dvd commentary: the liberation of katie holmes, part eight (1/2)

[buffyx]

Less than an hour later, the helicopter lands in a large open field that reminds Kristen of Midwestern plains, although she knows there’s no way they’ve made it out of Florida yet. A long rectangular building stands about a half a football field away, but other than that, the terrain is endless and empty, filled with tall grass and scrub bushes to the horizon.

Jason unbuckles himself almost immediately, gesturing at the group to wait before opening the hatch and jumping down to the ground. After flipping a few switches that shut off the motors, the pilot joins him.

"So you think it's going to work out between you two?" Kristen asks Josh, looking over at Katie, who is asleep against the window, Josh's purloined lab coat draped across her chest. Her mouth is slack, half-open, and her eyes closed. The color seems to be returning to her face now.

"Please, are you kidding me?" he scoffs in return. "I just helped complete a a very Harrison Ford-esque rescue mission, risking my life in order to save her and her child. Now, I'm not saying it'll be easy, but it's got to give me some leverage, right?"

She cocks her head and pretends to consider it. "One would think."

"I mean, seriously." Josh leans in and lowers his voice. "How much sex do you want to have with me right now?"

buffyx: The "How much sex do you want to have with me right now?" line has been in my head for MONTHS. I am not even kidding! I kept trying to find a way to incorporate it into a fic or something and never could. And finally, it found its place with Josh.

miss deviant: And it fit like a forgotten rubber glove. It's not a coincidence that this section ended up composing about a quarter of the fic. All the sections got longer and longer as we went on - we really started rolling in the 'verse.

"Yeah, thanks but no thanks," she says, glancing in Jason's direction.

He's standing next to the pilot outside of the helicopter, speaking intensely, saying something she can't hear. He's all sweaty and dirty. But not bad dirty, hot dirty. Rugged dirty. The kind of dirty where she wants to lick the back of his neck and pull his hair.

Wait, scratch that. He's DEFINITELY bad dirty.

Josh follows her gaze. "Maybe if I didn't have such stiff competition..."

"I don't know what you mean," she lies, and even without looking at him knows that he knows she's lying, because she's a bad liar. A bad liar with bad dirty thoughts. Pretty much everything about her is just bad all around.

This is confirmed when he says, "You're still a bad liar," then shifts to press Suri closer to his chest.

buffyx: RUGGED DIRTY. That is hot.

miss deviant: And the 'bad liar' callback. It's pretty clear that everyone knows what is going on here. Which means the sex is inevitable. Hooray, sex!

buffyx: Finally! SEX!

When Kristen finally extricates herself from the helicopter harness, Jason is waiting below, extending a hand. She ignores it, scooting out and hopping down on her own. Her legs feel like jello; she wobbles for a moment, and then Jason’s hand is flat against her back, steadying her.

She prays her face looks only red from the heat as she steps away from him.

Josh joins them on solid ground, sans Suri, stretching his legs with a long, indulgent sigh.

“I just spoke with Devno,” Jason tells him. “You guys should land about twenty minutes outside AZO. Flight time is roughly two hours, twenty-five minutes.”

Josh perks up at this. “So it’s all set?”

“What’s all set?” Kristen asks, confused.

“There’s a safehouse in Kalamazoo,” Josh explains. “Katie and the baby will be out of harm's way there.”

“Kalamazoo?” she asks, surprised. “You’re taking them to Michigan? Are you sure they won’t die of boredom and crappy weather?”

“Hey, I thought it sounded like a magical place,” he jokes. “Very Dorothy of Oz. I was kind of imagining yellow brick roads and rainbow-colored horses.”

miss deviant: Devno was a TYPO.

buffyx: YES. It was originally "Devon." But then Devno stuck.

miss deviant: But I really really liked it and encouraged Hannah to keep it.

buffyx: Also, in true Michigander fashion, I came up with the safehouse in Kalamazoo. Which always makes me laugh because it's such a weird name for a town.

miss deviant: I'm from the midwest originally as well, so I could relate to the whole "boredom and crappy weather" thing.

“It’s safe, and that’s what counts,” Jason says. “Remote enough that it can’t be tracked. The most secure location we could find.”

Josh opens his mouth to say more, but then Devno, the pilot, is coming up, brushing past them to the cockpit, making some weird hand signal to him. He nods in apparent understanding, and a few seconds later, the helicopter is starting up again.

