FIC: Different for Girls 1 of 7 (Kat/Elliott) [COMPLETE]
Author: Clio
Title: Different for Girls Chapter 1 of 7: But Not For Me
Pairing: American Idol: Katharine McPhee/Elliott Yamin
Summary: Kat's recent heartbreak has left her a changed woman-and now her old friend Elliott is seeing her in a different light.
Chapter Rating: PG
Chapter Length: 2400 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: Thank you, thank you, thank you lillijulianne. While this story is a sequel of sorts to her sequence of stories about Blake, Chris and Kat, which can be found at stepintomyocean, there's probably enough information here to read this on its own. All you need know is that Kat had been engaged to another man at the time she was fooling around with Blake and Chris.
1: But Not For Me | 2: I've Got a Crush on You | 3: Nice Work If You Can Get It | 4: You've Got What Gets Me | 5: They Can't Take That Away From Me | 6: How Long Has This Been Going On? | 7: Aren't You Kind of Glad We Did?
Chapter One: But Not For Me
In the end, of course, she couldn't go through with it, and broke it off. He was a good man, but she wasn't a particularly good girl, nor, she realized, did she really want to be, at least in that way. She told him that during their "hiatus" she had fallen in love with another man, and while that man hadn't fallen in love with her, it indicated that she probably wasn't in love with the man she'd said she'd marry, and that was enough for him, really for everyone.
The strange thing was that after, her mother said, "I'll tell you right now, Katharine, I liked him, but I was worried."
Her girlfriends surrounded her like worker bees, each in her own way making sure Kat didn't get lost, and it wasn't so much what they did as that they were doing it, the "hive mind of love" Tina called it, love so thick she could feel it all around her, lean back on it when she needed to. It reminded her, at first, of the fierce protectiveness of Blake's friends, and now she knew why they were like that, because he stumbles into trouble, that one.
One very early morning at Jess's place, sitting out on the tiny terrace, drinking coffee and watching the cars go by on Pico, Kat confessed a little more, that this man had sexually dominated her, and she probably would have done anything he wanted, which was a little scary when she thought about it. Oh, he'd treated her very well-he'd adored her, loved her-but was in love with someone else and that was that.
Jess sat with this for a moment, mulling it over as she tended to do, and then said, "Did the other person, the person he's in love with, know?"
"Yes. We're friends, actually."
"Did you have a three-way?"
"Yes."
"So you've had sex with a woman now."
"No."
Jess looked up. She was the least judgmental person Kat had ever known, which is why she was getting more of the story, but she did have a tendency to rip off the bandage. "So they're gay?"
"Well, obviously not," Kat said, palming her breast the way a baseball player adjusts his package. "I think one was newly bisexual, and one was, well, adventurous."
"How nice of you to let them work out their gay panic on your body," Jess said, acid in her voice.
"One stop, full service," Kat replied.
The toughest part was not going to any of the record release parties. She wasn't ready, she knew she wasn't, and so she'd go out with a girlfriend to a movie. She couldn't remember another year when she'd seen every Oscar movie. But she went to Virgin and bought the CD's at full price, even though they'd sent her copies, because she wanted them to get that inch up the chart. Then she put them in a box and stopped listening to pop radio.
Which was just as well because after the movie wrapped she was going to make a cabaret record. Simon was furious but she didn't care; Norah Jones had made money and all those older people knew her name now, too, so why not? Or like that British girl Katie whose last name no one could pronounce. Or she could be the female Bublé. It wouldn't be a money sink; she wasn't going to fill the thing with Jason Robert Brown songs, much as she'd like to. But it was a better fit vocally, and it was better for her in many ways. Chris's song, of course, fit right next to the Porter and the Gershwin, but then, Chris was that kind of songwriter. One day she realized she was using the machine, instead of being crushed by it. Maybe Blake had taught her something after all.
