Undertow -- a TGW (RPF) fic
It’s Matt who Archie clicks with the first, and the fastest. Time with Matt is… it’s laughter and warmth and inside jokes, feels great in that way where it’s the first thing you think about in the morning, when you bury your smile against the cool pillow and linger in bed until guilt drives you out. He’s a gentleman, acts delighted by her, sometimes brushes her hair from her cheek with easy familiarity before looking wistful - for longer than her intelligence should allow, she convinces herself that everything is innocent and no one can get hurt. When Raj isn’t in town, they go out once, twice a week - they’ve laughed their ways through numerous events and plays, Archie’s hand clapped over her mouth to prevent maniacal giggles from Matt’s commentary.
Friends. Good friends.
She likes Julianna from the beginning, too, but is intimidated, a bit. The thing about Jul is that she doesn’t act like she’s better than other people, she just is… and that’s why her boldness is endearing, rather than off-putting, but still Archie can’t imagine being so damn fearless and open about things.. Archie’s been taking notes from their first day together; they are different from one another in so many ways, and that means they can learn from each other. But some of it, she feels, will always be a mystery.
Julianna is talkative and straight-forward, and she speaks about her husband often. They are beautiful together, a couple meant to be photographed, but they are also just good -- Keith adores her, and she’s more than once made unsubtle references to their intimacy with a sly and satisfied smile. They have a Happy Marriage.
Archie doesn’t talk so much about Raj, not with Matt or Jul or anyone -- even though she loves him, even though they are fine, just fine. It’s just… they are apart so often, people don’t understand how that works so it makes things uncomfortable. And even when he is around, she’s just more private than Julianna, doesn’t like to give everything up.
--
She gets teased for it sometimes - how easy it is to fluster her. Sometimes Julianna gives her arched eyebrows and amused, knowing smirks, and half the time Archie can’t even decipher what they mean. “What? What?” Archie had asked insistently after her sixth take kissing Lili, and the make-up people were studiously attempting to reapply her lipstick, Black Cherry Shine.
A delicate raise of her shoulder, and Jul had sipped nonchalantly at her pink breast cancer awareness travel mug. “Our work’s great, hmm?” was all she said before turning and heading back to her own corner of the sound stage, leaving Archie to wonder what she was doing in this corner, anyway.
All Archie knew is that she was left blushing furiously.
--
So. It’s unsurprising that Julianna is the one who doesn’t bullshit around the Matt thing.
“That boy’s got it bad for you,” Julianna announces at lunch one day, when everybody else has wandered off
“No. We’re friends. It’s just playing. Just for fun.”
“For you, maybe.”
It’s a realization she’s fought true knowledge of it, but no one had ever made her confront it before; it makes her look down at her twisting fingers that don’t wear a wedding ring, a shameful heat rising to her face, her throat.
“Hey, don’t feel bad,” Jul tells her, earnest. "You're fun to be with, and sexy, and people fall in love with you. It's not your fault. I say enjoy it; Lord knows I used to.
But she knows it’s not fair, not to herself, but definitely not to him. “I should talk to him.”
It is the fact that Julianna looks impressed with her that makes her go through with it.
--
What makes it the hardest is that Matt so obviously adores her, and she likes that so much.
Squaring her shoulders, she tries to sound sure of herself. “I think maybe we should maybe… not spend so much time together, for awhile.” Her voice trips over the words because she truly, truly dislikes them, and there goes the confidence. She can’t meet his eyes, quite.
For an actor, Matt’s face is so transparent in this universe; there’s realization, then shame. He’s probably wondering if he’s done something wrong, if her husband has questioned their relationship. “You know I wouldn’t… I mean, I wouldn’t try to…”
“I know,” she interrupts, and she does, because he’s a good guy, and he cares about her. “It’s just… better.” (Except that it doesn’t feel better, but that’s not the point.)
If he fights it, she’s not sure she can stay strong, and this is hard. But of course he doesn’t. “Yeah. Okay.” He gives her that smile that he saves for her, but there’s melancholy there that wasn’t before and it sort of makes her want to cry. “Guess I’m going to have to find a hobby, huh? Philately, or something.”
“I always pictured you gardening,” she says, into his chest because he’s hugging her now, and briefly, madly, she wishes they weren’t so mature.
