(no subject)
Fandom: Guiding Light
Title: and i may do it again
Pairing: CC/JL RPS
Rating: PG-13
Summary: And then no kisses happen for at least ten minutes, because her smile is so wide and you’re both laughing too hard, and this, at least, is familiar territory.
Disclaimer: I’m not CC or JL, and this is purely a work of fiction. Title and cut-tag credit to Jill Sobule.
A/N: It’s RPF/S. If you’re not cool with it, don’t read it :). But you can blame CC for the existence of this fic, since she was the one to mention that they practiced.
“We have to kiss.”
It sounds like fear, and surprise, the way the words spill from her lips, echoing loudly into the room. It sounds like surprise, but it shouldn’t. Not after the talks with writers, not after knowing he was leaving, not after building towards this moment. But she still sounds surprised.
“We have to kiss,” she repeats, the words different this time, almost curious. You don’t let it go.
“Correction. I have to kiss you.”
She laughs, and her dimples pop, which you’ve come to learn means that she’s relaxing, beginning to warm up to the idea. The idea that your lips will touch hers in the middle of a scripted argument, and suddenly you realize you’re just as nervous as she sounds. But you’re the veteran in this situation, the seasoned kisser, the one playing the woman who’s slept her way across town. So you’re the one who’s going to have to suck it up.
“Do you want to practice?” you blurt, the words pushing past your lips before your internal censor even has a chance to register them.
Her eyes go big, and you’re finally aware of what you’ve just said. And you realize how weird it is, because you normally do everything in one take on this show, which means that the practicing? Will have to take place on your own time. Maybe off set. And the seemingly innocent question you’ve asked becomes bigger than you thought. But you can’t take it back now. You’ve got to own it.
“Yeah. Practice.”
You say it again, because she’s still giving you that face.
“I. Um. Sure.”
*
You stay late the next day, and the two of you are re-reading the script over red wine and pizza on the couch in your dressing room, letting yourselves get distracted by easy conversation and spontaneous giggles. And it would be so simple to stay that way all evening, speaking in tangents and smiles, but a glance at the clock reminds you you actually have another reason to be here.
So you stand, almost reluctantly, and finish off your wine in one sip. She takes the hint and stands with you, script in hand, and the words slide from the paper into her mouth; into Natalia’s mouth.
And when you begin reading aloud, you start to relax, because you know Olivia, she’s part of you, and all you need to do is get lost in her and this will all be a breeze.
“Well we do! And we may not say it all the time, and I know that we argue about just about everything, but I mean, really, Olivia-“
“Do I have to hit you over the head with this? They think-“
And there it comes, the adrenaline rush you always get when you’re channeling Olivia, and you move in, hands on her face, lips on her lips, and it’s over in a second.
And it doesn’t feel right. It was sloppy and too fast and your lips barely touched. That would not prove Olivia’s point to Natalia. The audience wouldn’t buy it.
“Shit.” It’s all you can muster, because you’re embarrassed by your apparent lack of kissing skills.
You try again, because you’re filming tomorrow, and you’re oddly feeling pressure. But when you say your lines, you let Olivia’s emotions run too high, and the force of it pushes you too fast against her, and your knee bumps the edge of the couch and your lips never touch because she has to catch you from falling instead.
And then no kisses happen for at least ten minutes, because her smile is so wide and you’re both laughing too hard, and this, at least, is familiar territory.
On the seventh try, you’re both over-determined, and have the dialogue so down that you’re starting to feel like a broken record. But this time, after you roll your eyes and raise your voice in Olivia’s incredulity, you move in faster, and your hand is already cupping her cheek. When your lips touch hers, you know you have to hold it longer than you’ve done the other six times. Because this is their on-screen turning point, and the people need to see that.
And she must know it too, you reason, because she’s not pulling away. In fact, her lips are pressing harder, so you do the same, because damnit, you have to get this right. So you do what comes naturally, and let your tongue find hers.
And you’re not prepared for the jolt it sends through you, and you know you should probably stop, but you’re suddenly finding that you can’t, and neither can she. You can’t stop your hand going to her hip, or your tongue tangling with hers harder.
In the end, she’s the one who pulls back, and you notice your hands are shaking and she won’t look at you.
When she does, though, you’re keenly aware that this?
