rpf: We're going down, and you know that we're doomed
title: we're going down, and you know that we're doomed (1/1)
rating: pg
words: 1139
pairing: hugh/jen. if you're at all disgusted by this idea, then don't read it. i really don't mean any disrespect to either of these fine actors. i adore them, and it's just a bit of fun.
notes: this is a birthday present for the truly fantastic bibi (
thirteenlives). hun, i hope you are having the best day ever. and also thanks to
hughsbeautiful for inspiring me to write hugh/jen rpf again.
He watches her as she moves around the set, preparing for her few minutes of fame for this episode. Hugh wonders how things could have gone so astray with the show that he could have gone from thinking the first three episodes were absolutely brilliant to having no clue where on earth they were going with these plotlines. He would have a word with the writers - if he thought that they would ever actually take into account any of the actors’ thoughts. The show had somehow lost some of its brilliance without Jennifer Morrison, in his opinion, and in fact Jesse too.
He’s never liked to whinge too much for fear of ever being one of those prima donna (or primo uomo, as it were) actors that are always so bloody irritating to work with. Nevertheless, the slight fall in standard of such a brilliant show upsets him, and he can’t help but take it somewhat personally due to his perfectionist nature.
Jen is always all smiles as she tells them all that she doesn’t mind having a smaller role in the show, as long as that was what was best for the show and what the fans wanted. She jokingly adds, “As long as my name’s still on the credits,” but Hugh can see that the smiles are often a bit strained. Too bright, too cheery to be completely believed.
While they are filming his bowling scene with Jesse, he thinks of some other equally ludicrous House and Chase reunion scenes they could have used instead. He chuckles out loud as he imagines a barbeque where House and Chase cook the lamb chops outside while sipping beers, and Cameron tosses the accompanying salad and plays with their pet kangaroo. The typical Aussie scene was, to Hugh, just as ridiculous and unsuited to this show as the tenpin bowling scene.
Jen stands behind the cameraman, amused beyond anything else, grinning at them while they are filming the various takes, making it just that little bit harder to concentrate. She technically doesn’t need to be here, but she’d laughed and told him earlier that she wouldn’t miss this scene for the world.
“Cut. Jesse, try and look more comfortable, you’re supposed to be completely at ease here. Hugh, you’re doing well. Let’s go again. 3, 2, 1…” Deran Sarafian nods towards them to signal that the cameras are rolling again.
He barely refrains from rolling his eyes at that and he could swear he heard Jen snort contemptuously at Sarafian’s instructions.
+
After the day’s filming is over, he walks back to his trailer to collect his things and go back to his apartment. It’s raining lightly outside, the bitumen wet and reflecting the amber light from the tall lamps that light up the bay of trailers.
He grabs his bomber jacket, keys and cell phone, and locks the trailer behind him. Hugh spots a figure emerging from the trailer next to the one opposite his: Jen. Her arms are wrapped around herself to keep herself warmer, and she’s sporting a bright red scarf around her neck, while her head is ducked against the rain that is slightly heavier now.
He walks over to her, and she starts when she hears his footsteps behind her.
“Hugh! God, you scared me. I know there’s security around here, but it’s late and I’m always a bit nervous walking around out here,” she breathes.
He smiles a small smile at her and holds out his arm, “Don’t worry, you’re safe now. You’ve got an almost-fifty, lanky Brit to protect you.”
She beams and slips her arm around his, “Oh, I feel completely at ease now.”
They continue on up to the gate where three burly security guards are seated on fold out chairs. They walk past and down the street a bit before he stops and looks at her.
“Where to now, mademoiselle?” he says, a slight smile playing on his lips.
She looks down at her watch. It’s just past two in the morning. She walks ahead of him a bit and then turns around, a wide grin on her face, her eyes glittering with mischief.
“Let’s go for a walk! C’mon, it’ll be fun, we can go to the bay.”
He gives her his best are you serious? look, but finds himself walking forward towards her. She grabs his hand skips off, dragging him along behind her. He marvels at how she can possibly skip on a wet road in the small heels she’s wearing.
They’re strolling along a boardwalk overlooking the glittering bay water, the cold air whipping through their hair and their hands still warmly clasped together. He wonders what the hell he’s doing.
The childlike freedom and light-heartedness of when they’d first started walking slowly ebbs away. Reality starts to press on him again and he remembers with a stab of guilt his family in another continent.
More specifically, he becomes uncomfortably aware of his wedding ring pressed in amongst their interlocked fingers.
He glances over at her and she’s gazing out at the water, her eyes wide with wonder at the beauty of the sight.
He could say the same about himself now as he looks at her.
And then he begins to feel like a sick predator of sorts. She’s so much younger than him, and that sort of thing only works for Donald Trump and Mick Jagger. Besides, this probably doesn’t mean for her what it means for him.
He tries to free his hand from her gentle grasp, and she turns her head away from the water to look at him.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he stops walking and goes over to the railing of the boardwalk overlooking the water.
He can feel her watching him closely, and god, he needs a smoke right now.
Her small heels knock on the wooden walkway as she slowly comes to stand beside him. She slips her hand up over his shoulder and caresses his cheek. He doesn’t notice that he’s closed his eyes and turned a bit to face her until her next action takes him by surprise.
She presses her lips softly to his cheek and gently nuzzles his face a bit, before moving to his ear and whispering, “It’s okay, I understand.”
He opens his eyes and she’s looking up at him earnestly, and he knows that she really does understand. This just makes him want to kiss her even more than before, but he doesn’t. Slipping his fingers into her silky blonde hair, he leans forward and rests his forehead against hers, smiling the tiniest of smiles.