--
“Cheer up, princess.” Impossibly long legs taking up too much room on the sofa, Julianna is the one who looks like royalty. She’s flipping through their script but seems unconcerned that most of their reading time has been taken up by Archie’s sulking.
“I don’t know many other people in this town, y’know?”
A skeptical eyebrow. “Give me a break. You have lots of friends, and a lot of people who want to be your friend.”
“People who I actually want to spend time with.” Archie’s fingers are tap-tap-tapping on the coffee table, a nervous habit that’s probably annoying. “We were going to Shakespeare in the Park on Monday. Suppose that’s off.”
“Picky,” Jul chides, but the arm she puts about her shoulder is comforting and affectionate. “That’s it. I’m coming to your place on Monday. We’re having margaritas.”
“You have better things to do than minding me.” Now she knows she’s being pouting and whingey.
“Shh. Moms need breaks too. Buy tequila. And I like my drinks strong. Just so you know.”
In spite of her gloominess, Archie can’t resist half a smile.
--
It becomes a thing, then… Monday nights. Sometimes margaritas, sometimes wine, sometimes beer, always a pleasant distraction. Julianna doesn’t seem to mind that Archie is sparing on the personal, and talks with her easily about everything else, or doesn’t, or they sit and watch bad reality shows or real tv or the news. Archie’s always a little more British after she’s been drinking awhile, and once Jul nearly falls off the couch laughing when, in an uncharacteristic moment of impoliteness and pique, Archie points at the screen and pronounces Sarah Palin a daft, tea-bagging bint.
“I think I like you, Archana,” Julianna teases after she composes herself, nudging at the corners of her eyes with a knuckle. “Love, maybe.”
Archie grins like a fool, liking her real name better than she ever has before, and the longer they spend together the more human Julianna feels.
--
It’s so easy to get used to things, she thinks; get used to her. Archie’s still in awe of Julianna, a little - she knows a lot of smart people, a lot of beautiful people, but Jul seems to seamlessly blend confidence and class… she’s the only person Archie knows who can say “fuck you” while sounding perfectly ladylike, always elegant. And beautiful, the poetry of hair against skin, dark and light, a porcelain doll with a dirty mouth and a mischievous smile.
And… it’s nice, having a girlfriend. Different than her time with Matt; not better, necessarily, but more relaxed, and there’s not that guilt there that she had with him, that she might somehow be keeping him from having more of a life - that he could be out on dates with someone else, someone available, if Archie weren’t selfishly keeping him to herself. Julianna already has her Forever and Ever secured, and it’s a good thing to have in common. No pressure. No shame.
As time goes by, they just get close. A perfectly normal thing for two women to do.
--
Lawrence is an opera singer who lives in her building - countertenor, comprimario, pure diva - who has just finished his season of La Traviata and has plenty of time on his hands to guilt Archie about not making the most of this fabulous city. He wants her to attend a charity event with him; it involves dressing up, fancy hair and make-up and hobnobbing, dancing and cocktails. All basic activities for a small-screen celebrity, good for business and fun, she should want to do this.
“Come on. You’re in the Hot 100 and you live like you’re seventy. Come out with me,” he wheedles her, and she has to laugh because he is amusing and she likes him well enough.
Except… this thing he wants her to do, it’s on a Monday.
That’s when she realizes she’d rather lounge barefoot on the couch talking to Julianna about nothing in particular, than go out, socialize, make new friends, or go out with her old ones. On Monday night, or any night.
And there was that time - just that one time - when she hesitated just a second before rejecting her husband’s incoming call from London, because Jul was in the kitchen getting more wine and The Bachelor was about to start (she had promised Archie she’d never tell anyone they watched it, looking solemn as their pinkies intertwined).
This is all… strange, she’s pretty sure.
Lawrence sighs dramatically when she politely declines anyway, telling him and herself next time, next time.
--
“Opera, hmm?” Jul asks, cleanly excising pineapple slices from their prickly exterior. They’re in her place tonight, and Archie has to sidestep the occasional brightly-colored plastic toy strewn about the kitchen. “You sure he doesn’t want to fuck you? Here, try this, it’s incredible.”
Archie pauses the sangria mixing, leans over and delicately accepts the fruit between her lips and makes a sound of approval at bright, sweet-sour flavor. “I’m not his type,” after she’s done chewing.