In the early spring she did go to a record release party, for Chris Daughtry. After all, he was her season, sort of like going to her own class reunion instead of messing with the juniors-juniors who were safely out on tours by then. Her appearance made a bit of a stir because no one had really seen her, but it was nice to be with them, to sit and giggle with Kellie and give Paris a hug and listen to Taylor yammering about whatever. Elliott was there too, sans model girlfriend, but then things fall apart.
"Kat, you look amazing," Chris said, when he got to her. "Better than I've seen you in a while."
"You haven't seen me in a while," Kat replied.
"There you go," Chris said, smiling, and god his lashes were long, and what was with men named Chris with long lashes anyway? "But the last time I saw you …"
"I was going through something," she said, quickly.
Chris looked at her, assessing, and she did her best to hold his eye and not squirm, because really, she had nothing to be ashamed of and oh, that's right, it was none of his business. Still, he took her by surprise when he said, "Which one?"
She should have just said, "Blake." He would have assumed that Blake had flitted off from her to Chris Richardson, and while he had a grudging respect for Blake's having followed his trail in twisting all Idol rules to suit himself, he didn't have a lot of time for the way Blake took bits from everywhere; Chris liked his music to burn pure. But she hadn't been expecting the question, or really, the confusion, as how could he not know it was Blake?
What she did say was, "It's complicated."
Chris looked at her, then pulled her into his arms and held her for a long time, one large hand rubbing the back of her head. She relaxed against him, letting her head nestle against his shoulder, and was glad she hadn't been drinking, as this was not a place she needed to be crying. But when she lifted her head she caught Elliott looking at her, and she felt unsettled and exposed.
He kissed her temple. "You deserve so much more than that, Kat."
She smiled. "Stop me if you think you've heard this one before."
Knowing how Elliott, Daughtry and Taylor all talked-really, the three of them were more gossipy than any girls she knew-she shouldn't have been surprised when she looked down at her blackberry three days later and saw Elliott calling her.
"To what do I owe this great honor?" she teased.
"I haven't seen you in a while?" Elliott replied.
"You saw me Monday night."
"Um, I'm in the studio and I'm bored?"
"Uh-huh," Kat said. She had forgotten how easy and fun it was to get him ruffled.
"Fine, I'm single now and I can't even remember what eating with a woman who is not my mother is like."
Kat bit her lip. "Elliott, are you asking me out on a date?"
"Well …"
"I'm just teasing you," she said, laughing. "I'd love to see you for dinner."
"Why can't it be a date?" Elliott asked.
"I …"
"We're both available."
"Yeah …"
"We're friends. One bad date won't change that."
"No …"
"So, why not?"
Kat took a deep breath. She felt a little panicky, but it had been almost six months. If not now, when? And who could be a safer band-aid than Elliott Yamin? "Why not?" she said. "Let's do it."
"Great!" Elliott said.
"Where should we go?"
"Well, I was going to ask you," he replied. "One of those, you know, tiny sushi places in the valley? You'd know about that."
"Oh," Kat said, surprised again. "Not on the west side?"
Elliott was silent for a moment. "This isn't for publicity, Kat."
"I think Simon wants me to do everything for publicity right now," Kat replied. "I've been pretty scarce, and I do have a record coming out this spring."
"I think Simon knows the value of eating in out-of-the-way places."
"True. Elliott, I didn't mean any-"
"I know," he interrupted. "I'm pleased that you'd think of me to get publicity."
"That's the business."
"Yeah. So where are we going?"
"There's this place in Tarzana," Kat replied. "I'll text you the address. What day?"
"Kat, it's a date. Saturday, and I'm picking you up."
"Right! Okay, great, I'll see you Saturday!"
"I'm looking forward to it," Elliott said, in that sincere way he had.
Kat smiled. "Me too," she said, and after she hung up she realized, she actually was.
Elliott parked his car and double checked his hair in the mirror. A date with Kat McPhee? What could be more improbable?
