially with alcohol, you’d get past what you needed to get past.”
“Jesus, Harry,” she’s crying now. “He fucked me on your washing machine!”
Harry looks genuinely shocked and A.J. just cries harder. She lets him comfort her this time, lets him wrap his arms around her shoulders and pull her to him. And he lets her cry it out-a minute turns into five moves closer to ten before she’s reduced it to sniffles.
“Babe,” he says, keeping her pressed to his chest. “Babe, I thought you were just fighting, or that maybe you’d kissed. I didn’t realize-I would never have made you-I’m sorry.”
A.J. takes a big breath and pulls away. “It’s not your fault, Harry. It’s us.”
He nods, clearly doesn’t know what to say. A.J. laughs and wipes her eyes.
“I’ve been enough of a girl about this. What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
Harry just looks at her. “A.J., come on. We can talk about this.”
“It’s really not-” her voice breaks again and she has to take a minute. “Can we just go see a movie or something?”
He takes her for a movie and out to ice cream and it makes her think about the weekend she spent with him after sleeping with Patrick. Both times, he managed to make things seem okay. He asks her if she wants to talk about it again that night, but she doesn’t, and she’s pretty sure he doesn’t really want to hear it anyway. He holds her until she can barely keep her eyes open before slipping out of her apartment.
The next day, it’s all over the entertainment sections of the newspapers-Apocalypse Romance?, with pictures of her hanging on his arm as he buys movie tickets, laughing with ice cream, and even one of him leaving her apartment past midnight. It’s stupid and embarrassing and so completely ridiculous she can’t help but laugh.
Faith calls, which just makes her laugh harder.
“So I take this to mean you’re not dating Harry?” Faith says, when A.J. can’t even stop her laughter to say hello when she picks up the phone.
She gets control of herself, save a few hiccupping laughs, and says, “Yeah, we’re totally in love.”
“Has your mom called yet?”
A.J. giggles. “No, and I’m quite surprised. I was expecting a lecture on how she should be the first to know and why do I have to keep these things from her all the time?”
“Patrick called me so early he almost woke me up,” Faith laughs. “He was all, ‘Is this true?’ and I hadn’t even seen the paper yet.’
A.J. forces a few chuckles. She kind of wants to hit herself in the face; any mention of Patrick brings a twist in her stomach and she feels like a teenage girl. “Emo” wasn’t an adjective when she was growing up, but she’s pretty sure it fits her now. If he called that means he cares, that means it would matter to him if she were dating Harry. But she’s not and Patrick’s married anyway and God, she really wants to punch herself.
Her mom does call later, but A.J. tells her it’s not true before she gets lectured.
Harry comes by once a week after that-for a meal or a movie or a walk. If they spot paparazzi, they have fun-holding hands and smiling and staring into each other’s eyes. He’ll bury his head in her hair then tickle her until she screeches at him to stop.
By the time filming of her movie wraps and Apocalypse is about to start up again, everyone is sure they’re dating. Her mom keeps telling her, “Say hi to Harry for me.” and refuses to believe her protests.
The first day back from hiatus, and everyone from the Apocalypse set stares at them. They arrived at the same time and his arm is around her and they are laughing like fools, and when they walk into the room, everyone else freezes. It’s completely obvious and absolutely hilarious and they laugh harder.
“We’re not dating,” A.J. manages to get out through fits of giggles.
“Yeah, right,” Kurt says.
“No, really. We decided to have fun with the paparazzi.”
No one looks like they believe them.
“Look, if people followed me and Faith around the way they follow me and Harry around, we’d be outed as lesbians, so,” A.J. says and Faith snorts with laughter. “I’m just saying.”
“Revealing our super secret love?” Faith says. “Won’t your boyfriend be jealous?”
“So jealous,” Harry says.
The three of them fall into hysterics again. By now everyone else in the room is more worried about them being insane than who’s dating.
“Get it out of your system,” Ed says as he enters. “We’re winning Emmys this year; we won’t have time for laughing.”
A.J. and Faith and Harry shut up quickly, and everyone takes their place around the table. Someone whose name A.J. should remember but doesn’t is handing around the shooting schedule and the scripts.
A.J. glances across the table at Patrick and smiles, big and bright. Over the summer she decided she spent enough time being dramatically and unrequitedly in love with him, so she’s just going to be friends and be happy. She’s going to make that happen. She kept in touch with him for the rest of the summer-mostly through phone calls and text messages-and Elle and Maren stayed at her house for a weekend of girly movies and more ice cream than they’d get at home in a week. And now he smiles back at her from across the table, so being friends seems to be working.
-
It does work, for a while. They are happy and friendly and even flirty-in a we-never-slept-together sort of a way. Through the first three episodes.
In episode four, Harry’s character fights with Quentin.
There is a lot of punching and grappling and fake blood. Except Patrick actually lands a punch, and then there’s a bit of real blood too. The next take, when Harry’s character throws Quentin into a wall, Harry does it maybe harder than necessary, and Patrick doesn’t have to pretend to lose his breath. Then Harry tosses him to the ground, and his head actually hits it, slams into the cement, and Ed calls cut.
“Take ten, everyone,” Ed says. “Settle down guys.”
They both grumble and head toward their trailers. A.J. was watching because the next scene to be filmed is one of hers, and she keeps watching as both men leave. Harry just shrugs at her, and Patrick avoids her-or anyone’s-eyes, so he’s the one she follows.
“You okay?” she asks as he’s heading into his trailer.
He grunts something in return, but leaves the door open. She goes in. He’s already on the couch, holding his head in one hand, dry swallowing some ibuprofen.
“Let me get you some ice or make-up’s not going to have to fake those bruises,” she says.
He follows her into the kitchen. “Tell your boyfriend to lay off.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she says for the millionth time, rolling her eyes and opening the mini-freezer for ice.
“No? Just the guy you fuck when you can’t fuck me?”
She flips around to look at him, surprised speechless. He’s glaring at her, totally serious and she laughs, disbelieving, and says, “God. How does your neck hold up a head that big?”
“How many pairs of pants have you ripped spreading your legs?”
She slaps him, once. Goes to slap him again but he catches her hand this time, grip tight around her wrist, and pulls her to him. He kisses her, hard; her mouth half-open in surprise and his tongue probes inside. It’s all sudden and confusing and it takes her mind a minute to figure out what the hell she is supposed to do.
She bites down on his lower lip, hard.
“Fuck,” he pulls away. He spits into the sink, and it’s red with blood. She’s proud. “Bitch.”
“Cheat,” she snarls back without thinking, and it’s not what he expected, he looks actually surprised.
She marches to the door but takes a breath before going outside. Her head is swirling but not enough that she doesn’t know better than to storm away from the trailer of her married costar whom she may or may not have slept with on two occasions.
Harry’s headed back to set as she walks by, and she smiles sweetly and, under her breath, says, “Kick his ass.”
Later, she hears that the scene actually turned into them punching each other. She wonders if they kept the cameras rolling.