“What do you mean? Gay?”
“Yeah.”
“So what?”
This makes Archie giggle. “Maybe you want to Google the meaning of ‘gay’.”
“I know what gay is. I also know you. And you defy these things.” Julianna’s still studiously slicing; her hair swings down and obscures her face, hiding it from Archie’s surreptitious glance.
She tries very hard to keep her voice conversational. “Oh, really?”
“Mmm-hmm. You change people, Archana.” There’s no elaboration, and Archie is trying very hard to decide on the appropriate response when there’s a clatter from somewhere in the house, followed by a plaintive, child-sized wail. Jul pauses a good few seconds, to see if it stops. “Everything okay in there?”
A beat before the reply. “Yeah, could probably use your help, babe,” came Keith’s voice.
“Shit,” she sighs, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “I bet he let him climb on the patio furniture again. Somebody’s gonna get their neck broken, and it might not be Kier.” She brushes Archie’s shoulder as she passes, a completely unnecessary gesture. “I’ll be right back. And don’t have kids. Not because they’re not great. Just because I need a quiet place to go to sometimes.”
But Archie’s hardly listening, and she spends the rest of the evening trying to decide if she might have been flirted with, and why the thought of it pleases her so bloody much.
--
It becomes more apparent the next Sunday morning, when Archie is waking up slowly, luxuriously stretching and twisting in her soft sheets. She wonders, idly, if Julianna is still in bed… Kieran gets up early, but maybe she still steals a little extra time on the weekends, maybe Keith lets her sleep in. She wonders how Jul sleeps, light or heavy, limbs spread across the bed or contained to her side. She wonders what she dreams about, if she…
And she’s thinking about her. Not just this morning, but every one, just like she used to with Matt.
“Who’s the daft bint now, Archana,” she mutters aloud as she throws off the covers and swings her legs to the floor, unable to relax anymore. It doesn’t occur to her until much later that she never, never thinks of herself by her full first name, and how much worse that makes it that's she's not only thinking of Julianna, but like her now, too.
--
During a break between takes, Matt sits next to her, dressed as Cary, while she’s stirring her Assam tea (sent by her family; it just doesn’t taste the same when she buys it in America); he nudges her with his elbow, asks what she’s been doing lately. And she looks at him dumbly for a moment because what she’s been doing is thinking of the of curve of Julianna’s shoulders when her hair’s pulled up, the dusting of light freckles that the cameras don’t pick up - staring like a moony teenage girl.
He tells her he misses her, and she returns the sentiment. And she does miss him, but truthfully… she’s distracted.
Maybe she’s just easily distracted.
Jul walks past; eyes them, then winks. Archie’s heart flutters hard.
Yes, she’s more than distracted. She’s screwed.
--
Another Monday night, Archie’s place, and one too many mojitos. It makes Archie looser, more affectionate, and she rests against Julianna’s side, head tipped onto her shoulder. Julianna accepts the physical contact easily, returns it in kind like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and that’s exactly what it feels like.
“I think I have a problem,” Archie sighs with melodramatic tipsiness, and her friend’s cheek is warm at her hairline.
“Hmm?” Julianna asks, uncharacteristically placid in this moment, in the quiet.
Archie shifts her face, speaks into Julianna’s skin. “I think I might love you too much.”
The responding chuckle is low and throaty; Jul cranes her neck to press a kiss to Archie’s forehead. “No such thing as too much love.”
But there is… or maybe not too much, but the wrong kind, and if she’d learned anything from Matt she’d be mature and not nurture this right now, she’d back away and save herself.
Julianna’s hair smells like powder; Archie burrows in closer, into the arms that wrap around her, and it’s so much for being mature.
--
She thinks it would never really happen; it’s all fantasy, a schoolgirl crush, and Archie is a grown-up and knows better. But if it did happen, in the world of what-if’s and maybes, it would make sense that it would be when they were drunk.
So it is to Archie’s complete surprise when it comes in the sober (if dimming) light of day, after a particularly long table read where Josh keeps pulling out his Charles Bronson accent and Christine keeps cracking up and yes, it is an uncanny imitation, but exhaustion is wearing on Archie like fine-grained sandpaper and all she wants to do is be done. Julianna walks her to her dressing room when it’s over, muttering under her breath. “I’ve got a cure for your dandruff problem. Asshole.” But her Bronson sounds like James Cagney.