“Well, it’s been fun, but my fair lady awaits,” Josh says over the sound of the main rotor’s blades, gesturing grandly to the waiting helicopter. His face relaxes into an expression of mock seriousness. “I feel like we haven’t heard the last of the Muckrakers, though.”

“Muckrakers?” Jason echoes indignantly.

“That’s the best you come up with to describe our combined powers of awesomeness?” Kristen interjects. “What, was carpetbaggers unavailable or something?”

“Actually, my first choice was Hamas,” Josh says with a coy grin, “but it was already taken. Can you believe it?”

miss deviant: How much does it crack me up that Michigan is the most secure location in the world? LOTS, is the answer to that.

buffyx: Yes! Who is going to look for Michigan? The only other place more secure is probably Delaware, the one state I always forget actually exists. And I came up with "Muckrakers." I love that word and thought it'd be a cute nickname. They needed a nickname.

miss deviant: and then we got the MOCKING of the nickname. Because - Kristen mocks.

buffyx: It's her default reaction to everything.

miss deviant: Much like mine and Hannah's. OH GOD, WE MARY SUE'D OURSELVES INTO THIS FIC!

buffyx: OOPS.

Kristen struggles to keep a straight face, but a tiny snort escapes. That sets Josh off, and finally Jason, until they are all doubled over in the field. The tall blades of grass tickle Kristen’s cheeks.

Suddenly, she is struck with incredible gratitude. She is ALIVE. Sore and worn out and in a hell of a bind that has nothing to do with Scientologists (okay, maybe something to do with one CERTAIN Scientologist-ex-Scientologist-whatever). But she is alive.

When she gets home, she is going to turn up the stereo, put on her crazy purple lightup glasses, and throw herself the best damn “I Didn’t Die” party ever.

A few great, shuddering sighs later, she manages to compose herself. She brushes at the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand. Josh and Jason have stopped laughing too. Josh is watching her with a shy affection, and she tilts her head and smiles at him. As a rule, goodbyes suck. The kind of goodbyes after which friends will inevitably be forced to go into hiding by an evil religious conglomerate, possibly never to be heard from again - those suck even more.

miss deviant: The crazy purple lightup glasses - it's a classified shoutout. But suffice it to say, they DO exist. We have photographic evidence!

buffyx: Let's just say, they exist. Really! I love the way she just tackles Josh in a hug. It's so cute. The whole scene is adorable and kind of sad because OMG GOODBYES REALLY DO SUCK!

miss deviant: The relief is just palpable in this scene.

“Mama Eagle,” Josh says, raising two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute.

“Mighty Duck.” A bright smile stretches across Kristen’s face. Oh, fuck it.

She runs the three feet into Josh’s arms, reaching up and wrapping her arms around his neck. He picks her up, spinning her around as she squeaks and kicks her heels like a five year old.

When he rights her on her feet, it feels like way too soon, but she eventually slides her hands off of his neck, moves aside and straightens out the hem of her wrinkled sweater. Jason, who has been hanging back a little, ducks his head and takes a tentative step forward.

“Jackson--” he starts gruffly, then pauses, mouth still open. He seems at a loss for words. “I, uh--”

“There’s no one who I would have rather worked with on this,” Josh tells him. “Thank you.”

He reaches out his arm, and Jason looks mildly surprised before meeting him halfway, giving him a firm handshake. He nods curtly, but he’s smiling as he does.

Kristen thinks that it would take a lot less convincing to get them to make out now than it would have at the beginning of this expedition.

buffyx: Ann wrote the hug. So cute.

miss deviant: I can't believe we forgot "Mighty Duck" in our first round of walkie talkie shenanigans! Well, sometimes I have days where I celebrate being five and jump laps around the house. So I have a pretty good idea what hugs that make you feel like a five year old are like.

buffyx: Especially from guys who are kind of burly, if you know what I mean.

miss deviant: I wouldn't even mind the facial hair, for about five seconds. And as for the making out between Josh and Jason - seriously. Like we said - we're not going to write it, but if any of YOU want to - go wild.

**

It takes about six minutes after the copter’s departure before Jason manages to convince Kristen that no, really, Josh can’t see her jumping up and down and waving her arms anymore. And even if he could, he’s probably not looking.

Whatever. It’s the sentiment that counts, dammit.

“Great, let me guess, I have to take a bus to get back home or something,” grumbles Kristen. She turns and scans the horizon for any kind of traffic in the distance, but she can’t make any out. “Jason. While I really do like dogs, I do not relish the idea of having to take a Greyhound out of the middle of BuFu.”

