Real Person // Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock // Then Something Unexpected Comes Along
Title: Then Something Unexpected Comes Along
Fandom: Real Person
Characters: Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock
Prompt: #55; Rescue.
Word Count: 1,651
Rating: PG.
Summary: Two Weeks Notice NYC premiere
Author's Notes: Sandra, thy look was scary. See HERE. Keanu, stop gazing. See HERE. I don't know them. This is just how I think it should be.
I am not a H/S shipper in any form. I love K/S. Depending on the picture or footage you offer, I am at times for K/C.
“I probably never had so much fun acting as I did on this movie. And it’s all thanks to her.” Hugh squeezes Sandra’s hip tighter. She wonders why three glasses of champagne and a British accent can’t make that sentence more bearable.
“Yes. It was a lot of fun,” she agrees for the hundredth time that night. The first time, it was sweet. The second time, flattering. By now, it’s lost all meaning. Unlike her motto for the evening, ‘One more, please.’ She dumps her empty glass on a passing tray and grabs another. Hugh chuckles.
“You guys have an amazing chemistry,” the producer they’re chatting with comments. “I’m impressed with how well it showed in the film. It’s gonna be a hit.”
“Well we hope so,” Sandra responds looking out into the crowd. “Can you believe how cold it is outside? I mean it‘s New York but come on.”
“It is winter.” Hugh replies in a tone too close to George Wade for Sandra’s liking. She sips her drink and reproves herself for wearing such an uncomfortable dress. It is just another aspect of tonight which turned into hell. “What do you say we get out of here?”
Sandra doesn’t want to leave, and especially not with Hugh. Rumors have already circulated about their personal relationship. Leaving together tonight would add fuel to an undesired fire. She shakes her head. “It’s a party for our film. Let’s stay a little longer.”
“If you’re staying, there’s a couple studio execs I’d like you two to meet.” the producer cuts in. Sandra blinks at him. “They’re already talking you two, another movie!” Her stomach twists. Hugh grins.
“Excellent. Shall we?” he releases her waist to take up her elbow. She looks up at him hoping he can tell by her expression how she feels about this impromptu meeting. His face reflects that she needs to say yes and follow.
“Well, I’m thinking maybe we should go-” her voice stops.
“Hi. What‘s going on?” Keanu’s interruption is so soft one must lip read to realize he’s asking a question. He stands absent of his niece but in the same attire. The ribbed ski cap cuts just above his ear and allows only a few wisps of hair to escape; he has the makings of a five o’clock shadow scratching his face. Compared to the suited men around him, Keanu’s outfit fits the scene of a park in autumn with black pants, dark corduroy jacket, and a cozy, double wrapped gray scarf.
“We were just about to go meet some people. Thanks for coming though; we’ll catch up with you later. Sandra?” Hugh tugs her elbow.
“Can you handle them by yourself?” she asks pulling from his hand. “What am I saying; of course you can. I’m going to catch up with Keanu. Don’t agree to Two Weeks Notice: Cruise Control, okay? I’ve been there, it will tank.” Keanu smiles; she hasn’t taken her eyes off him. Hugh sighs.
“Sandy. Please. The execs want the whole package, not just half.”
“It’s actually fine if it’s just you, Hugh,” the producer contends, eager to get one of the pair to come with. “They can talk with Sandra later.”
“Yeah,” Sandra assents, “They can talk with me later.” she turns back, leans in and pats his arm. “You’ll do fine.”
“Okay,” he relents. He kisses her cheek and smiles at her affectionately. “I’ll come for you afterwards.”
“We’ll be anxiously awaiting your return.” Keanu replies sarcastically but no one hears him. “Come on.” he bounces up and down on his toes. “It’s hot. Let’s go outside.”
Sandra follows him out onto the terrace. It is quieter out here, the music and conversation muffled though the thump of the bass still beats under their feet. The length of their separation introduces an awkward pause.
“I enjoyed the movie.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Their relationship was contrived, but you were good. The bobcat pretzel was definite improv.” he imitates Lucy’s drunken stance. Sandra laughs.
“No, that was in the script. I made up the move myself, but it was originally in the script. Contrived how?”
“She was totally annoyed with him. At what point does annoyance suddenly equate love?”
“Lucy disliked things about George, yes, but it went both ways. The love was despite that.”
“Nah. Didn’t show that way.” he taps his outer thigh and rolls his neck. Sandra shakes her head.
“But on the whole, it was good?”
“Sure. Box office should be good. That’s what matters, right?” To her, occasionally. With him, never. Tanked movies disappoint him but never break his resolve.