Not that he'd been pining for her or anything. Girl singers, in his experience, were either divas, pleasers, punks or pros. During the show Kat was a big-time pleaser, possibly on her way to becoming a diva, so that plus the boyfriend led Elliott to steer clear, at least romantically. Still, she was a genuinely nice girl, so they kept in touch, the same way he'd kept in touch with nearly all of the Idols because Elliott was that kinda guy. But the week before she'd been more spirited-defying Cowell on the direction of an album was not the act of a pleaser. And there was something in her eyes, in that flash when she glanced at him, something dark and resolute, and the way she'd immediately closed it off when she saw him-that wasn't the act of a diva, who wanted everyone to take care of them, or even a punk, who liked to wallow in her own darkness.
No, sometime in the last year, for some reason, Katharine McPhee had become a pro. Add that to the niceness which hadn't gone away, and the very attractive packaging, and you got a combination that Elliott had to see more of, if only to work out how and why she'd changed. He headed up the walk and rang the buzzer of Kat's bungalow.
Kat opened the door. "Hey! Come on in, let me just turn off the stereo."
Elliott closed the door behind him, surveying the place. He hadn't actually been here before; Kat had moved in sometime in the fall. But it was like her, feminine without being too girly, just soft colors and fabrics and things on the wall that weren't old album covers.
Kat reappeared quickly. "All set!"
The place she'd chosen was exactly what Elliott was hoping for, a tiny hole in the wall in some strip mall in Tarzana, and they sat down right at the sushi bar, Elliott against the wall, and watched as the chefs made roll after roll. Over the miso soup, Elliott asked, "So, what's going on? You did a movie?"
"Well, I only needed to be there for three weeks, in Toronto in January. And I was recording right when I got back, so I just sat in my room and learned the songs. But it was fun, and interesting, and hopefully won't go straight to video."
"Anything else? Other than the music, I mean."
Kat hesitated. "Well, you know how it is when you're in the studio."
"Getting over a broken heart, I guess that takes time."
Kat nearly dropped her spoon. "Broken heart?" she asked.
"Yeah, I mean, your fiance?"
"Oh, right, yes! Sorry, I wasn't thinking."
Elliott looked at her, sharply. "Or, you weren't thinking of that broken heart."
Kat looked down. "No."
"I guess that explains things. No, don't. It's fine; you don't have to say."
"Thanks," Kat said, smiling a bit. "And you?"
"Oh," Elliot replied, reaching for an edamame, "she was really kind and really beautiful, and not stupid at all. But it took me a while to realize that she really didn't have much to say. About anything. Ever, really."
"Ooh," Kat said, wincing.
"Yeah. So we got to the end, and shook hands, and that was that."
"You do seem different. In a good way. And it isn't just the whole look. You're more, yourself, somehow."
"So are you," Elliott replied.
Then the rolls came. They talked about promotional tours, and whether Billy Bush is even human, and red carpets, and which magazine parties were really worth going to, and how strange it was that Idol had started again, and the entire oeuvre of Will Farrell (she thought Anchorman was the best, he, Old School), and he vowed to sit her down and force her to watch all seven seasons of Buffy albeit slightly abridged and she responded with Hitchcock at least through North by Northwest, and then suddenly the place was closing, which couldn't be since hadn't they just arrived?
He really meant to just drop her off at her place, but coffee sounded practical, so he came in and sat on her couch.
He really meant to just drink her coffee, but she was so goddamned gorgeous when she laughed, so he made her laugh again and then he kissed her.
He really meant to just kiss her once or twice, see how it was, but she kissed like she hadn't been kissed in a while, and missed it, and he had, too, and then they were making out on her couch.
He did manage to leave before things went any further. It was a little late, and a little early, and he had time, and she was worth it. He walked out to his car and she waved from her door as he set out on the fifteen minute drive from her place in Santa Monica to his in West LA. He flipped on KCRW and they were playing some kind of plaintive Canadian indie-rock that didn't suit his mood, so he flipped it off, and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in the silence, singing a little. Then he put in the earpiece for his phone, and dialed the number.
"Hi," Kat said. "I'm glad you called."
