Oy. So in suffering from writer's block in my real life writing obligations, I somehow managed to start this. Bear in mind it's been a few years since
I sat down to write a fanfic but the idea came and if it's terrible, let me know so I can find more productive ways to waste my time
Buckets of Rain - One
Eyes open. First, there's the blurred ceiling, grainy and stained. Then, with a little more focus, the eyes shift to survey whatever surroundings they can
without the body actually having to physically move. From the Bible on the nightstand to a list of guidelines and what appear to be pamphlets by the
television, she deduces she's in a hotel room. A cheap one, at that.
Somewhere nearby, a deep cough sounds and her eyes widen, alarmed and more than a little panicked. She shoots up in the bed, looks over to see a bare, freckled
back dressed with tattoos. Her gaze travels up to a nearly shaved head, then back down. She looks away the second she realizes that he, whoever the hell he is,
is almost certainly not wearing anything beneath the bedsheet he's wrapped around.
Looking down at herself, she all too quickly jumps out in search of her clothes, trying to preserve whatever modesty she clearly abandoned last night. All the
while her pounding head and the few remaining brain cells buried inside try to piece together how the hell she got here.
There was the bar, she thinks. The bar and a guy. "Very helpful," she mutters to herself, throwing a t-shirt that reeks of cigarette smoke and
tequila.
The body in the bed begins to shift awake and she pauses, scrambling to find her purse. As she picks it up, she digs through and pulls out her cell phone,
which explains through a few simple numbers that she has perhaps forty minutes to make it to the first day of a new job. "Fuck!" she shouts, and just
as fast covers a hand over her mouth. The body turns, blue eyes open lazily, and a cocky smile stretches across the beautiful stranger's face.
"Now why would you go and put all your clothes back on when you know I'm gonna take them off again?" he asks, sitting up to lean against the
headboard.
"What's your name?" she asks.
"Are you serious?" He's surprised, and mildly amused.
"Yeah, seriously."
"Huh. That's a first."
"Listen don't get offended or pouty or anything--I'm shit with names and I'm pretty sure I killed any brain activity I had left last
night." She's not sure why she feels obligated to explain, but she does.
"Justin," he says with a quiet laugh.
"Right. Justin, I'm--"
"Charly."
"Admirable skill, really, but I'm running late for a thing so, um....thanks for the sex I guess and good luck to you on future...ventures. Right. I
should've stopped at the sex part. And I'm still talking and I don't know why. I'm leaving now." The rambling has a tendency to get her
trouble more often than not, but at this particular moment he finds it utterly endearing.
Justin smirks and she's half-tempted to jump back in the bed but manages to practice restraint. "That's it? I don't even get 'I'll
call you sometime' or sympathy cuddling? I feel jipped."
"Generally when the stupid drunk sex is over, yeah, that's it. Now there's just the hangover and morning after shame. So what are you, slow to
react?"
"The hangover's well under way." She doesn't for a second miss the mischief in his eyes.
"I really do have to go," she says abruptly.
He swings his legs over the side of the bed and she turns to face the door as he moves to stand. "Oh god," she closes her eyes. He chuckles to
himself and quickly pulls his clothes on. Grabbing his watch from the nightstand, he slips it on before looking at it. "Oh shit."
"What?" Charly is still facing the door, eyes unopened.
Grabbing his jacket off the floor he makes it to the door in three quick strides. His arm reaches around her and his head lowers towards her neck.
"What the hell are you doing?" she tenses, and lips curve into a smile before he reaches for the doorknob. Charly sighs in relief before the
embarrassment settles in.
"Guess we're both late," he whispers, breath hot against her neck.
><><<br />
Downstairs in the lobby, both Justin and Charly breeze through, hurrying towards the swinging doors. He bumps into her and they find that they're both
trapped within the confines of one exit. "Sorry," he mumbles, pressed against her but she can see him trying to suppress his laughter.
"You're doing this on purpose."
"No, but I am enjoying it. Now are you gonna go or keep leaning into me because I'm warning you...you keep doing that and--"
"I'm going!"
"Just a warning--when we get out there walk in the opposite direction of me unless you want your picture on the net."
"Why would my--"
"Trust me," he assures her, and inexplicably she believes him.
They make it through the doors and as he turns right, Charly makes a sharp turn left. She looks over her shoulder to see a swarm of photographers following him
down the block. Her eyes linger a few moments curiously and she smiles a little as he flips them off.
She shakes her head and returns her gaze to the street. Standing at the corner, she lifts her right arm. Within seconds a cab pulls up to the curb and she
slides easily inside. "Seventy-eighth and York please."