“A bus?” The corners of his mouth quirk up in a half-smile. “You sorely underestimate the Resistance.”

“Really.” She stares at him, unimpressed. “So what, they’re going to spring for a cab? Or should I have remembered to pack my ruby slippers?”

He shakes his head. “Uh, just follow me.”

They hike through the tall weeds and brush in the direction of the lone barn-like building, and when they get close enough, they start walking along a long stretch of decrepit cobbled road, leading out of the barn. Jason goes around to the side, grabs the handles at the edge of the wooden sliding door.

“Ready?” he asks over his shoulder, but before she can answer, he’s pulling it all of the way open, then stepping back with a grin. “Voilà.”

Kristen peeks her head in, blinking a few times, adjusting to the dim light. When she sees what’s inside, she can’t help but gasp.

A small, sleek plane. A private jet, to be more exact.

“Ohmygod,” she breathes, all in one word, shocked and a little giddy.

“So whaddya say?” Jason asks, grinning broadly. “Wanna take a ride?"

miss deviant: THE BEST PART! I CANNOT EVEN DECAPSLOCK.

buffyx: PLANE. PLANEEEEEE!

miss deviant: This is the point where the self-fangirling is going to get a LITTLE out of control. FAIR WARNING!!!

buffyx: Seriously. The commenting for this part is just one big squee.

**

The interior of the jet is all white leather seats and dark cherry trim. A long tan upholstered bench stretches down a third of one wall, topped with a maroon brocade pillow. Very Nate Berkus. The whole thing is so “The Fabulous Life of…” that Kristen expects to see Paris Hilton emerge from the bathroom with a cocktail.

“So,” she cracks, eyeing the wet bar, “this is where the sex happens, huh?”

Instead of laughing, Jason stares at her.

"Er. The gay plane sex." she stammers, attempting to recover. “I kind of thought there would be more leopard print. A mirrorball. Maybe a few International Male catalogs on the coffee table. Black lights.”

Jason smiles wide, his right eyebrow quirking upwards, and Kristen feels her cheeks heat up.

“Usually, yes, but shock of all shocks, Travolta’s jet was booked up through the Fourth of July. Funny how quick Brooke Shields was to lend me her jet and pilot for the weekend.”

miss deviant: Hannah gets the points for Brooke Shield's plane, while I get the points for "Travolta's jet was booked up." TEAM EFFORT!

buffyx: HIGH FIVE!

miss deviant: * fives * We found a picture of our jet online and wrote off of that. Since I have not had the luxury to ever take a private jet.

buffyx: Me neither.

miss deviant: One day, when we have been extradited for our Scientology trial as a result of writing this story, I hope to have that experience.

She barely has time to take the implications of that statement in when the pilot’s voice crackles to life over the jet’s intercom.

“Ms. Bell? Mr. Dohring? Are we ready for takeoff?”

Is Kristen ready for takeoff? So much of this weekend could be summed up in those three words. Of course, the answer to that is no, no, and no. How do you prepare yourself for the moments brought about by repeating one stupid nonsense phrase? Purple Monkey Dishwasher indeed.

But there’s also an odd kind of comfort in the fact that she muddled through. She’s sure she’ll muddle through this moment too. Chances are, it will be slightly less catastrophic.

She glances over at Jason, who has already seated himself in one of the enormous chairs and is fastening a gold seat belt buckle.

Yeah, probably only slightly.

miss deviant: Kristen isn't a dumbass. She knows that the helicopter kiss, hell, the whole weekend, opened a door between her and Jason. And now that it's staring her in the face - it's a little scary. I kind of employed a bit of method writing for this section - when I was 20, I remember a really awkward drive back to one of my friend's houses, for the express purpose of having sex. (We had dubbed the picnic table in my parent's backyard SO passe.) Getting on the plane - it's kind of like that drive. That oh-shit-this-is-going-to-happen and there is no way I can extricate myself now awkwardness.

The plane begins to taxi down the rocky surface, bumping over cracked asphalt and sending Kristen staggering across the aisle. She lands in the seat next to Jason and buckles the shiny seat belt with a click before having second thoughts.

The plane has more than two chairs. It has a freaking loveseat, for god’s sake. And yet she has to pick the only seat next to Jason Dohring. Sometimes, Kristen wants to kick her subconscious for being so predictable.

