Real Person // Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock // International House of Pancakes
Title: International House of Pancakes
Fandom: Real Person
Characters: Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock
Prompt: #65; Mistake.
Word Count: 1,539
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: An unlikely setting.
Author's Notes: I think it works out better in my head. But that's okay. Yeah, I don't know them. This is just how I think it should be.
“How long?”
“Nine days, four hours.” Sandra unfolds the empty sugar packet in her hands. She refolds and unfolds again. The third time, it tears. Tossing it on the table she looks up at Keanu. He’s staring at his plate. One of the original three pancakes remains, soaked in syrup, ripped by the fork and slathered with butter. It is no longer appetizing. He sinks lower in the booth.
“You folks doing all right over here?” they both jump at the waitress’ appearance. She gestures to Keanu’s empty cup with her pot. “Want a refill on the coffee?”
“No thank you,” he murmurs. She glances at Sandra, who shakes her head.
“We’re fine.” her hand tremors as she picks up her orange juice and sips it.
“If you need anything, just let me know.”
“We will. Thank you.” she waits until the waitress, Carol, heads off for another table before looking back across the way. Keanu fingers the sticky handle of his fork. He unnecessarily concentrates hard on cleaning it.
“So you’ll just go in there and …”
“Pee on the stick. Yes.”
“And then we’ll know.” he lifts himself up a little.
“With some certainty. God, I feel like we should be wearing sunglasses and praying Mrs. Weatherbee from church doesn’t see us. IHOP isn’t exactly the place one considers to conduct this in.” Sandra stops joking when Keanu clears his throat. “Do you want to go back to my place?”
“No. It’s fine here.”
“Give me five minutes.” she slides out of the booth.
Keanu watches her go, purse casually slung over her shoulder, but doesn’t glance at his watch nor cell phone as he turns back around to the table. He doesn’t want to time it. With some internal instinct he knows what the result will be. Counting down to the end of his life as he knows it doesn’t seem right.
He forces himself a few more bites of the whole wheat pancake, which came topped with banana slices and now drowns in maple syrup. The meal he once loved is marked with this disaster. If she had told him before they ordered, Keanu would have chosen something he didn’t enjoy as much. Eggs over easy with a side of white toast, or a skillet with hash browns.
Sandra leaned across the table, not touching her ham and cheese omelet. Keanu continued to spear banana with pancake, swirling the combination in syrup before eating it. When he casually looked up, he nearly choked. Her face was serious, worried, and considerably pale.
“What is it?”
“We need to talk.”
Keanu presses the napkin against his mouth and silently gags out the pancakes. He can smell the syrup on his fingers and he dry heaves, dropping the napkin and the mess it contains on his plate. Coughing as quietly as he can, his eyes tear and he grabs his water, condensation on the glass wetting his fingers as he chugs the drink. When he sets down the glass he notices Carol standing over him.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
“Can I take that from you?” she reluctantly gestures to his plate.
“Go ahead.” he leans back. His stomach continues to churn. This can’t be happening. In the normal world this is the perfect time for this sort of event to occur, but for them. For them it is like being a teenager and having it happen. You aren’t prepared, you aren’t capable, you have so much more planned. He has only begun to factor in how the media will react. They pushed their friendship so hard he knows the incident can only cause suspicion, frenzy, and accusations.
“You’ll be fine,” Carol says softly as she leans over to clear their plates. “It’ll work out.”
It irks him that she can read the situation so easily, but she leaves before he can respond. He watches her walk to the kitchen. Based on her youthful face, dead end job, tired expression, and K-Mart attire, he guesses she is all too familiar with their circumstance. A teenage mother turned full-time waitress who watches others deal with the same mistake, delivering fresh coffee alongside her pity and understanding.
“Hey.” his eyes snap away. Sandra is setting down her purse, grabbing her coat, flinging her scarf around her neck. Her eyes are bloodshot. She won’t look at him.
“Hey.” he sits up. “Well?” a little too expectantly, perhaps.
Sandra pauses. She pulls in her lips, her right leg bounces, and she casts her eyes downwards as her fingers play with the fringe on the scarf. Keanu holds his breath. It’s happening. She shakes her head.
“No.” she looks up, hands stilled, eyes steady, and he’s taken aback by the hurt he sees. “No, I’m not.” a beat passes before she snatches her purse and heads for the door.
“Sandy!” stammering out of the booth, Keanu takes after her. He leaves behind his coat, his wallet, the bill. None of that matters. Carol stops him at the cash register, poking a finger into his chest. The look he gives her mixes frustration with rage, but the one she returns crushes it. She’s a force to be reckon with when it comes to the money.
“Excuse me, you need to pay-”
“Two minutes,” he pleads. She recognizes the look in his eyes for her face softens; she nods.
“You better come back,” she says sternly stepping aside. Keanu’s already halfway to the door.
“Sandra!” he jumps off the curb and runs across the way, not bothering to look for cars. “Sandy, wait!”
He grabs her arm and twirls her to face him. The keys fall from her hand but Keanu never hears them hit the pavement. The moment seems timed in slow motion yet he still doesn’t anticipate Sandra slapping him. There’s a moment of black and shock, followed by the pain in his cheek, then a second to realize what she did. Keanu immediately reacts; clutching her other wrist despite her attempts to fight him off.
