Idiots (M/K)
I've finally done it! I've written another M/K fic! It actually started out completely different to where it eventually ended up so I'm sorry for the suckiness of what you're about to read.
I'm not exactly the greatest at the 'happy' thing so some angst managed its way into this one, but generally, it's a cheery one. (; And besides, Arthur's there scolding the two. Need I say more? ;P
Title: Idiots
Summary: Because if there’s anything more entertaining than Johnny Depp, cursed gold and The Black Pearl, it’s each others’ smiles.
Spoilers: None.
Word count: 1,311 words.
Disclaimer: I don't own Matt or Karen, oh but the things I'd do if I did own them...
His bell rang, loud and resonating, but not as loud and large as the smile that started to grow upon his face was. He knew exactly who it was behind that door. That flaming red hair burning like new-years’ fireworks against the dark, dim wallpaper of his hotel’s corridor, that unvarying, bright smile - the smile that’s gotten him through the impossible every time he thought he couldn’t - and probably another one of those striking, almost-too revealing short skirts she purposely puts on for their movie nights.
The tradition only started out with a cold, late night of shooting one of the most emotionally draining scenes they’ve had to shoot in ages. He felt so void and empty afterwards, and she was still in tears - every tear drop of hers crashing against the sand of the beach with a loud thud to his ear and a sharp crack within his heart. He wanted to hug her, to hold her, to keep her in his arms where she’ll be safe and unharmed and where her tears will never fall again. But that wasn’t his job. His job was to play dead. To just lie there while she cried and cradled him in her trembling arms, her acid tears practically burning holds through the tweed of his jacket and right through his crackling heart.
As soon as Karen heard Toby’s half-mumbled whisper to cut the scene, she pulled back, rubbing away her tears but still struggling to keep the rest of them from tripping out. Her breaths were short and shaky, her voice wavering greatly, like a unsteady bridge on the brink of collapse. As soon as the scene was done, everyone on set was too exhausted. They didn’t do much running or walking around but watching her cry like that, her heart practically forcing its way out her throat while her eyes burned redder than they’ve ever before, they just felt so tired.
Matt followed her to her lonely corner on the beach. She was throwing pebbles (pebbles? Where’d she get pebbles on this completely-sandy beach?) into the water. She watched them jump once or twice across the seemingly-endless waters, bouncy and full of life then they drowned as they lost their strength. Her eyes were empty, her face motionless. He’d never seen her so void of emotions before. She was all smiles, brightening up every corner of the room she entered. Now everything was dark without her smile present. He couldn’t bare that...and so he fixed it.
They went back to his place that night. He bought her cupcakes - her favourites - and popped in a movie (not that they watched. They were too busy staring at each other to watch the movie.) And so they went on like this. Every time one of them felt down, they’d head over to Matt’s and watch a movie while eating their favourite snacks. But the tradition became a daily practice when Karen was too lazy to go all the way back to her flat - which was, in all fairness, a bit further than his. Some of her clothes started to make their way into his wardrobe and she’d accidentally wear one of his jackets to set some days. The crew would give them knowing looks and Arthur would crack another one of his jokes, not that they ever understood what any of that meant. She’d even put on Matt’s pink and yellow striped jumper once. Neither of them noticed because exchanging clothes became somewhat part of the tradition, but the disconcerting look Steven had given her on the read-through table made her want to run away and hide. He looked at the both of them and snorted under his breath, with Arthur following his lead. Just about the entire table broke into fits of little giggles after that, with Matt and Karen slap-bang in the middle of it, drenched in absolute confusion. They looked at each other, shrugged it off and retracted into their happy, little, bubbly corner of the world.
Tonight she had cheap booze in one hand and the entire Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy in the other. He had to admit, there was nothing better than Karen’s taste in movies - except Karen herself, maybe. Plus, she had alcohol. He’d welcome a serial killer right into his flat if the killer offered to give him alcohol before killing him. But Karen wasn’t going to kill him - not in the physical sense. But one day, those conspicuously short skirts, that prominent Scottish accent and those annoyingly perfect red locks of ginger hair will be the death of him.
“Late as always, I see.” He opens the door to an image even more beautiful than the one he had captured in his mind. He remembered to file this picture of her as number one on his internal Karen Gillan photo album.
“I’ve got booze. And pirates. That’s enough to get me a late entrance ticket into the Smith residence, eh?” She didn’t exactly wait for an answer, because the subtle wink she gave him as she made her way over the threshold weakened his grip on the door handle and made it a breeze for her to push her way in - not that he would’ve stopped her anyway.
A couple of minutes later, they had everything set up. The begging of the first movie was starting, with the vague shape of a large ship approaching through the fog that had covered the entire screen. Barely five seconds into the movie, Karen crouched down and rested her head on Matt’s chest and he subconsciously started to twirl her red locks around his fingers, losing himself in the endless shades hiding within each lock.
“I make a brilliant pirate, don’t you think?” She started, “I might even get a part in the fifth movie.” She looked up at him, a particular glint in her eyes and a grin dancing upon her cherry lips. He couldn’t help but let a half-muttered laugh escape his lips. They both turned their heads towards the screen, both pretending to watch the movie but in reality, they were replaying those few smiling images of each other through their minds over and over again - because if there’s anything more entertaining than Johnny Depp, cursed gold and The Black Pearl, it’s each others’ smiles.
An hour later, Karen had lost all consciousness, her head pressed hard against Matt’s ribs and yet somehow he felt no pain whatsoever. He’d had forgotten there was a movie playing, and decided it was significantly more entertaining to watch the perfect rhythm in which Karen’s chest moved up and down ever-so-slightly with every gentle breath she took. Eventually, her slight movements and the mesmerizing way in which her ginger locks fell across her face whenever she twisted or turned dragged him into the land of dreams as well.
Next morning - both late as ever - they’re rushing out of Matt’s car (he was speeding, she was screaming, and they were both laughing at the childishness of the situation) practically running onto set, apologizing profusely to the hair and make-up crew as they took each others’ seats - unintentionally, of course. (They never really notice just how much they take each others’ seats on set. Arthur does though. He laughs, shakes his head and mutters “idiots” under his breath.)
Arthur turns to look at them, and of course, Karen’s wearing Matt’s famous tour-coat. He throws his head back and lets out a half-exasperated, half-amused laugh. “Really guys, the whole innocent act is getting a bit old. We’re not stupid - contrary to popular belief.” He walks out of hair and make-up, leaving them with furrowed brows and puzzled looks. They look at each other, shrug it off and turn their attention back to the make-up artists.
“Idiots.” Arthur mumbled as he closed the door to the hair and make-up trailer.