And for consistently reminding her of the glaringly obvious.

The plane begins to pick up speed and the force presses Kristen back into the soft leather padding. Awkward or not, this whole setup is a lot better than Delta.

In her peripheral vision, Kristen watches as Jason’s long fingers drum against the arm rest between them. Either he hates takeoffs too, or - actually, she doesn’t have an “or.” Reading Jason, never an easy task before, has become downright impossible.

You’d think that a boy who refers to you as a “cute dog” and professes that he wants to take care of you in interviews would be predictable when it came to things like carrying through with completely improper - yet oh-so-hot - affairs.

miss deviant: The infamous Dohring interview came out just before we wrote this section.

buffyx: Hahahaha, more shoutouts to Jason's constant fawning of Kristen in interviews. The RPF writes itself, people.

The plane tilts as its wheels leave the ground. Warning, warning! Now entering the Scientology equivalent of international waters! Kristen’s brain screams. Please leave all wedding vows and proclaimed sexual preferences at the metal detector! Enjoy your flight!

Kristen’s fingers tighten on the armrests. Exhaling loudly, she shuts her eyes.

She opens them when she feels Jason’s palm flat against the back of her hand.

“You okay?” Jason’s brow furrows with concern. “I mean, you’re okay now, right? We’re safe. A lifetime of hiding is not in our futures.”

Kristen’s vision goes blurry for a moment and she is almost able to ignore the heat pulsing from Jason’s hand into hers. God. Yet more implications that had never occurred to her. Going into hiding - consequently giving up acting? She supposes that Dawn Ostroff would have managed without Veronica Mars on the fall schedule.

She’s less sure how she would have fared. And as for Jason - well - he’d sooner give up profanity.

“The surviving higher ups will use all their energy to spin Katie’s disappearance,” Jason continues, oblivious. “And it’s not like they can follow us without exposing themselves or whatever.”

Excellent answer. Unfortunately, it’s the wrong question. The question should be: Would you like a parting gift? Perhaps this lovely ring made out of gum wrappers?

buffyx: Ann wrote most of this and I love it. The line about the fall schedule in particular.

miss deviant: A little bit of exposition in there - we wanted to be clear that Jason and Kristen weren't like Josh and Katie - they weren't going to be in danger because of their involvement. I wrote the part about the fall schedule before we had "official" word of renewal. Optimism rules!

“Hey. We’ll be home soon. Everything will go back to normal.”

She loosens her grip on the armrests and jerks her hand out from under Jason’s. She folds her hands on her lap and does not meet his eyes.

“Yeah. Okay. Normal,” she says flatly.

Jason keeps looking at her for a few moments; she can feel it, even while she gazes pointedly out the window, watching the ground rapidly expand and stretch out underneath them as the plane ascends. He says nothing to her after that, and she tells herself she’s glad, but it doesn’t explain why she feels a little like her insides are caving in.

It’s not fair that his silence hurts even more than his wrong, stupid words.

buffyx: She is pissed because she doesn't want it to be normal. Normal is kind of boring.

miss deviant: I had a shirt that said that. It had Fido-Dido on it!

buffyx: I have that too!!! I wore it just the other day!

miss deviant: SERIOUSLY???

buffyx: YES!!

miss deviant: OH MY GOD.

buffyx: It was my mom's. I love it.

miss deviant: I was gonna say. You were like, four when Fido Dido was hip.

buffyx: I've had since I was in, like... first grade. I love that shirt. Fido Dido speaks the truth! Normal IS boring!

miss deviant: WORD.

Her forehead’s still pressed up against the glass when there’s a loud, recurring dinging, and the illuminated seatbelt light above her head flashes off.

“Mr. Dohring, Ms. Bell, we are now at a cruising altitude of twenty-nine thousand feet. We should be arriving at our destination of Santa Monica, California in approximately five and a half hours. You are welcome to roam freely about the cabin until the time of arrival. Enjoy your flight.”

“Thank god,” she mutters under her breath, wrestling with the seatbelt and stumbling past him, into the aisle. She bolts for the bathroom at the back of the plane as fast as humanly possible.

Once inside, Kristen leans up against the sink for a few moments, turns on the tap and splashes a little cold water on her cheeks. She can see in the mirror that Jason isn’t the only one who got his hands messy-there’s a streak of dirt under her left eye, a small, straight cut above her other eyebrow that’s red and angry-looking, but closed up, at least. She makes a mental note for when she gets home to dab some Neosporin on it; hopefully there won’t be a scar.

