Fic: Say It's Possible (1/?)
Title: Say It’s Possible (1/?)
Fandom: RPS - yes, that’s real person slash.
Pairing: Eliza Dushku/Katie Heigl.
Rating: PG, for now.
Words: 1061.
Notes/Disclaimer: Fic title is the song “Say It’s Possible” by terra naomi. Lyrics are from the same song. It took me a really long time to settle on a title for this fic, and I’m finally satisfied with the title, so yay! Haha.
Katie Heigl is not married in this fic. And if Eliza Dushku is dating anyone in RL, then she’s not in this fic.
This was also inspired by THIS post (specifically, THIS PICTURE). So you all can blame/thank gets_it_faster for this.
This is not intended to imply anything about these actresses. I’m merely writing this fic for fun. This is also my first attempt at RPS, so while I appreciate any thoughts (good or bad), please keep them constructive!
- - - - - - -
I see the lights are turning
And I look outside; the stars are burning
- - - - - - -
She meets her for the second time at a Vogue event.
Well. It’s called an event, but really, everyone knows it’s a party. There’s a host to greet everyone at the entrance, and he takes coats, bags - anything anyone needs taken away. Inside, the carpet is plush and a deep wine colour; the lighting is bright enough to avoid any embarrassing accidents (such as mistaking Blake Lively for Hayden Panetierre, because hello, it’s dark and they’re both blonde and from a distance, they could be the same person), but not too bright; and although it’s more than a little noisy with the chatter of the famous, the atmosphere is pleasant enough and the champagne is more than just right.
Katie thinks she could live with this.
She’s usually at functions with her best friend Kate, of course, but the redhead (who dyed her hair a dark brown recently, and while Katie is supportive of Kate, she’s still trying to get used to the new colour, and she’ll call her a redhead whenever she wants, thankyouverymuch) is out with Alex tonight, and Katie can’t complain. She just can’t. Husbands are allowed to come before friends, sometimes.
So Katie is stuck being alone, and she sips on her glass of champagne by the bar, hoping she doesn’t look too lonely or too awkward.
An hour passes, and several photographers have already snapped a shot, or two, or three of her at the bar, and she doesn’t think it’s going to be very good for her image if all of the pictures of her from this night are of her and her champagne. Kate will never let her live it down.
And taking a final sip of her second champagne of the evening (she doesn’t like to rush her drinks), she sets the glass back down on the counter and makes her way back through the crowd. She’s not really headed anywhere, but it’s not long before she comes upon a familiar face.
“Oh,” she mutters, stopping in her tracks. She smiles now. “Hey.”
The brunette she’s addressing pauses, too, and after a beat responds in kind, “Hey.”
“It’s been a while,” Katie continues, reaching a hand to touch Eliza’s arm, brushing off the tingly feeling she gets as she does so. And it has been ages - they haven’t really spoken since 1992, when they both appeared in That Night. It had been her very first film, and Eliza’s too, if Katie recalls correctly. “How have you been?”
Eliza gives a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and Katie wonders if she’s just feeling a bit awkward in the situation, or if it’s something else altogether. But Eliza answers, “I’ve been great - been with the family a lot lately, but there’s this show I started working on, too.” There’s another pause in the conversation, and then Eliza asks, “What about you? How have you been?”
“Good,” is all Katie can think to say, because she doesn’t know what else is appropriate. She doesn’t know why, but she’s a little bit nervous. She thinks it has something to do with Eliza; she feels a little intimidated by the younger woman. Eliza is gorgeous tonight, and while Katie knows she’s quite a catch too (she doesn’t mean to brag; having worked in the business for years has gotten her a certain amount of confidence), she thinks Eliza is the better catch.
And it’s not jealousy. It’s not jealousy at all.
“Have you tried their snacks?” Eliza suddenly inquires, glancing over at the table next to the bar as though wondering if she should give some of the tidbits a try.
Katie shakes her head, “No. The champagne isn’t half-bad, though. It’s actually good.”
Eliza laughs, like it’s an inside joke between the both of them, and even though it’s not - even though the entire industry knows that bad champagne is served at almost every event - Katie likes it. It makes her feel a little less lonely in that instant.