“Where’s Isabelle?”
“I took her home. I wasn’t about to expose an eleven-year old to all this.” he extracts a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it over. Sandra regards it carefully.
“Do I need to blow my nose?” she feels the extremity for protruding mucus.
“No. I just thought it was time to take off all that show make-up. You look prettier natural.” he holds it up. She takes it and wipes at her cheeks. “Your lips too - they’re fuchsia.”
“Hugh thought I looked good,” she says against the soft cotton. “I thought I looked good.”
“If you were performing on a stage.” he retrieves the pink smattered hankie while shaking his head. “And your dress … did you check the weather report?”
The pink on his hankie reappears in her cheeks. “At least I followed the dress code for a premiere.”
“I wear what I want. And it was cold. Freezing knocks out style for some of us.”
Sandra turns to stare out into the garden, hugging her arms around her goose bumped arms. The skyscape of New York City stands before them, silent, majestic, imposing, a gap where the towers once stood. Over a year since the tragedy but Sandra was still waiting. Everyone had scrambled to make the most of life after the high death toll reestablished man’s mortality. With a lifestyle as lavish as hers, it was hard to believe she wasn’t living a fulfilling life. But she knew she wasn’t. She didn’t know what exactly would make that happen. Winning an Oscar? Her face on the cover of People? A husband? And so she waits for an answer.
The silk lining of Keanu’s coat whispers warmth over her shivering body. He gently kneads his hands into her shoulders. She holds the opening together as a barrier against the night wind; her thumbs rub against the smooth, shiny buttons.
“How’ve you been?” his voice is sensitive; concerned.
She thinks of the gap in the skyscape and in her life. “Not so good.” she spins around, causing his hands to fall. He makes up for the loss of contact by edging in. “I miss you.” the words slip.
“It’s been awhile.” such a controlled tone that reveals nothing. His eyes are concrete walls guarding the inside workings. Sandra drops the brief gaze. Moving on.
“Listen, I got this movie script, and …” she stops as he walks away. “What?”
“We’re doing back to back Matrix next year.” he paces back, each word timed to a step. “Besides, I didn’t come here to talk about careers.” he thumbs her bare cheek; goosebumps tingle her legs but not from the icy finger pad. “You and Hugh?”
She laughs and pulls away, buttoning the coat to stall. “That, we can talk about?”
“Sure. It’s an obvious question.”
“Ah, no. No …” she leans back; her palms tighten on the iron railing. “… he might, but I, that’d just be too much. Gotta separate personal life and work.”
“Ryan Gosling.”
“Carrie-Anne Moss.”
“Touché.”
“No.” Sandra glances up from her shoes, eyes gleaming at the new gossip. “Trinity and Neo in real-life?” she pokes him. “You’re blushing! It is true.”
“No! Well, yeah, maybe I am … but you see, it’s complicated. Nothing will ever come of it, probably.” she nods understandingly.
“Like us? Once I found out you were no Jack Traven I ran out of there.” they share a harmonious laugh.
“Sandy? They want photos.” Hugh steps onto the courtyard and the comfortable two becomes an unsettled three. Keanu’s jacket tightens around Sandra much like a corset and she quickly removes it. Neither one misses this three second feat.
“I’ll go. You have a job to do.” he holds out a hand for his coat. She clutches it.
“No, wait. It won’t take that long. Stay.”
“It was good to see you again. Hugh.” he says his name but his eyes remain on Sandra. He shifts, a moment where he debates whether kissing her cheek would be appropriate or merely copycatting. In one swift motion he releases his possession from her grasp and affectionately tugs a curl. He exits the terrace. Sandra follows.
“Sandra! The photographers!”
“Keanu, please. I haven’t see you in years.” she is right behind him, nearly blindsided as he tugs on the corduroy. It smells of lavender body lotion, perspiration, and hair spray. Her heels click rapidly as they hurry to keep up with his lumbering brown boots. “When am I going to see you again? Are you staying in the city?”
He doesn’t look back at her, speaking to the crowd he shuffles through. She strains to catch his answer. “Yeah … no I’m not.” he ducks to the side, finding refuge against the lobby door. On the other side are throngs of people waiting out of the cold for taxis and limos. “Come to one of the Matrix premieres. They’ll be here soon enough.”
“It’s a date,” she pronounces. Several people glance over momentarily. He puts a finger to her lips, resisting the temptation to trace the soft bloom.
“See you when I see you.”
He escapes into the crowd, but doesn’t disappear into it. She follows his light with her eyes until he’s out the door, a lone nova in the vast darkness of the galaxy.