When she stretches her arms over her head to remove her sweater, Kristen winces. She has the feeling that “I’m gonna be hella sore tomorrow” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

buffyx: I wrote the dash into the bathroom. Because I am transition girl!

miss deviant: Yes you are! But to be fair, we always DISCUSSED transitions. Like "Hey, now Kristen has to run away from Jason as fast as possible!" But that's kind of boring. You made it SPECIALER.

buffyx: Yes, of course.

Folding her sweater neatly, she places it on the closed toilet lid and looks at herself for the first time. The black cotton camisole she has on feels light and airy after hours in a sweater and starched lab coat. Her fingers reach up to her tender shoulder and she begins to inspect herself for bruises that probably haven’t had time to develop yet.

When she sees it, at first she thinks it is a bruise, an angry black smudge that stretches from her back across the top of her shoulder. Then she remembers. Josh’s impeccable timing and the speed at which she had dressed had completely prevented her from examining Jason’s good luck charm.

Kristen twists halfway around, her neck craning for a better view of her left shoulder. Other than the one smudge, the design is remarkably intact. Man, when this company called themselves “Make Up For Ever,” they really meant it.

Finally, she gets a good angle in the mirror and can study the marking properly. From what she can see, it’s two upside-down triangles drawn side-by-side, a large backwards serpentine S hooking them together through the middle. It takes her mind a couple of seconds to register what it is, and then she remembers: the clothing in the Center’s storage facility she’d broken into. The symbols etched into the wall on the top floor. It looks exactly like that, just backwards and tilted on its side or something.

buffyx: The BIG REVEAL of what was painted! Which we knew from the beginning. And planted in some clues along the way.

miss deviant: We were in no way swayed by any feedback. I mean, it wasn't going to be a unicorn or anything, no matter what SOME PEOPLE thought. Hannah actually was the one who came up with the Scientology symbol, which played really well.

When she looks up again, she sees Jason in the mirror behind her, standing silently. Their eyes meet.

“Why?” she asks quietly, without turning around. “Why would you paint their symbol on me, if you hate them so much?”

He keeps his stare on hers, unwavering, in the reflection.

“It is theirs,” he concedes, stepping toward her, crowding her a little against the sink. “It’s considered sacred by the Church. I used to think it represented something… great. Something powerful. That it was something to be, you know. Revered. And then, after I realized-”

Jason stops here, for a long moment, and his eyes flicker down to the symbol; his fingers begin to trace the outline of the ink on her skin lightly. She holds her breath, willing her body not to react to his touch.

“I realized it was powerful. Just not the kind of power that should be worshipped.” He looks back up here again. “So I painted it on you, except I did it wrong-- backwards. Upside down. Because it doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”

“Oh,” she whispers. “So… it’s kind of like burning a cross. Or hanging an American flag upside down on a flag pole.”

“Yeah. Kind of.”

miss deviant: Hannah wrote that. Because, like I said, she came up with it.

buffyx: Allow me to explore my anarchist roots: When I was in high school, I had an American flag sewed upside down on my messenger bag (with the words FUCK PATRIARCHY and assorted slogans written on the stripes in black ink), and I did get some flack for it. Desecrating symbols like that can be really provocative and, in a way, take away from their power, if only for the individual. So I like the meaning, and the fact that he painted it on Kristen because she represents to him all of the opposite values of Scientology-- individuality, freedom, humanity.

miss deviant: Also, it means they are soldiers. With benefits.

buffyx: Yes.

Something like a smile tinges his mouth, but it’s sad, empty, and she feels it, too. Sad. Sad, for him. Sure, she’s not particularly religious these days, hasn’t attended weekly Mass in years- but she was raised with it, went to Catholic school, still believes in God. It’s hard to imagine what it’s like for Jason, who was born into it, who built his world around it and held so tightly onto his faith, only to have it stripped away. To choose the truth over the easy acceptance, no matter how painful the choice.

It’s like she’s seeing something new in him, now.

“Now that you’ve marked me, does that mean we're married?” she teases, trying to break the tension as she turns to face him, finally.

Jason looks at her in surprise, completely serious. “Didn't you know? We’re legally married by Scientology standards.”

There are not enough ellipses for the painfully long pause that follows.

Her brain seems to be short-circuiting as she chokes out, “Um, WHAT?”