It’s almost like they have an unspoken agreement of some kind, because the next minute they both start walking towards the bar. They’re stopped midway by a photographer who snaps a picture of the both of them, but soon they’re back on track.
Eliza gets a champagne from the bar, and Katie opts for the snacks instead.
“You’re right,” Eliza says from Katie’s left just as Katie is picking out a mini éclair.
“What?”
“The champagne,” Eliza tilts her head, indicating her glass of champagne, “It’s not bad.”
Katie smirks. “Told you so.”
Eliza grins - a real grin - and a moment of silence passes between them as Katie takes a bite of the éclair.
“You were always the first to get the food, you know,” Eliza states.
“You mean on-set?” Katie asks after she’s swallowed.
Eliza makes a ‘well, duh’ face and Katie rolls her eyes.
“What can I say? I like food,” she pops the remainder of the éclair into her mouth, and it’s another minute before she can speak, “Besides, the snacks weren’t my idea. You were the one who was asking about them. So my verdict? Is that the éclairs are delicious.”
Eliza gives Katie a look, and Katie’s not quite sure what it means, but she decides it’s not a bad look. She grabs Eliza’s hand, decidedly more comfortable with the brunette now that she’s spent a total of fifteen minutes with her (it seems more like the old days, and she’s fourteen again, and Eliza’s twelve), and drags her to the photo booth set up near the entrance.
“Not pictures again?” Eliza lifts an eyebrow, though Katie knows she doesn’t mind because there’s a hint of a smile colouring her features.
“Yes, pictures again,” Katie responds as she pushes Eliza towards the booth (which Katie Holmes and a friend are conveniently vacating), “You’re not afraid of the picture booth, are you?”
Eliza laughs at that, and again Katie feels that disconcerting warmth starting in the pit of her belly. She’s had enough of that feeling for the evening (damn Eliza and her laughter), and she rolls her eyes and jokingly nags, “Hurry it up, you. Soon it’ll be midnight and we can start the countdown to the next sixteen years of not seeing each other.”
Eliza slips into the photo booth, still laughing, and Katie, still tingling, follows after her.
- - - - - - -
ETA: So evidently, I can't count. It's supposed to be sixteen years, not twelve, since they last saw each other, so I just changed that.
Fandom: RPS - yes, that’s real person slash.
Pairing: Eliza Dushku/Katie Heigl.
Rating: PG, for now.
Words: 1061.
Notes/Disclaimer: Fic title is the song “Say It’s Possible” by terra naomi. Lyrics are from the same song. It took me a really long time to settle on a title for this fic, and I’m finally satisfied with the title, so yay! Haha.
Katie Heigl is not married in this fic. And if Eliza Dushku is dating anyone in RL, then she’s not in this fic.
This was also inspired by THIS post (specifically, THIS PICTURE). So you all can blame/thank gets_it_faster for this.
This is not intended to imply anything about these actresses. I’m merely writing this fic for fun. This is also my first attempt at RPS, so while I appreciate any thoughts (good or bad), please keep them constructive!
- - - - - - -
I see the lights are turning
And I look outside; the stars are burning
- - - - - - -
She meets her for the second time at a Vogue event.
Well. It’s called an event, but really, everyone knows it’s a party. There’s a host to greet everyone at the entrance, and he takes coats, bags - anything anyone needs taken away. Inside, the carpet is plush and a deep wine colour; the lighting is bright enough to avoid any embarrassing accidents (such as mistaking Blake Lively for Hayden Panetierre, because hello, it’s dark and they’re both blonde and from a distance, they could be the same person), but not too bright; and although it’s more than a little noisy with the chatter of the famous, the atmosphere is pleasant enough and the champagne is more than just right.
Katie thinks she could live with this.
She’s usually at functions with her best friend Kate, of course, but the redhead (who dyed her hair a dark brown recently, and while Katie is supportive of Kate, she’s still trying to get used to the new colour, and she’ll call her a redhead whenever she wants, thankyouverymuch) is out with Alex tonight, and Katie can’t complain. She just can’t. Husbands are allowed to come before friends, sometimes.
So Katie is stuck being alone, and she sips on her glass of champagne by the bar, hoping she doesn’t look too lonely or too awkward.