“Sandra! Sandra!” he yells, attempting to still her restless body, but she continues to twist away, her face screwed up with pain as tears continually stream down her cheeks.
“Leave me alone!” she cries, stomping her foot against the blacktop. Yet she is weakening from the excessive crying, and her knees start to give out. Pressing her forehead against the hand he holds in his grasp, Sandra crumples. Keanu seizes her weak frame just before she hits the pavement and hugs it against him. She sinks against his chest, still crying, hiding herself from the world. He sets his cheek against her hair hoping not to cry himself. Her breathing is still scarce; her tears wet his shirt.
“I wanted him too,” he admits softly. “I wanted this too.” And between the worry if she was pregnant and the anxiety over media reaction, he hadn’t consciously given thought to the baby. But seeing Sandra’s disappointment made him realize … he wanted it to happen. It wasn’t just that he would be a father and have a child, but that it’d be both his and Sandra’s, a literal product of their love. His melancholy eyes, her infectious laugh, their dark hair all combined into a treasured little human being. The thought that the two of them were so close at something so preciously their own causes him to hold her tighter.
“I have to go,” she says quite determinedly, drawing away from him. Her hands brush away tears and drag through her unmanageable hair. They continue to shake.
“Wait, let’s talk about this.” he doesn’t admit that he is barely holding on now that he grasped the situation, and being alone only means breaking down. “Come home with me.” the vision of an empty hotel room makes things worse.
“No, I …” Sandra unknowingly settles a hand on her stomach. Keanu looks away. “I need to be alone right now.” she steps back towards the driver’s door; her sneaker crunches over her keys and she quickly stoops to pick them up. While she’s down Keanu steps in closer, and after straightening Sandra closes her eyes in pain; his face is only a reminder of what she isn’t.
“Sandy please.” Can she not hear the break in his voice? See the pain on his face that this brings to him? “This happened to both of us.” he cups her face but she brushes him away.
“I can’t be around you right now.” her voice heightens a pitch, almost near a panic. “Please.” she opens her eyes; the tears are back.
“All right; all right.” it hurts more when she’s upset on his account. he watches her get in the car without saying good-bye. She stays still for a moment, crying over the steering wheel, and it takes every restrain he can harness not to open the door and take her in his arms once more. We should be dealing with this together, he thinks bitterly as she gains control of her emotions enough to pull out of the space. He watches her speed out of the parking lot before heading back to the restaurant. This is a mistake. If we need anything right now, it’s each other.
Fandom: Real Person
Characters: Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock
Prompt: #65; Mistake.
Word Count: 1,539
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: An unlikely setting.
Author's Notes: I think it works out better in my head. But that's okay. Yeah, I don't know them. This is just how I think it should be.
“How long?”
“Nine days, four hours.” Sandra unfolds the empty sugar packet in her hands. She refolds and unfolds again. The third time, it tears. Tossing it on the table she looks up at Keanu. He’s staring at his plate. One of the original three pancakes remains, soaked in syrup, ripped by the fork and slathered with butter. It is no longer appetizing. He sinks lower in the booth.
“You folks doing all right over here?” they both jump at the waitress’ appearance. She gestures to Keanu’s empty cup with her pot. “Want a refill on the coffee?”
“No thank you,” he murmurs. She glances at Sandra, who shakes her head.
“We’re fine.” her hand tremors as she picks up her orange juice and sips it.
“If you need anything, just let me know.”
“We will. Thank you.” she waits until the waitress, Carol, heads off for another table before looking back across the way. Keanu fingers the sticky handle of his fork. He unnecessarily concentrates hard on cleaning it.
“So you’ll just go in there and …”
“Pee on the stick. Yes.”
“And then we’ll know.” he lifts himself up a little.
“With some certainty. God, I feel like we should be wearing sunglasses and praying Mrs. Weatherbee from church doesn’t see us. IHOP isn’t exactly the place one considers to conduct this in.” Sandra stops joking when Keanu clears his throat. “Do you want to go back to my place?”
“No. It’s fine here.”
“Give me five minutes.” she slides out of the booth.
Keanu watches her go, purse casually slung over her shoulder, but doesn’t glance at his watch nor cell phone as he turns back around to the table. He doesn’t want to time it. With some internal instinct he knows what the result will be. Counting down to the end of his life as he knows it doesn’t seem right.
He forces himself a few more bites of the whole wheat pancake, which came topped with banana slices and now drowns in maple syrup. The meal he once loved is marked with this disaster. If she had told him before they ordered, Keanu would have chosen something he didn’t enjoy as much. Eggs over easy with a side of white toast, or a skillet with hash browns.
Sandra leaned across the table, not touching her ham and cheese omelet. Keanu continued to spear banana with pancake, swirling the combination in syrup before eating it. When he casually looked up, he nearly choked. Her face was serious, worried, and considerably pale.
“What is it?”
“We need to talk.”