Nothing more, nothing less. He’s glad in the end that they’re just here, together.
fin.
rating: pg
words: 1139
pairing: hugh/jen. if you're at all disgusted by this idea, then don't read it. i really don't mean any disrespect to either of these fine actors. i adore them, and it's just a bit of fun.
notes: this is a birthday present for the truly fantastic bibi (
thirteenlives). hun, i hope you are having the best day ever. and also thanks to
hughsbeautiful for inspiring me to write hugh/jen rpf again.
He watches her as she moves around the set, preparing for her few minutes of fame for this episode. Hugh wonders how things could have gone so astray with the show that he could have gone from thinking the first three episodes were absolutely brilliant to having no clue where on earth they were going with these plotlines. He would have a word with the writers - if he thought that they would ever actually take into account any of the actors’ thoughts. The show had somehow lost some of its brilliance without Jennifer Morrison, in his opinion, and in fact Jesse too.
He’s never liked to whinge too much for fear of ever being one of those prima donna (or primo uomo, as it were) actors that are always so bloody irritating to work with. Nevertheless, the slight fall in standard of such a brilliant show upsets him, and he can’t help but take it somewhat personally due to his perfectionist nature.
Jen is always all smiles as she tells them all that she doesn’t mind having a smaller role in the show, as long as that was what was best for the show and what the fans wanted. She jokingly adds, “As long as my name’s still on the credits,” but Hugh can see that the smiles are often a bit strained. Too bright, too cheery to be completely believed.
While they are filming his bowling scene with Jesse, he thinks of some other equally ludicrous House and Chase reunion scenes they could have used instead. He chuckles out loud as he imagines a barbeque where House and Chase cook the lamb chops outside while sipping beers, and Cameron tosses the accompanying salad and plays with their pet kangaroo. The typical Aussie scene was, to Hugh, just as ridiculous and unsuited to this show as the tenpin bowling scene.
Jen stands behind the cameraman, amused beyond anything else, grinning at them while they are filming the various takes, making it just that little bit harder to concentrate. She technically doesn’t need to be here, but she’d laughed and told him earlier that she wouldn’t miss this scene for the world.
“Cut. Jesse, try and look more comfortable, you’re supposed to be completely at ease here. Hugh, you’re doing well. Let’s go again. 3, 2, 1…” Deran Sarafian nods towards them to signal that the cameras are rolling again.
He barely refrains from rolling his eyes at that and he could swear he heard Jen snort contemptuously at Sarafian’s instructions.
+
After the day’s filming is over, he walks back to his trailer to collect his things and go back to his apartment. It’s raining lightly outside, the bitumen wet and reflecting the amber light from the tall lamps that light up the bay of trailers.
He grabs his bomber jacket, keys and cell phone, and locks the trailer behind him. Hugh spots a figure emerging from the trailer next to the one opposite his: Jen. Her arms are wrapped around herself to keep herself warmer, and she’s sporting a bright red scarf around her neck, while her head is ducked against the rain that is slightly heavier now.
He walks over to her, and she starts when she hears his footsteps behind her.
“Hugh! God, you scared me. I know there’s security around here, but it’s late and I’m always a bit nervous walking around out here,” she breathes.
He smiles a small smile at her and holds out his arm, “Don’t worry, you’re safe now. You’ve got an almost-fifty, lanky Brit to protect you.”
She beams and slips her arm around his, “Oh, I feel completely at ease now.”
They continue on up to the gate where three burly security guards are seated on fold out chairs. They walk past and down the street a bit before he stops and looks at her.
“Where to now, mademoiselle?” he says, a slight smile playing on his lips.
She looks down at her watch. It’s just past two in the morning. She walks ahead of him a bit and then turns around, a wide grin on her face, her eyes glittering with mischief.
“Let’s go for a walk! C’mon, it’ll be fun, we can go to the bay.”
He gives her his best are you serious? look, but finds himself walking forward towards her. She grabs his hand skips off, dragging him along behind her. He marvels at how she can possibly skip on a wet road in the small heels she’s wearing.
They’re strolling along a boardwalk overlooking the glittering bay water, the cold air whipping through their hair and their hands still warmly clasped together. He wonders what the hell he’s doing.
The childlike freedom and light-heartedness of when they’d first started walking slowly ebbs away. Reality starts to press on him again and he remembers with a stab of guilt his family in another continent.
More specifically, he becomes uncomfortably aware of his wedding ring pressed in amongst their interlocked fingers.
He glances over at her and she’s gazing out at the water, her eyes wide with wonder at the beauty of the sight.
He could say the same about himself now as he looks at her.
And then he begins to feel like a sick predator of sorts. She’s so much younger than him, and that sort of thing only works for Donald Trump and Mick Jagger. Besides, this probably doesn’t mean for her what it means for him.
He tries to free his hand from her gentle grasp, and she turns her head away from the water to look at him.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he stops walking and goes over to the railing of the boardwalk overlooking the water.
He can feel her watching him closely, and god, he needs a smoke right now.
Her small heels knock on the wooden walkway as she slowly comes to stand beside him. She slips her hand up over his shoulder and caresses his cheek. He doesn’t notice that he’s closed his eyes and turned a bit to face her until her next action takes him by surprise.
She presses her lips softly to his cheek and gently nuzzles his face a bit, before moving to his ear and whispering, “It’s okay, I understand.”
He opens his eyes and she’s looking up at him earnestly, and he knows that she really does understand. This just makes him want to kiss her even more than before, but he doesn’t. Slipping his fingers into her silky blonde hair, he leans forward and rests his forehead against hers, smiling the tiniest of smiles.
Nothing more, nothing less. He’s glad in the end that they’re just here, together.
fin.