“He’s funny,” Archie insists as she jiggles her key in the lock, despite being utterly knackered, close to collapsing.
“You’re too sweet, you know that? You should try to bitch it up a little.”
A smile tugs at Archie’s lips as the door opens; she leans on the doorjamb. “You think?”
Beside Archie’s head, Julianna rests her hand on the wall, fingernails painted red. She’s teasing, doing that easy-friendly-flirty thing. “It’s refreshing when you do, I’ll tell you.”
“I’ll try, next time. Only for you.”
Apparently, she’s not too tired for this game; it’s almost too simple to go with it.
“That’s all I ask,” Julianna replies, but her playful eyes ask for other things, and why, why does feel like the end of a date, like those moments where you linger on the porch wondering if you should stop the banter and just get to the thing you’ve been thinking about all night, that thing…
“I s’pose I’ll see you tomorrow?” Archie asks instead, because there’s no good excuse to stay outside the door, and she’s really being very silly.
“Sure.“ Jul leans down to press a kiss goodbye to her cheek, a gesture she's made dozens of times.
Something happens then; a burst of boldness, or maybe just impatience - impatience with the admiring from afar, looking without touching, with not being like Jul, who just says and does the things she wants without worrying so damn much about the consequences. Whatever, however, Archie turns her face at the last minute and there it is, and she swears her head spins, she can hear her own pulse and feel it at the place their lips meet.
It’s light, a spring breeze against overheated skin, tickling and soft and pleasant -- at the most, slightly improper in the form of persistence, the way neither of them make a move to separate for long, humming seconds.
When they do, Archie doesn’t want to open her eyes. Doesn’t want to see Julianna laughing at her, pitying her.
But when she forces herself to do it, she sees something else that looks a whole lot like admiration.
“That’s my girl,” Julianna murmurs, reaching out to curl a finger around a loose tendril of dark hair, run a thumb over Archie’s still-tingling lower lip. Jul’s mouth turns up, secretive and warm in that way it does when she’s about to say or do something particularly mischievous, and for a heart-stopping second Archie thinks she’s going to come back, with intent this time. And if that happens…
There’s nothing then to stop her mind from taking a screeching turn into that land of what-if’s… it has them stumbling back into the small space of the dressing room, tongues and teeth and plush lips and a slammed door, hands pushing, yanking at clothes. A commanding pull of her hair, a pressing open of her knees. It has Jul’s fingers between her legs, stroking slow, then fast, and she’s urging Archie in breathless, cursing whispers, that’s it, that’s my girl when she finally…
“Have a good night.” A final, affectionate stroke of Archie’s chin, and Julianna moves to turn away.
The reality of the situation hits Archie as fast as the fantasy had - their friendship, possibly squandered for the sake of a crush, a daydream, a moment - and she feels awful. She lays a hand on Jul’s arm, stopping her from leaving. “Sorry,” she says softly. “I’m just… tired.” (Because people always kiss when they’re tired, stupid, stupid, but she has to fix it.)
Julianna laughs fondly, and says “Don’t be,” before her smile fades, face falling into pensiveness. She studies Archie seriously, direct eye contact and not at all shy, and God, Archie wishes she could be more like her. “You know if it would be anyone, it would be you. Right?”
She hadn’t known it, but she knows Julianna doesn’t say things she doesn’t mean and it’s satisfying to hear it, that’s she’s not alone or crazy - even if it doesn’t change anything.
They clasp hands, then part with wistful smiles. Archie heads into her dressing room on wobbly legs. She’ll make herself a cup of tea, call her husband because she’s traveling back to London in a few weeks and they can be together again for while and maybe things will make sense again.
--
Instead, she calls Matt - not to tell him, because that would make her horrible, but because he always has this way of making her believe that everything she is, is beautiful and wonderful and fantastic and she really, really needs this right now. But he hears her voice and just knows her.
“It’s rough, isn’t it?” he asks, not even bothering to ask if he’s right. “Our profession makes it all look so romantic, but it just sucks.”
The phone is too hot at her ear, and it feels like her heart. “Does it get better? Does it go away?”