Slipping on a pair of sunglasses, she reaches for her cell phone again. A number is dialed by memorization and she closes her eyes against the berating she
knows is coming.
"What the fuck happened to you last night and I swear to god, tell me you're in a hospital and in obscene pain otherwise when I'm through with you
you sure as hell will be."
"I'm sorry, Lauren. How is she?" she asks, her voice going soft with the question.
"She's freaking out is what she is. You're never home a minute later than four, you disappear for the rest of the night and even she's aware
that it's unlike you not to so much as CALL. I wasn't exactly planning a sleepover here."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'll explain later...if I can remember enough to explain but right now can you just do me a huge favor and hang around
for a few more hours? I'll come pick her up, but I'm running late for the initial meeting as it is and...I'd appreciate it."
"Fine. But you owe me dinner."
"Fair enough," Charly laughs, ending the call.
Pressing a thumb and forefinger against her throbbing temple, she struggles to remember the details of the previous night, ignoring the fact that she still
found him charming this morning.
"One more," Justin holds up a finger, giggling. "I swear, one more and I'm gone."
"Listen, Tequila, I'm DRUNK. And I'm still working...I have to CLOSE and I don't remember how to count!" Charly says with a sly grin,
reaching behind her for the bottle of Patron. She pours two more shots into the oversized glasses and pushes one towards him. "Last one. Last one."
"Your nose is pretty."
"Yours is...not."
"Fuck off," he laughs, putting the glass to his lips and downing the liquor in one swift motion. "How's it so empty in here?"
"Sunday night." She shifts uncomfortably under his unwavering gaze. "Be right back."
She heads to the back of the bar and disappears into the bathroom, stumbling a little on the way. Her fingers fumble around, looking for her phone when she
hears the door open behind her. Turning, she smiles sleepily as he himself stumbles inside. "Tequila, this is the girl's room and you're not
supposed to--"
Without warning, he grabs her around the neck and within seconds she finds herself slammed against the door. "What the hell.."
"Just go with it." He leans down and covers her mouth with his. A finger slides into her belt loop and he pulls her forward until she's pressed
against him, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.
"You gettin' out or what?" The cab driver hisses, breaking her from her daze. She hands him some cash and hops out of the car, running inside the
building.
Once in, she races towards the elevators, scans the bulletin board for the room and floor numbers, and waits impatiently. The elevator arrives and she steps
inside, willing it to get her upstairs at a much faster rate.
><><<br />
"You left a bar at FIVE in the morning with your shirt inside out and with a bartender. Is it your mission in life to make me miserable?"
"I was drunk, sorry," Justin says with a simple shrug of his shoulders. "Rob, chill, alright? It's not a thing."
"Til' she goes to the tabloids."
"Doubt it."
"Full of faith this morning, huh? She must've been good."
"She had no idea who I was."
"Bullshit. She's probably just--"
"She didn't even know my name. I've never had a chick ASK me what my name was the morning after," he laughs. "It was kind of
fantastic."
"Don't go getting a crush on her, that's the last thing that's going to help this situation. You left separately this morning?" Rob asks,
fear in his tone.
"I went one way, she went the other. Don't think anybody recognized her."
"Good. But just in case, have a statement ready for me as to why you spent the night in St. Mark's Hotel when you're staying at the Plaza."
"You got it, Pops. You want five hundred words or less?"
Rob picks a few papers up from his desk. "You're not nearly as charming as you think you are."
Justin smiles as he stands, extending a hand for him to shake. "I'm out. See you for that dinner thing tonight."
Rob only nods an acknowledgment.
Justin leaves the office, fishing around his pockets for his keys. As he rounds the corner, he bumps into something hard. Instinctively, his hands reach out to
steady the other person before a fall. "Sorry about..."
He stops when his eyes meet hers and an easy grin spreads across his face. "Are you following me?"
"Why are you here?" Charly asks anxiously.
"I had a meeting with my PR guy."
"What are you, Bono or something? I have a meeting and I'm late and the arms you're holding onto so tightly are attached, and I've grown used
to having them around."
He lets go. "Who's your meeting with?"
"Robert Chase. He agreed to let me intern with the company if I'd double as an assistant. Pays well and...I don't have time for this I'm
LATE." She pushes past him, but stops at the sound of his voice.
"You really didn't know my name?"
"I was calling you Tequila all night, no I didn't know your name. Forever sorry."
"So you remembered."
"LATE!"