Keanu presses the napkin against his mouth and silently gags out the pancakes. He can smell the syrup on his fingers and he dry heaves, dropping the napkin and the mess it contains on his plate. Coughing as quietly as he can, his eyes tear and he grabs his water, condensation on the glass wetting his fingers as he chugs the drink. When he sets down the glass he notices Carol standing over him.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
“Can I take that from you?” she reluctantly gestures to his plate.
“Go ahead.” he leans back. His stomach continues to churn. This can’t be happening. In the normal world this is the perfect time for this sort of event to occur, but for them. For them it is like being a teenager and having it happen. You aren’t prepared, you aren’t capable, you have so much more planned. He has only begun to factor in how the media will react. They pushed their friendship so hard he knows the incident can only cause suspicion, frenzy, and accusations.
“You’ll be fine,” Carol says softly as she leans over to clear their plates. “It’ll work out.”
It irks him that she can read the situation so easily, but she leaves before he can respond. He watches her walk to the kitchen. Based on her youthful face, dead end job, tired expression, and K-Mart attire, he guesses she is all too familiar with their circumstance. A teenage mother turned full-time waitress who watches others deal with the same mistake, delivering fresh coffee alongside her pity and understanding.
“Hey.” his eyes snap away. Sandra is setting down her purse, grabbing her coat, flinging her scarf around her neck. Her eyes are bloodshot. She won’t look at him.
“Hey.” he sits up. “Well?” a little too expectantly, perhaps.
Sandra pauses. She pulls in her lips, her right leg bounces, and she casts her eyes downwards as her fingers play with the fringe on the scarf. Keanu holds his breath. It’s happening. She shakes her head.
“No.” she looks up, hands stilled, eyes steady, and he’s taken aback by the hurt he sees. “No, I’m not.” a beat passes before she snatches her purse and heads for the door.
“Sandy!” stammering out of the booth, Keanu takes after her. He leaves behind his coat, his wallet, the bill. None of that matters. Carol stops him at the cash register, poking a finger into his chest. The look he gives her mixes frustration with rage, but the one she returns crushes it. She’s a force to be reckon with when it comes to the money.
“Excuse me, you need to pay-”
“Two minutes,” he pleads. She recognizes the look in his eyes for her face softens; she nods.
“You better come back,” she says sternly stepping aside. Keanu’s already halfway to the door.
“Sandra!” he jumps off the curb and runs across the way, not bothering to look for cars. “Sandy, wait!”
He grabs her arm and twirls her to face him. The keys fall from her hand but Keanu never hears them hit the pavement. The moment seems timed in slow motion yet he still doesn’t anticipate Sandra slapping him. There’s a moment of black and shock, followed by the pain in his cheek, then a second to realize what she did. Keanu immediately reacts; clutching her other wrist despite her attempts to fight him off.
“Sandra! Sandra!” he yells, attempting to still her restless body, but she continues to twist away, her face screwed up with pain as tears continually stream down her cheeks.
“Leave me alone!” she cries, stomping her foot against the blacktop. Yet she is weakening from the excessive crying, and her knees start to give out. Pressing her forehead against the hand he holds in his grasp, Sandra crumples. Keanu seizes her weak frame just before she hits the pavement and hugs it against him. She sinks against his chest, still crying, hiding herself from the world. He sets his cheek against her hair hoping not to cry himself. Her breathing is still scarce; her tears wet his shirt.
“I wanted him too,” he admits softly. “I wanted this too.” And between the worry if she was pregnant and the anxiety over media reaction, he hadn’t consciously given thought to the baby. But seeing Sandra’s disappointment made him realize … he wanted it to happen. It wasn’t just that he would be a father and have a child, but that it’d be both his and Sandra’s, a literal product of their love. His melancholy eyes, her infectious laugh, their dark hair all combined into a treasured little human being. The thought that the two of them were so close at something so preciously their own causes him to hold her tighter.
“I have to go,” she says quite determinedly, drawing away from him. Her hands brush away tears and drag through her unmanageable hair. They continue to shake.
“Wait, let’s talk about this.” he doesn’t admit that he is barely holding on now that he grasped the situation, and being alone only means breaking down. “Come home with me.” the vision of an empty hotel room makes things worse.
“No, I …” Sandra unknowingly settles a hand on her stomach. Keanu looks away. “I need to be alone right now.” she steps back towards the driver’s door; her sneaker crunches over her keys and she quickly stoops to pick them up. While she’s down Keanu steps in closer, and after straightening Sandra closes her eyes in pain; his face is only a reminder of what she isn’t.
“Sandy please.” Can she not hear the break in his voice? See the pain on his face that this brings to him? “This happened to both of us.” he cups her face but she brushes him away.
“I can’t be around you right now.” her voice heightens a pitch, almost near a panic. “Please.” she opens her eyes; the tears are back.
“All right; all right.” it hurts more when she’s upset on his account. he watches her get in the car without saying good-bye. She stays still for a moment, crying over the steering wheel, and it takes every restrain he can harness not to open the door and take her in his arms once more. We should be dealing with this together, he thinks bitterly as she gains control of her emotions enough to pull out of the space. He watches her speed out of the parking lot before heading back to the restaurant. This is a mistake. If we need anything right now, it’s each other.