“Sure. Eventually. Until the next time,” he chuckles ruefully, and she sighs and closes her eyes and wonders if this is just the way things go, in this strange in-between universe of too many beautiful people and a million what-if’s.
--
A/N: I also wrote this little K/A thing for the femslash_today porn battle; eventually I'll archive it but it felt too short to post as a stand-alone. Guess I should get to writing other ficlets for a group post, hmm. *ponders*
--
Friends. Good friends.
She likes Julianna from the beginning, too, but is intimidated, a bit. The thing about Jul is that she doesn’t act like she’s better than other people, she just is… and that’s why her boldness is endearing, rather than off-putting, but still Archie can’t imagine being so damn fearless and open about things.. Archie’s been taking notes from their first day together; they are different from one another in so many ways, and that means they can learn from each other. But some of it, she feels, will always be a mystery.
Julianna is talkative and straight-forward, and she speaks about her husband often. They are beautiful together, a couple meant to be photographed, but they are also just good -- Keith adores her, and she’s more than once made unsubtle references to their intimacy with a sly and satisfied smile. They have a Happy Marriage.
Archie doesn’t talk so much about Raj, not with Matt or Jul or anyone -- even though she loves him, even though they are fine, just fine. It’s just… they are apart so often, people don’t understand how that works so it makes things uncomfortable. And even when he is around, she’s just more private than Julianna, doesn’t like to give everything up.
--
She gets teased for it sometimes - how easy it is to fluster her. Sometimes Julianna gives her arched eyebrows and amused, knowing smirks, and half the time Archie can’t even decipher what they mean. “What? What?” Archie had asked insistently after her sixth take kissing Lili, and the make-up people were studiously attempting to reapply her lipstick, Black Cherry Shine.
A delicate raise of her shoulder, and Jul had sipped nonchalantly at her pink breast cancer awareness travel mug. “Our work’s great, hmm?” was all she said before turning and heading back to her own corner of the sound stage, leaving Archie to wonder what she was doing in this corner, anyway.
All Archie knew is that she was left blushing furiously.
--
So. It’s unsurprising that Julianna is the one who doesn’t bullshit around the Matt thing.
“That boy’s got it bad for you,” Julianna announces at lunch one day, when everybody else has wandered off
“No. We’re friends. It’s just playing. Just for fun.”
“For you, maybe.”
It’s a realization she’s fought true knowledge of it, but no one had ever made her confront it before; it makes her look down at her twisting fingers that don’t wear a wedding ring, a shameful heat rising to her face, her throat.
“Hey, don’t feel bad,” Jul tells her, earnest. "You're fun to be with, and sexy, and people fall in love with you. It's not your fault. I say enjoy it; Lord knows I used to.
But she knows it’s not fair, not to herself, but definitely not to him. “I should talk to him.”
It is the fact that Julianna looks impressed with her that makes her go through with it.
--
What makes it the hardest is that Matt so obviously adores her, and she likes that so much.
Squaring her shoulders, she tries to sound sure of herself. “I think maybe we should maybe… not spend so much time together, for awhile.” Her voice trips over the words because she truly, truly dislikes them, and there goes the confidence. She can’t meet his eyes, quite.
For an actor, Matt’s face is so transparent in this universe; there’s realization, then shame. He’s probably wondering if he’s done something wrong, if her husband has questioned their relationship. “You know I wouldn’t… I mean, I wouldn’t try to…”
“I know,” she interrupts, and she does, because he’s a good guy, and he cares about her. “It’s just… better.” (Except that it doesn’t feel better, but that’s not the point.)
If he fights it, she’s not sure she can stay strong, and this is hard. But of course he doesn’t. “Yeah. Okay.” He gives her that smile that he saves for her, but there’s melancholy there that wasn’t before and it sort of makes her want to cry. “Guess I’m going to have to find a hobby, huh? Philately, or something.”
“I always pictured you gardening,” she says, into his chest because he’s hugging her now, and briefly, madly, she wishes they weren’t so mature.
--
“Cheer up, princess.” Impossibly long legs taking up too much room on the sofa, Julianna is the one who looks like royalty. She’s flipping through their script but seems unconcerned that most of their reading time has been taken up by Archie’s sulking.
“I don’t know many other people in this town, y’know?”
A skeptical eyebrow. “Give me a break. You have lots of friends, and a lot of people who want to be your friend.”