Fandom: Real Person
Characters: Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock
Prompt: #55; Rescue.
Word Count: 1,651
Rating: PG.
Summary: Two Weeks Notice NYC premiere
Author's Notes: Sandra, thy look was scary. See HERE. Keanu, stop gazing. See HERE. I don't know them. This is just how I think it should be.
I am not a H/S shipper in any form. I love K/S. Depending on the picture or footage you offer, I am at times for K/C.
“I probably never had so much fun acting as I did on this movie. And it’s all thanks to her.” Hugh squeezes Sandra’s hip tighter. She wonders why three glasses of champagne and a British accent can’t make that sentence more bearable.
“Yes. It was a lot of fun,” she agrees for the hundredth time that night. The first time, it was sweet. The second time, flattering. By now, it’s lost all meaning. Unlike her motto for the evening, ‘One more, please.’ She dumps her empty glass on a passing tray and grabs another. Hugh chuckles.
“You guys have an amazing chemistry,” the producer they’re chatting with comments. “I’m impressed with how well it showed in the film. It’s gonna be a hit.”
“Well we hope so,” Sandra responds looking out into the crowd. “Can you believe how cold it is outside? I mean it‘s New York but come on.”
“It is winter.” Hugh replies in a tone too close to George Wade for Sandra’s liking. She sips her drink and reproves herself for wearing such an uncomfortable dress. It is just another aspect of tonight which turned into hell. “What do you say we get out of here?”
Sandra doesn’t want to leave, and especially not with Hugh. Rumors have already circulated about their personal relationship. Leaving together tonight would add fuel to an undesired fire. She shakes her head. “It’s a party for our film. Let’s stay a little longer.”
“If you’re staying, there’s a couple studio execs I’d like you two to meet.” the producer cuts in. Sandra blinks at him. “They’re already talking you two, another movie!” Her stomach twists. Hugh grins.
“Excellent. Shall we?” he releases her waist to take up her elbow. She looks up at him hoping he can tell by her expression how she feels about this impromptu meeting. His face reflects that she needs to say yes and follow.
“Well, I’m thinking maybe we should go-” her voice stops.
“Hi. What‘s going on?” Keanu’s interruption is so soft one must lip read to realize he’s asking a question. He stands absent of his niece but in the same attire. The ribbed ski cap cuts just above his ear and allows only a few wisps of hair to escape; he has the makings of a five o’clock shadow scratching his face. Compared to the suited men around him, Keanu’s outfit fits the scene of a park in autumn with black pants, dark corduroy jacket, and a cozy, double wrapped gray scarf.
“We were just about to go meet some people. Thanks for coming though; we’ll catch up with you later. Sandra?” Hugh tugs her elbow.
“Can you handle them by yourself?” she asks pulling from his hand. “What am I saying; of course you can. I’m going to catch up with Keanu. Don’t agree to Two Weeks Notice: Cruise Control, okay? I’ve been there, it will tank.” Keanu smiles; she hasn’t taken her eyes off him. Hugh sighs.
“Sandy. Please. The execs want the whole package, not just half.”
“It’s actually fine if it’s just you, Hugh,” the producer contends, eager to get one of the pair to come with. “They can talk with Sandra later.”
“Yeah,” Sandra assents, “They can talk with me later.” she turns back, leans in and pats his arm. “You’ll do fine.”
“Okay,” he relents. He kisses her cheek and smiles at her affectionately. “I’ll come for you afterwards.”
“We’ll be anxiously awaiting your return.” Keanu replies sarcastically but no one hears him. “Come on.” he bounces up and down on his toes. “It’s hot. Let’s go outside.”
Sandra follows him out onto the terrace. It is quieter out here, the music and conversation muffled though the thump of the bass still beats under their feet. The length of their separation introduces an awkward pause.
“I enjoyed the movie.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Their relationship was contrived, but you were good. The bobcat pretzel was definite improv.” he imitates Lucy’s drunken stance. Sandra laughs.
“No, that was in the script. I made up the move myself, but it was originally in the script. Contrived how?”
“She was totally annoyed with him. At what point does annoyance suddenly equate love?”
“Lucy disliked things about George, yes, but it went both ways. The love was despite that.”
“Nah. Didn’t show that way.” he taps his outer thigh and rolls his neck. Sandra shakes her head.
“But on the whole, it was good?”
“Sure. Box office should be good. That’s what matters, right?” To her, occasionally. With him, never. Tanked movies disappoint him but never break his resolve.
“Where’s Isabelle?”