Chapter 2: I've Got a Crush on You
Title: Different for Girls Chapter 1 of 7: But Not For Me
Pairing: American Idol: Katharine McPhee/Elliott Yamin
Summary: Kat's recent heartbreak has left her a changed woman-and now her old friend Elliott is seeing her in a different light.
Chapter Rating: PG
Chapter Length: 2400 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: Thank you, thank you, thank you lillijulianne. While this story is a sequel of sorts to her sequence of stories about Blake, Chris and Kat, which can be found at stepintomyocean, there's probably enough information here to read this on its own. All you need know is that Kat had been engaged to another man at the time she was fooling around with Blake and Chris.
1: But Not For Me | 2: I've Got a Crush on You | 3: Nice Work If You Can Get It | 4: You've Got What Gets Me | 5: They Can't Take That Away From Me | 6: How Long Has This Been Going On? | 7: Aren't You Kind of Glad We Did?
Chapter One: But Not For Me
In the end, of course, she couldn't go through with it, and broke it off. He was a good man, but she wasn't a particularly good girl, nor, she realized, did she really want to be, at least in that way. She told him that during their "hiatus" she had fallen in love with another man, and while that man hadn't fallen in love with her, it indicated that she probably wasn't in love with the man she'd said she'd marry, and that was enough for him, really for everyone.
The strange thing was that after, her mother said, "I'll tell you right now, Katharine, I liked him, but I was worried."
Her girlfriends surrounded her like worker bees, each in her own way making sure Kat didn't get lost, and it wasn't so much what they did as that they were doing it, the "hive mind of love" Tina called it, love so thick she could feel it all around her, lean back on it when she needed to. It reminded her, at first, of the fierce protectiveness of Blake's friends, and now she knew why they were like that, because he stumbles into trouble, that one.
One very early morning at Jess's place, sitting out on the tiny terrace, drinking coffee and watching the cars go by on Pico, Kat confessed a little more, that this man had sexually dominated her, and she probably would have done anything he wanted, which was a little scary when she thought about it. Oh, he'd treated her very well-he'd adored her, loved her-but was in love with someone else and that was that.
Jess sat with this for a moment, mulling it over as she tended to do, and then said, "Did the other person, the person he's in love with, know?"
"Yes. We're friends, actually."
"Did you have a three-way?"
"Yes."
"So you've had sex with a woman now."
"No."
Jess looked up. She was the least judgmental person Kat had ever known, which is why she was getting more of the story, but she did have a tendency to rip off the bandage. "So they're gay?"
"Well, obviously not," Kat said, palming her breast the way a baseball player adjusts his package. "I think one was newly bisexual, and one was, well, adventurous."
"How nice of you to let them work out their gay panic on your body," Jess said, acid in her voice.
"One stop, full service," Kat replied.
The toughest part was not going to any of the record release parties. She wasn't ready, she knew she wasn't, and so she'd go out with a girlfriend to a movie. She couldn't remember another year when she'd seen every Oscar movie. But she went to Virgin and bought the CD's at full price, even though they'd sent her copies, because she wanted them to get that inch up the chart. Then she put them in a box and stopped listening to pop radio.
Which was just as well because after the movie wrapped she was going to make a cabaret record. Simon was furious but she didn't care; Norah Jones had made money and all those older people knew her name now, too, so why not? Or like that British girl Katie whose last name no one could pronounce. Or she could be the female Bublé. It wouldn't be a money sink; she wasn't going to fill the thing with Jason Robert Brown songs, much as she'd like to. But it was a better fit vocally, and it was better for her in many ways. Chris's song, of course, fit right next to the Porter and the Gershwin, but then, Chris was that kind of songwriter. One day she realized she was using the machine, instead of being crushed by it. Maybe Blake had taught her something after all.