“People who I actually want to spend time with.” Archie’s fingers are tap-tap-tapping on the coffee table, a nervous habit that’s probably annoying. “We were going to Shakespeare in the Park on Monday. Suppose that’s off.”
“Picky,” Jul chides, but the arm she puts about her shoulder is comforting and affectionate. “That’s it. I’m coming to your place on Monday. We’re having margaritas.”
“You have better things to do than minding me.” Now she knows she’s being pouting and whingey.
“Shh. Moms need breaks too. Buy tequila. And I like my drinks strong. Just so you know.”
In spite of her gloominess, Archie can’t resist half a smile.
--
It becomes a thing, then… Monday nights. Sometimes margaritas, sometimes wine, sometimes beer, always a pleasant distraction. Julianna doesn’t seem to mind that Archie is sparing on the personal, and talks with her easily about everything else, or doesn’t, or they sit and watch bad reality shows or real tv or the news. Archie’s always a little more British after she’s been drinking awhile, and once Jul nearly falls off the couch laughing when, in an uncharacteristic moment of impoliteness and pique, Archie points at the screen and pronounces Sarah Palin a daft, tea-bagging bint.
“I think I like you, Archana,” Julianna teases after she composes herself, nudging at the corners of her eyes with a knuckle. “Love, maybe.”
Archie grins like a fool, liking her real name better than she ever has before, and the longer they spend together the more human Julianna feels.
--
It’s so easy to get used to things, she thinks; get used to her. Archie’s still in awe of Julianna, a little - she knows a lot of smart people, a lot of beautiful people, but Jul seems to seamlessly blend confidence and class… she’s the only person Archie knows who can say “fuck you” while sounding perfectly ladylike, always elegant. And beautiful, the poetry of hair against skin, dark and light, a porcelain doll with a dirty mouth and a mischievous smile.
And… it’s nice, having a girlfriend. Different than her time with Matt; not better, necessarily, but more relaxed, and there’s not that guilt there that she had with him, that she might somehow be keeping him from having more of a life - that he could be out on dates with someone else, someone available, if Archie weren’t selfishly keeping him to herself. Julianna already has her Forever and Ever secured, and it’s a good thing to have in common. No pressure. No shame.
As time goes by, they just get close. A perfectly normal thing for two women to do.
--
Lawrence is an opera singer who lives in her building - countertenor, comprimario, pure diva - who has just finished his season of La Traviata and has plenty of time on his hands to guilt Archie about not making the most of this fabulous city. He wants her to attend a charity event with him; it involves dressing up, fancy hair and make-up and hobnobbing, dancing and cocktails. All basic activities for a small-screen celebrity, good for business and fun, she should want to do this.
“Come on. You’re in the Hot 100 and you live like you’re seventy. Come out with me,” he wheedles her, and she has to laugh because he is amusing and she likes him well enough.
Except… this thing he wants her to do, it’s on a Monday.
That’s when she realizes she’d rather lounge barefoot on the couch talking to Julianna about nothing in particular, than go out, socialize, make new friends, or go out with her old ones. On Monday night, or any night.
And there was that time - just that one time - when she hesitated just a second before rejecting her husband’s incoming call from London, because Jul was in the kitchen getting more wine and The Bachelor was about to start (she had promised Archie she’d never tell anyone they watched it, looking solemn as their pinkies intertwined).
This is all… strange, she’s pretty sure.
Lawrence sighs dramatically when she politely declines anyway, telling him and herself next time, next time.
--
“Opera, hmm?” Jul asks, cleanly excising pineapple slices from their prickly exterior. They’re in her place tonight, and Archie has to sidestep the occasional brightly-colored plastic toy strewn about the kitchen. “You sure he doesn’t want to fuck you? Here, try this, it’s incredible.”
Archie pauses the sangria mixing, leans over and delicately accepts the fruit between her lips and makes a sound of approval at bright, sweet-sour flavor. “I’m not his type,” after she’s done chewing.
“What do you mean? Gay?”
“Yeah.”
“So what?”
This makes Archie giggle. “Maybe you want to Google the meaning of ‘gay’.”
“I know what gay is. I also know you. And you defy these things.” Julianna’s still studiously slicing; her hair swings down and obscures her face, hiding it from Archie’s surreptitious glance.