He smiles, for real this time. “Relax. I’m kidding.”

miss deviant: DOT DOT DOT!!!

buffyx: Heeeeeeeeee. I love that joke. And that whenever Jason attempts to be funny it gets misinterpreted.

miss deviant: Because it really happens so rarely. If we had a character bible for these guys, it would read something like: "Jason - religious, conflicted, and EARNEST; Kristen - cracks jokes when uncomfortable; Josh - Clooney Junior."

buffyx: Yeah that would be pretty much it!

Kristen’s just about to cash in on that ass-kicking she’d promised, when suddenly, she remembers something. She digs into her back jeans pocket. Pulls out the small Japanese figurine that he’d shown her in the bathroom. In all of the rush, she’d never had the chance to give it back to him.

“I believe this is yours,” she says. “Sorry I didn’t give it back right away. I meant to, but-”

Kristen doesn’t finish, just shrugs and holds it out for him. Jason puts his hand on top of hers, not letting hers go, though. A moment later, he deliberately closes her fingers around the small figurine, pushing it back gently.

“Nah,” he says, “you keep it.”

“What?” Surprised, she looks down at it, then back up at him. “But I thought…”

“I don’t need it anymore,” he assures her.’’

buffyx: The statuette! We had to tie up that loose end. And give them a reason to touch. Touching leads to sex!

miss deviant: Touching leads to sex? Why did no one tell me of this development? I am going to go around touching all the hot guys at the grocery store from now on!

Kristen stares up at him, trying to read Jason’s inscrutable face as he places his hands tentatively on the smallest part of her waist. The fact that she is so small that he can almost encircle her entirely doesn’t escape her. His mouth moves to the stretch of skin between her neck and shoulder, then down to the marking. She turns her back to him again instinctively, allowing him to finish what he had not before: touching his lips to the ink, following the marks of the outline with his mouth, the desecrated symbol.

Her eyelids flutter, and she struggles to keep them open, to watch the movement of his bowed head against her shoulder, his hands rising from her waist, sliding up her ribcage. The hem of her camisole lifts so that she can see a smooth strip of flesh around her middle. His hands move up, up, until they are just below the crease of her breasts.

Her hands lift and clamp over his, and she feels the way her chest expands and contracts under their shared touch. She follows the reflection until she finds his eyes in the mirror.

buffyx: AND I am dead from the hotness. Mirrors are sexy.

miss deviant: This is right up there with the initial painting scene for me. I wrote this scene because there are too many cliche kinks out there - and plenty that I will fess up to writing on many occasions - and I wanted something a little less common but no less hot. It's like having sex in a mirror, but without the whole gross having to watch weird body parts deal. Then again, self voyeurism can be hot too - but we discussed keeping the sex pretty vanilla in this, since most people who had started reading the story probably weren't in it for the explicit sex.

buffyx: Except for the face sitting.

miss deviant: Well, it wasn't WRITTEN explicitly! There was a modicum of decency - but we'll get to that in a moment.

There should be something strange about this, about looking into his eyes and seeing herself, seeing how he is touching her, but there is not, and that embarrasses her more than the touching. She presses on the tops of his fingers, slides his hands down a few inches Not to stop him, but to create enough space between their two bodies so that she can turn.

She does, and if looking into his eyes in the mirror made her weak, it is nothing compared to this.

"This morning, I felt like it was the end of the world. And when I thought you were... gone. There was still so much I wanted to tell you." It’s stupid and ten kinds of cliché, yes, but true.

"Like what?" Jason’s head bows and she can feel his breath on her cheek.

"Oh, you know." She waves her hand. "That my hair dryer would have made a much better weapon."

He moves in closer, his hand rising to her shoulder, tracing the design again.

"Um. And that you can fit more clothes into a suitcase if you roll them up."

He nods. Their faces are inches apart and he is tracing her shoulder and his mouth is open just a little bit in a smile, one that she does and does not recognize. "I'll take that into consideration."

"Also, polo shirts are so last season," she says softly, as a last ditch effort, because his face is less than three inches from hers and his hand is on her shoulder and if she stops talking, he is going to kiss her. Or she is going to kiss him.

One way or another, it is going to happen.

She is going to kiss him, and then she is going to be the dirty mistress, or he is going to kiss her and his marriage will need more saving than it already does.

buffyx: Yeah, I can't even really comment on this because it's just beyond hot. It leaves me incoherent.

miss deviant: Dirty mistresses! Kristen totally watches Grey's Anatomy.