In the early spring she did go to a record release party, for Chris Daughtry. After all, he was her season, sort of like going to her own class reunion instead of messing with the juniors-juniors who were safely out on tours by then. Her appearance made a bit of a stir because no one had really seen her, but it was nice to be with them, to sit and giggle with Kellie and give Paris a hug and listen to Taylor yammering about whatever. Elliott was there too, sans model girlfriend, but then things fall apart.
"Kat, you look amazing," Chris said, when he got to her. "Better than I've seen you in a while."
"You haven't seen me in a while," Kat replied.
"There you go," Chris said, smiling, and god his lashes were long, and what was with men named Chris with long lashes anyway? "But the last time I saw you …"
"I was going through something," she said, quickly.
Chris looked at her, assessing, and she did her best to hold his eye and not squirm, because really, she had nothing to be ashamed of and oh, that's right, it was none of his business. Still, he took her by surprise when he said, "Which one?"
She should have just said, "Blake." He would have assumed that Blake had flitted off from her to Chris Richardson, and while he had a grudging respect for Blake's having followed his trail in twisting all Idol rules to suit himself, he didn't have a lot of time for the way Blake took bits from everywhere; Chris liked his music to burn pure. But she hadn't been expecting the question, or really, the confusion, as how could he not know it was Blake?
What she did say was, "It's complicated."
Chris looked at her, then pulled her into his arms and held her for a long time, one large hand rubbing the back of her head. She relaxed against him, letting her head nestle against his shoulder, and was glad she hadn't been drinking, as this was not a place she needed to be crying. But when she lifted her head she caught Elliott looking at her, and she felt unsettled and exposed.
He kissed her temple. "You deserve so much more than that, Kat."
She smiled. "Stop me if you think you've heard this one before."
Knowing how Elliott, Daughtry and Taylor all talked-really, the three of them were more gossipy than any girls she knew-she shouldn't have been surprised when she looked down at her blackberry three days later and saw Elliott calling her.
"To what do I owe this great honor?" she teased.
"I haven't seen you in a while?" Elliott replied.
"You saw me Monday night."
"Um, I'm in the studio and I'm bored?"
"Uh-huh," Kat said. She had forgotten how easy and fun it was to get him ruffled.
"Fine, I'm single now and I can't even remember what eating with a woman who is not my mother is like."
Kat bit her lip. "Elliott, are you asking me out on a date?"
"Well …"
"I'm just teasing you," she said, laughing. "I'd love to see you for dinner."
"Why can't it be a date?" Elliott asked.
"I …"
"We're both available."
"Yeah …"
"We're friends. One bad date won't change that."
"No …"
"So, why not?"
Kat took a deep breath. She felt a little panicky, but it had been almost six months. If not now, when? And who could be a safer band-aid than Elliott Yamin? "Why not?" she said. "Let's do it."
"Great!" Elliott said.
"Where should we go?"
"Well, I was going to ask you," he replied. "One of those, you know, tiny sushi places in the valley? You'd know about that."
"Oh," Kat said, surprised again. "Not on the west side?"
Elliott was silent for a moment. "This isn't for publicity, Kat."
"I think Simon wants me to do everything for publicity right now," Kat replied. "I've been pretty scarce, and I do have a record coming out this spring."
"I think Simon knows the value of eating in out-of-the-way places."
"True. Elliott, I didn't mean any-"
"I know," he interrupted. "I'm pleased that you'd think of me to get publicity."
"That's the business."
"Yeah. So where are we going?"
"There's this place in Tarzana," Kat replied. "I'll text you the address. What day?"
"Kat, it's a date. Saturday, and I'm picking you up."
"Right! Okay, great, I'll see you Saturday!"
"I'm looking forward to it," Elliott said, in that sincere way he had.
Kat smiled. "Me too," she said, and after she hung up she realized, she actually was.
Elliott parked his car and double checked his hair in the mirror. A date with Kat McPhee? What could be more improbable?