She tries very hard to keep her voice conversational. “Oh, really?”
“Mmm-hmm. You change people, Archana.” There’s no elaboration, and Archie is trying very hard to decide on the appropriate response when there’s a clatter from somewhere in the house, followed by a plaintive, child-sized wail. Jul pauses a good few seconds, to see if it stops. “Everything okay in there?”
A beat before the reply. “Yeah, could probably use your help, babe,” came Keith’s voice.
“Shit,” she sighs, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “I bet he let him climb on the patio furniture again. Somebody’s gonna get their neck broken, and it might not be Kier.” She brushes Archie’s shoulder as she passes, a completely unnecessary gesture. “I’ll be right back. And don’t have kids. Not because they’re not great. Just because I need a quiet place to go to sometimes.”
But Archie’s hardly listening, and she spends the rest of the evening trying to decide if she might have been flirted with, and why the thought of it pleases her so bloody much.
--
It becomes more apparent the next Sunday morning, when Archie is waking up slowly, luxuriously stretching and twisting in her soft sheets. She wonders, idly, if Julianna is still in bed… Kieran gets up early, but maybe she still steals a little extra time on the weekends, maybe Keith lets her sleep in. She wonders how Jul sleeps, light or heavy, limbs spread across the bed or contained to her side. She wonders what she dreams about, if she…
And she’s thinking about her. Not just this morning, but every one, just like she used to with Matt.
“Who’s the daft bint now, Archana,” she mutters aloud as she throws off the covers and swings her legs to the floor, unable to relax anymore. It doesn’t occur to her until much later that she never, never thinks of herself by her full first name, and how much worse that makes it that's she's not only thinking of Julianna, but like her now, too.
--
During a break between takes, Matt sits next to her, dressed as Cary, while she’s stirring her Assam tea (sent by her family; it just doesn’t taste the same when she buys it in America); he nudges her with his elbow, asks what she’s been doing lately. And she looks at him dumbly for a moment because what she’s been doing is thinking of the of curve of Julianna’s shoulders when her hair’s pulled up, the dusting of light freckles that the cameras don’t pick up - staring like a moony teenage girl.
He tells her he misses her, and she returns the sentiment. And she does miss him, but truthfully… she’s distracted.
Maybe she’s just easily distracted.
Jul walks past; eyes them, then winks. Archie’s heart flutters hard.
Yes, she’s more than distracted. She’s screwed.
--
Another Monday night, Archie’s place, and one too many mojitos. It makes Archie looser, more affectionate, and she rests against Julianna’s side, head tipped onto her shoulder. Julianna accepts the physical contact easily, returns it in kind like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and that’s exactly what it feels like.
“I think I have a problem,” Archie sighs with melodramatic tipsiness, and her friend’s cheek is warm at her hairline.
“Hmm?” Julianna asks, uncharacteristically placid in this moment, in the quiet.
Archie shifts her face, speaks into Julianna’s skin. “I think I might love you too much.”
The responding chuckle is low and throaty; Jul cranes her neck to press a kiss to Archie’s forehead. “No such thing as too much love.”
But there is… or maybe not too much, but the wrong kind, and if she’d learned anything from Matt she’d be mature and not nurture this right now, she’d back away and save herself.
Julianna’s hair smells like powder; Archie burrows in closer, into the arms that wrap around her, and it’s so much for being mature.
--
She thinks it would never really happen; it’s all fantasy, a schoolgirl crush, and Archie is a grown-up and knows better. But if it did happen, in the world of what-if’s and maybes, it would make sense that it would be when they were drunk.
So it is to Archie’s complete surprise when it comes in the sober (if dimming) light of day, after a particularly long table read where Josh keeps pulling out his Charles Bronson accent and Christine keeps cracking up and yes, it is an uncanny imitation, but exhaustion is wearing on Archie like fine-grained sandpaper and all she wants to do is be done. Julianna walks her to her dressing room when it’s over, muttering under her breath. “I’ve got a cure for your dandruff problem. Asshole.” But her Bronson sounds like James Cagney.
“He’s funny,” Archie insists as she jiggles her key in the lock, despite being utterly knackered, close to collapsing.
“You’re too sweet, you know that? You should try to bitch it up a little.”