Is not just about Olivia and Natalia anymore.
Title: and i may do it again
Pairing: CC/JL RPS
Rating: PG-13
Summary: And then no kisses happen for at least ten minutes, because her smile is so wide and you’re both laughing too hard, and this, at least, is familiar territory.
Disclaimer: I’m not CC or JL, and this is purely a work of fiction. Title and cut-tag credit to Jill Sobule.
A/N: It’s RPF/S. If you’re not cool with it, don’t read it :). But you can blame CC for the existence of this fic, since she was the one to mention that they practiced.
“We have to kiss.”
It sounds like fear, and surprise, the way the words spill from her lips, echoing loudly into the room. It sounds like surprise, but it shouldn’t. Not after the talks with writers, not after knowing he was leaving, not after building towards this moment. But she still sounds surprised.
“We have to kiss,” she repeats, the words different this time, almost curious. You don’t let it go.
“Correction. I have to kiss you.”
She laughs, and her dimples pop, which you’ve come to learn means that she’s relaxing, beginning to warm up to the idea. The idea that your lips will touch hers in the middle of a scripted argument, and suddenly you realize you’re just as nervous as she sounds. But you’re the veteran in this situation, the seasoned kisser, the one playing the woman who’s slept her way across town. So you’re the one who’s going to have to suck it up.
“Do you want to practice?” you blurt, the words pushing past your lips before your internal censor even has a chance to register them.
Her eyes go big, and you’re finally aware of what you’ve just said. And you realize how weird it is, because you normally do everything in one take on this show, which means that the practicing? Will have to take place on your own time. Maybe off set. And the seemingly innocent question you’ve asked becomes bigger than you thought. But you can’t take it back now. You’ve got to own it.
“Yeah. Practice.”
You say it again, because she’s still giving you that face.
“I. Um. Sure.”
*
You stay late the next day, and the two of you are re-reading the script over red wine and pizza on the couch in your dressing room, letting yourselves get distracted by easy conversation and spontaneous giggles. And it would be so simple to stay that way all evening, speaking in tangents and smiles, but a glance at the clock reminds you you actually have another reason to be here.
So you stand, almost reluctantly, and finish off your wine in one sip. She takes the hint and stands with you, script in hand, and the words slide from the paper into her mouth; into Natalia’s mouth.
And when you begin reading aloud, you start to relax, because you know Olivia, she’s part of you, and all you need to do is get lost in her and this will all be a breeze.
“Well we do! And we may not say it all the time, and I know that we argue about just about everything, but I mean, really, Olivia-“
“Do I have to hit you over the head with this? They think-“
And there it comes, the adrenaline rush you always get when you’re channeling Olivia, and you move in, hands on her face, lips on her lips, and it’s over in a second.
And it doesn’t feel right. It was sloppy and too fast and your lips barely touched. That would not prove Olivia’s point to Natalia. The audience wouldn’t buy it.
“Shit.” It’s all you can muster, because you’re embarrassed by your apparent lack of kissing skills.
You try again, because you’re filming tomorrow, and you’re oddly feeling pressure. But when you say your lines, you let Olivia’s emotions run too high, and the force of it pushes you too fast against her, and your knee bumps the edge of the couch and your lips never touch because she has to catch you from falling instead.
And then no kisses happen for at least ten minutes, because her smile is so wide and you’re both laughing too hard, and this, at least, is familiar territory.
On the seventh try, you’re both over-determined, and have the dialogue so down that you’re starting to feel like a broken record. But this time, after you roll your eyes and raise your voice in Olivia’s incredulity, you move in faster, and your hand is already cupping her cheek. When your lips touch hers, you know you have to hold it longer than you’ve done the other six times. Because this is their on-screen turning point, and the people need to see that.
And she must know it too, you reason, because she’s not pulling away. In fact, her lips are pressing harder, so you do the same, because damnit, you have to get this right. So you do what comes naturally, and let your tongue find hers.
And you’re not prepared for the jolt it sends through you, and you know you should probably stop, but you’re suddenly finding that you can’t, and neither can she. You can’t stop your hand going to her hip, or your tongue tangling with hers harder.
In the end, she’s the one who pulls back, and you notice your hands are shaking and she won’t look at you.
When she does, though, you’re keenly aware that this?
Is not just about Olivia and Natalia anymore.