Not that he'd been pining for her or anything. Girl singers, in his experience, were either divas, pleasers, punks or pros. During the show Kat was a big-time pleaser, possibly on her way to becoming a diva, so that plus the boyfriend led Elliott to steer clear, at least romantically. Still, she was a genuinely nice girl, so they kept in touch, the same way he'd kept in touch with nearly all of the Idols because Elliott was that kinda guy. But the week before she'd been more spirited-defying Cowell on the direction of an album was not the act of a pleaser. And there was something in her eyes, in that flash when she glanced at him, something dark and resolute, and the way she'd immediately closed it off when she saw him-that wasn't the act of a diva, who wanted everyone to take care of them, or even a punk, who liked to wallow in her own darkness.
No, sometime in the last year, for some reason, Katharine McPhee had become a pro. Add that to the niceness which hadn't gone away, and the very attractive packaging, and you got a combination that Elliott had to see more of, if only to work out how and why she'd changed. He headed up the walk and rang the buzzer of Kat's bungalow.
Kat opened the door. "Hey! Come on in, let me just turn off the stereo."
Elliott closed the door behind him, surveying the place. He hadn't actually been here before; Kat had moved in sometime in the fall. But it was like her, feminine without being too girly, just soft colors and fabrics and things on the wall that weren't old album covers.
Kat reappeared quickly. "All set!"
The place she'd chosen was exactly what Elliott was hoping for, a tiny hole in the wall in some strip mall in Tarzana, and they sat down right at the sushi bar, Elliott against the wall, and watched as the chefs made roll after roll. Over the miso soup, Elliott asked, "So, what's going on? You did a movie?"
"Well, I only needed to be there for three weeks, in Toronto in January. And I was recording right when I got back, so I just sat in my room and learned the songs. But it was fun, and interesting, and hopefully won't go straight to video."
"Anything else? Other than the music, I mean."
Kat hesitated. "Well, you know how it is when you're in the studio."
"Getting over a broken heart, I guess that takes time."
Kat nearly dropped her spoon. "Broken heart?" she asked.
"Yeah, I mean, your fiance?"
"Oh, right, yes! Sorry, I wasn't thinking."
Elliott looked at her, sharply. "Or, you weren't thinking of that broken heart."
Kat looked down. "No."
"I guess that explains things. No, don't. It's fine; you don't have to say."
"Thanks," Kat said, smiling a bit. "And you?"
"Oh," Elliot replied, reaching for an edamame, "she was really kind and really beautiful, and not stupid at all. But it took me a while to realize that she really didn't have much to say. About anything. Ever, really."
"Ooh," Kat said, wincing.
"Yeah. So we got to the end, and shook hands, and that was that."
"You do seem different. In a good way. And it isn't just the whole look. You're more, yourself, somehow."
"So are you," Elliott replied.
Then the rolls came. They talked about promotional tours, and whether Billy Bush is even human, and red carpets, and which magazine parties were really worth going to, and how strange it was that Idol had started again, and the entire oeuvre of Will Farrell (she thought Anchorman was the best, he, Old School), and he vowed to sit her down and force her to watch all seven seasons of Buffy albeit slightly abridged and she responded with Hitchcock at least through North by Northwest, and then suddenly the place was closing, which couldn't be since hadn't they just arrived?
He really meant to just drop her off at her place, but coffee sounded practical, so he came in and sat on her couch.
He really meant to just drink her coffee, but she was so goddamned gorgeous when she laughed, so he made her laugh again and then he kissed her.
He really meant to just kiss her once or twice, see how it was, but she kissed like she hadn't been kissed in a while, and missed it, and he had, too, and then they were making out on her couch.
He did manage to leave before things went any further. It was a little late, and a little early, and he had time, and she was worth it. He walked out to his car and she waved from her door as he set out on the fifteen minute drive from her place in Santa Monica to his in West LA. He flipped on KCRW and they were playing some kind of plaintive Canadian indie-rock that didn't suit his mood, so he flipped it off, and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in the silence, singing a little. Then he put in the earpiece for his phone, and dialed the number.
"Hi," Kat said. "I'm glad you called."
Chapter 2: I've Got a Crush on You