A smile tugs at Archie’s lips as the door opens; she leans on the doorjamb. “You think?”
Beside Archie’s head, Julianna rests her hand on the wall, fingernails painted red. She’s teasing, doing that easy-friendly-flirty thing. “It’s refreshing when you do, I’ll tell you.”
“I’ll try, next time. Only for you.”
Apparently, she’s not too tired for this game; it’s almost too simple to go with it.
“That’s all I ask,” Julianna replies, but her playful eyes ask for other things, and why, why does feel like the end of a date, like those moments where you linger on the porch wondering if you should stop the banter and just get to the thing you’ve been thinking about all night, that thing…
“I s’pose I’ll see you tomorrow?” Archie asks instead, because there’s no good excuse to stay outside the door, and she’s really being very silly.
“Sure.“ Jul leans down to press a kiss goodbye to her cheek, a gesture she's made dozens of times.
Something happens then; a burst of boldness, or maybe just impatience - impatience with the admiring from afar, looking without touching, with not being like Jul, who just says and does the things she wants without worrying so damn much about the consequences. Whatever, however, Archie turns her face at the last minute and there it is, and she swears her head spins, she can hear her own pulse and feel it at the place their lips meet.
It’s light, a spring breeze against overheated skin, tickling and soft and pleasant -- at the most, slightly improper in the form of persistence, the way neither of them make a move to separate for long, humming seconds.
When they do, Archie doesn’t want to open her eyes. Doesn’t want to see Julianna laughing at her, pitying her.
But when she forces herself to do it, she sees something else that looks a whole lot like admiration.
“That’s my girl,” Julianna murmurs, reaching out to curl a finger around a loose tendril of dark hair, run a thumb over Archie’s still-tingling lower lip. Jul’s mouth turns up, secretive and warm in that way it does when she’s about to say or do something particularly mischievous, and for a heart-stopping second Archie thinks she’s going to come back, with intent this time. And if that happens…
There’s nothing then to stop her mind from taking a screeching turn into that land of what-if’s… it has them stumbling back into the small space of the dressing room, tongues and teeth and plush lips and a slammed door, hands pushing, yanking at clothes. A commanding pull of her hair, a pressing open of her knees. It has Jul’s fingers between her legs, stroking slow, then fast, and she’s urging Archie in breathless, cursing whispers, that’s it, that’s my girl when she finally…
“Have a good night.” A final, affectionate stroke of Archie’s chin, and Julianna moves to turn away.
The reality of the situation hits Archie as fast as the fantasy had - their friendship, possibly squandered for the sake of a crush, a daydream, a moment - and she feels awful. She lays a hand on Jul’s arm, stopping her from leaving. “Sorry,” she says softly. “I’m just… tired.” (Because people always kiss when they’re tired, stupid, stupid, but she has to fix it.)
Julianna laughs fondly, and says “Don’t be,” before her smile fades, face falling into pensiveness. She studies Archie seriously, direct eye contact and not at all shy, and God, Archie wishes she could be more like her. “You know if it would be anyone, it would be you. Right?”
She hadn’t known it, but she knows Julianna doesn’t say things she doesn’t mean and it’s satisfying to hear it, that’s she’s not alone or crazy - even if it doesn’t change anything.
They clasp hands, then part with wistful smiles. Archie heads into her dressing room on wobbly legs. She’ll make herself a cup of tea, call her husband because she’s traveling back to London in a few weeks and they can be together again for while and maybe things will make sense again.
--
Instead, she calls Matt - not to tell him, because that would make her horrible, but because he always has this way of making her believe that everything she is, is beautiful and wonderful and fantastic and she really, really needs this right now. But he hears her voice and just knows her.
“It’s rough, isn’t it?” he asks, not even bothering to ask if he’s right. “Our profession makes it all look so romantic, but it just sucks.”
The phone is too hot at her ear, and it feels like her heart. “Does it get better? Does it go away?”
“Sure. Eventually. Until the next time,” he chuckles ruefully, and she sighs and closes her eyes and wonders if this is just the way things go, in this strange in-between universe of too many beautiful people and a million what-if’s.
--
A/N: I also wrote this little K/A thing for the femslash_today porn battle; eventually I'll archive it but it felt too short to post as a stand-alone. Guess I should get to writing other ficlets for a group post, hmm. *ponders*
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