An hour passes, and several photographers have already snapped a shot, or two, or three of her at the bar, and she doesn’t think it’s going to be very good for her image if all of the pictures of her from this night are of her and her champagne. Kate will never let her live it down.
And taking a final sip of her second champagne of the evening (she doesn’t like to rush her drinks), she sets the glass back down on the counter and makes her way back through the crowd. She’s not really headed anywhere, but it’s not long before she comes upon a familiar face.
“Oh,” she mutters, stopping in her tracks. She smiles now. “Hey.”
The brunette she’s addressing pauses, too, and after a beat responds in kind, “Hey.”
“It’s been a while,” Katie continues, reaching a hand to touch Eliza’s arm, brushing off the tingly feeling she gets as she does so. And it has been ages - they haven’t really spoken since 1992, when they both appeared in That Night. It had been her very first film, and Eliza’s too, if Katie recalls correctly. “How have you been?”
Eliza gives a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and Katie wonders if she’s just feeling a bit awkward in the situation, or if it’s something else altogether. But Eliza answers, “I’ve been great - been with the family a lot lately, but there’s this show I started working on, too.” There’s another pause in the conversation, and then Eliza asks, “What about you? How have you been?”
“Good,” is all Katie can think to say, because she doesn’t know what else is appropriate. She doesn’t know why, but she’s a little bit nervous. She thinks it has something to do with Eliza; she feels a little intimidated by the younger woman. Eliza is gorgeous tonight, and while Katie knows she’s quite a catch too (she doesn’t mean to brag; having worked in the business for years has gotten her a certain amount of confidence), she thinks Eliza is the better catch.
And it’s not jealousy. It’s not jealousy at all.
“Have you tried their snacks?” Eliza suddenly inquires, glancing over at the table next to the bar as though wondering if she should give some of the tidbits a try.
Katie shakes her head, “No. The champagne isn’t half-bad, though. It’s actually good.”
Eliza laughs, like it’s an inside joke between the both of them, and even though it’s not - even though the entire industry knows that bad champagne is served at almost every event - Katie likes it. It makes her feel a little less lonely in that instant.
It’s almost like they have an unspoken agreement of some kind, because the next minute they both start walking towards the bar. They’re stopped midway by a photographer who snaps a picture of the both of them, but soon they’re back on track.
Eliza gets a champagne from the bar, and Katie opts for the snacks instead.
“You’re right,” Eliza says from Katie’s left just as Katie is picking out a mini éclair.
“What?”
“The champagne,” Eliza tilts her head, indicating her glass of champagne, “It’s not bad.”
Katie smirks. “Told you so.”
Eliza grins - a real grin - and a moment of silence passes between them as Katie takes a bite of the éclair.
“You were always the first to get the food, you know,” Eliza states.
“You mean on-set?” Katie asks after she’s swallowed.
Eliza makes a ‘well, duh’ face and Katie rolls her eyes.
“What can I say? I like food,” she pops the remainder of the éclair into her mouth, and it’s another minute before she can speak, “Besides, the snacks weren’t my idea. You were the one who was asking about them. So my verdict? Is that the éclairs are delicious.”
Eliza gives Katie a look, and Katie’s not quite sure what it means, but she decides it’s not a bad look. She grabs Eliza’s hand, decidedly more comfortable with the brunette now that she’s spent a total of fifteen minutes with her (it seems more like the old days, and she’s fourteen again, and Eliza’s twelve), and drags her to the photo booth set up near the entrance.
“Not pictures again?” Eliza lifts an eyebrow, though Katie knows she doesn’t mind because there’s a hint of a smile colouring her features.
“Yes, pictures again,” Katie responds as she pushes Eliza towards the booth (which Katie Holmes and a friend are conveniently vacating), “You’re not afraid of the picture booth, are you?”
Eliza laughs at that, and again Katie feels that disconcerting warmth starting in the pit of her belly. She’s had enough of that feeling for the evening (damn Eliza and her laughter), and she rolls her eyes and jokingly nags, “Hurry it up, you. Soon it’ll be midnight and we can start the countdown to the next sixteen years of not seeing each other.”
Eliza slips into the photo booth, still laughing, and Katie, still tingling, follows after her.
- - - - - - -
ETA: So evidently, I can't count. It's supposed to be sixteen years, not twelve, since they last saw each other, so I just changed that.