His eyes are liquid and even she can see he is holding back like it HURTS. And she’s trying to hold it back, too, but god, he’s right there and it’s fucking pointless to prolong the inevitable, so finally Kristen gives it all up and says, “Fuck it!”

She closes the space between them, her mouth pressed to his. This time, he returns the favor and kisses her back.

God, does he kiss her back.

His hands are fisted in her hair, his tongue is between her teeth and she is winding her hands in his shirt, up his back, feeling the silk of his hair between her fingers and bringing him closer. He presses forward until she is wedged between the wall and the sink and his body.

And then it hits her: Oh god. They’re really doing this. They’re on a plane and in the bathroom and they’re making out. Even though her hands are a little too busy doing other things to pinch herself, there’s no chandelier or Samuel L. Jackson around, and she knows she isn’t dreaming.

miss deviant: See girls? DREAMS CAN COME TRUE.

Oh god. She can’t do this.

“I can’t,” she protests breathlessly, wrenching her mouth from his, her hands flat against his chest.

“Can’t what?” he asks, lips parted, hair sticking up where she’d run her hand through it.

“I can't just do. This.” She glances around the room, biting her lower lip. “I can't just be your plane sex fuck buddy. I can't have it ‘NOT COUNT.’"

Kristen accompanies the last two words with finger air quotes, trying-and not entirely succeeding-to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

She’s sure that it’s not just her imagination that he looks a little hurt when he asks, "You think that's what this is about?"

“Why else did you say we’ll be home soon and everything will be ‘NORMAL?’” Just saying it digs a cavern in her chest.

“I thought that’s what you wanted. For things to be normal or whatever.” He twists the ring on his left hand self-consciously.

"Oh, you mean, normal like giving interviews where you sing my praises over and over again while simultaneously gushing about your wife?” Kristen’s chin trembles. “You can't keep telling everyone in the world that you're in LOVE with me and expect me not to react! It’s, like, a physiological impossibility!"

buffyx: OVERWIFING!!! And I love finger quotes.

miss deviant: "It's like, a physiological impossibility" sounds like something Brian Krakow would say. Not that Hannah would know, as she has never seen the greatness that is My So Called Life.

buffyx: I have too!! Just. Not every episode. Plus I've read Lalejandra's MSCL fic, so. I know my Krakow!

miss deviant: Okay, let's just say "Hannah has not memorized every episode of MSCL the way I have, which perhaps makes her a better person than I."

buffyx: Well, that is true.

miss deviant: The better person part?

buffyx: No. I'm pretty sure we're both going to hell, so it's hard to judge on that aspect.

miss deviant: My room in hell has a bidet!

“Kristen,” Jason says, “when I said that, I meant...” He stops, mid-sentence, rubbing a hand across his face. “I mean, I admire you, and I’m in love with you- like how you fall in love with your best friends.”

Kristen falters. “I didn't realize we were that… close. Before.”

Ouch. His face falls, and she feels like an idiot for sounding so callous.

“I mean, things are-different now. Obviously,” she pushes on in a rush. “And that’s. Well, frankly it’s kind of scary, but it’s okay and I’m okay with it. Because of course things have to change. I get that. I just need to know that it’s not only changed for me. If we do this, and it doesn’t mean to you what it means to me, I won’t be able to handle it. I can’t live with it being just a thing you did because the rules said you could, or whatever.”

Jason brushes some wispy strands of blonde off of her forehead, letting his hand linger in her hair, waiting until she looks him in the eye.

“It’s not just because we’re on a plane,” he promises slowly, letting each word sink in. “I’ve never even - um - exercised that particular clause.”

She narrows her eyes, skeptical. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirms. “This means something. It does. Kristen, you’re… I don’t know how to really say it, but I think I-”

Before he can finish, she pushes her hand over his mouth.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” she says gently. “Actually, it’s probably better if you don’t.”

It’s probably for the best if they just have this, while they can.

buffyx: More cliches. But still awesome. Obviously.

miss deviant: Bad speculation on JDoh's sex life, but - not only has he exercised the clause, his wife is probably the only person he has ever been with. Which - you know, I'm not going to BASH. But it kind of boggles my mind.

buffyx: It's better not to think about it. Though we DO know he doesn't sleep with fangirls! He said so.

miss deviant: However he has NOT said he does not sleep with Kristen Bell! IT MAY STILL BE CANON!

Onto part two of the commentary.