“I took her home. I wasn’t about to expose an eleven-year old to all this.” he extracts a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it over. Sandra regards it carefully.
“Do I need to blow my nose?” she feels the extremity for protruding mucus.
“No. I just thought it was time to take off all that show make-up. You look prettier natural.” he holds it up. She takes it and wipes at her cheeks. “Your lips too - they’re fuchsia.”
“Hugh thought I looked good,” she says against the soft cotton. “I thought I looked good.”
“If you were performing on a stage.” he retrieves the pink smattered hankie while shaking his head. “And your dress … did you check the weather report?”
The pink on his hankie reappears in her cheeks. “At least I followed the dress code for a premiere.”
“I wear what I want. And it was cold. Freezing knocks out style for some of us.”
Sandra turns to stare out into the garden, hugging her arms around her goose bumped arms. The skyscape of New York City stands before them, silent, majestic, imposing, a gap where the towers once stood. Over a year since the tragedy but Sandra was still waiting. Everyone had scrambled to make the most of life after the high death toll reestablished man’s mortality. With a lifestyle as lavish as hers, it was hard to believe she wasn’t living a fulfilling life. But she knew she wasn’t. She didn’t know what exactly would make that happen. Winning an Oscar? Her face on the cover of People? A husband? And so she waits for an answer.
The silk lining of Keanu’s coat whispers warmth over her shivering body. He gently kneads his hands into her shoulders. She holds the opening together as a barrier against the night wind; her thumbs rub against the smooth, shiny buttons.
“How’ve you been?” his voice is sensitive; concerned.
She thinks of the gap in the skyscape and in her life. “Not so good.” she spins around, causing his hands to fall. He makes up for the loss of contact by edging in. “I miss you.” the words slip.
“It’s been awhile.” such a controlled tone that reveals nothing. His eyes are concrete walls guarding the inside workings. Sandra drops the brief gaze. Moving on.
“Listen, I got this movie script, and …” she stops as he walks away. “What?”
“We’re doing back to back Matrix next year.” he paces back, each word timed to a step. “Besides, I didn’t come here to talk about careers.” he thumbs her bare cheek; goosebumps tingle her legs but not from the icy finger pad. “You and Hugh?”
She laughs and pulls away, buttoning the coat to stall. “That, we can talk about?”
“Sure. It’s an obvious question.”
“Ah, no. No …” she leans back; her palms tighten on the iron railing. “… he might, but I, that’d just be too much. Gotta separate personal life and work.”
“Ryan Gosling.”
“Carrie-Anne Moss.”
“Touché.”
“No.” Sandra glances up from her shoes, eyes gleaming at the new gossip. “Trinity and Neo in real-life?” she pokes him. “You’re blushing! It is true.”
“No! Well, yeah, maybe I am … but you see, it’s complicated. Nothing will ever come of it, probably.” she nods understandingly.
“Like us? Once I found out you were no Jack Traven I ran out of there.” they share a harmonious laugh.
“Sandy? They want photos.” Hugh steps onto the courtyard and the comfortable two becomes an unsettled three. Keanu’s jacket tightens around Sandra much like a corset and she quickly removes it. Neither one misses this three second feat.
“I’ll go. You have a job to do.” he holds out a hand for his coat. She clutches it.
“No, wait. It won’t take that long. Stay.”
“It was good to see you again. Hugh.” he says his name but his eyes remain on Sandra. He shifts, a moment where he debates whether kissing her cheek would be appropriate or merely copycatting. In one swift motion he releases his possession from her grasp and affectionately tugs a curl. He exits the terrace. Sandra follows.
“Sandra! The photographers!”
“Keanu, please. I haven’t see you in years.” she is right behind him, nearly blindsided as he tugs on the corduroy. It smells of lavender body lotion, perspiration, and hair spray. Her heels click rapidly as they hurry to keep up with his lumbering brown boots. “When am I going to see you again? Are you staying in the city?”
He doesn’t look back at her, speaking to the crowd he shuffles through. She strains to catch his answer. “Yeah … no I’m not.” he ducks to the side, finding refuge against the lobby door. On the other side are throngs of people waiting out of the cold for taxis and limos. “Come to one of the Matrix premieres. They’ll be here soon enough.”
“It’s a date,” she pronounces. Several people glance over momentarily. He puts a finger to her lips, resisting the temptation to trace the soft bloom.
“See you when I see you.”
He escapes into the crowd, but doesn’t disappear into it. She follows his light with her eyes until he’s out the door, a lone nova in the vast darkness of the galaxy.