"Sorry, go ahead. I'll probably see you for dinner tonight."
"Are you delusional or do you really think that--"
"Rob's my PR guy. And if you're his new assistant, then I'm gonna see you pretty often because he's on my ass pretty much...always."
With a wink and a flash of his teeth, Justin walks in the other direction.
"FUCK," Charly hisses, heading to the office.
I sat down to write a fanfic but the idea came and if it's terrible, let me know so I can find more productive ways to waste my time
Buckets of Rain - One
Eyes open. First, there's the blurred ceiling, grainy and stained. Then, with a little more focus, the eyes shift to survey whatever surroundings they can
without the body actually having to physically move. From the Bible on the nightstand to a list of guidelines and what appear to be pamphlets by the
television, she deduces she's in a hotel room. A cheap one, at that.
Somewhere nearby, a deep cough sounds and her eyes widen, alarmed and more than a little panicked. She shoots up in the bed, looks over to see a bare, freckled
back dressed with tattoos. Her gaze travels up to a nearly shaved head, then back down. She looks away the second she realizes that he, whoever the hell he is,
is almost certainly not wearing anything beneath the bedsheet he's wrapped around.
Looking down at herself, she all too quickly jumps out in search of her clothes, trying to preserve whatever modesty she clearly abandoned last night. All the
while her pounding head and the few remaining brain cells buried inside try to piece together how the hell she got here.
There was the bar, she thinks. The bar and a guy. "Very helpful," she mutters to herself, throwing a t-shirt that reeks of cigarette smoke and
tequila.
The body in the bed begins to shift awake and she pauses, scrambling to find her purse. As she picks it up, she digs through and pulls out her cell phone,
which explains through a few simple numbers that she has perhaps forty minutes to make it to the first day of a new job. "Fuck!" she shouts, and just
as fast covers a hand over her mouth. The body turns, blue eyes open lazily, and a cocky smile stretches across the beautiful stranger's face.
"Now why would you go and put all your clothes back on when you know I'm gonna take them off again?" he asks, sitting up to lean against the
headboard.
"What's your name?" she asks.
"Are you serious?" He's surprised, and mildly amused.
"Yeah, seriously."
"Huh. That's a first."
"Listen don't get offended or pouty or anything--I'm shit with names and I'm pretty sure I killed any brain activity I had left last
night." She's not sure why she feels obligated to explain, but she does.
"Justin," he says with a quiet laugh.
"Right. Justin, I'm--"
"Charly."
"Admirable skill, really, but I'm running late for a thing so, um....thanks for the sex I guess and good luck to you on future...ventures. Right. I
should've stopped at the sex part. And I'm still talking and I don't know why. I'm leaving now." The rambling has a tendency to get her
trouble more often than not, but at this particular moment he finds it utterly endearing.
Justin smirks and she's half-tempted to jump back in the bed but manages to practice restraint. "That's it? I don't even get 'I'll
call you sometime' or sympathy cuddling? I feel jipped."
"Generally when the stupid drunk sex is over, yeah, that's it. Now there's just the hangover and morning after shame. So what are you, slow to
react?"
"The hangover's well under way." She doesn't for a second miss the mischief in his eyes.
"I really do have to go," she says abruptly.
He swings his legs over the side of the bed and she turns to face the door as he moves to stand. "Oh god," she closes her eyes. He chuckles to
himself and quickly pulls his clothes on. Grabbing his watch from the nightstand, he slips it on before looking at it. "Oh shit."
"What?" Charly is still facing the door, eyes unopened.
Grabbing his jacket off the floor he makes it to the door in three quick strides. His arm reaches around her and his head lowers towards her neck.
"What the hell are you doing?" she tenses, and lips curve into a smile before he reaches for the doorknob. Charly sighs in relief before the
embarrassment settles in.
"Guess we're both late," he whispers, breath hot against her neck.
><><<br />
Downstairs in the lobby, both Justin and Charly breeze through, hurrying towards the swinging doors. He bumps into her and they find that they're both
trapped within the confines of one exit. "Sorry," he mumbles, pressed against her but she can see him trying to suppress his laughter.
"You're doing this on purpose."
"No, but I am enjoying it. Now are you gonna go or keep leaning into me because I'm warning you...you keep doing that and--"
"I'm going!"
"Just a warning--when we get out there walk in the opposite direction of me unless you want your picture on the net."
"Why would my--"
"Trust me," he assures her, and inexplicably she believes him.
They make it through the doors and as he turns right, Charly makes a sharp turn left. She looks over her shoulder to see a swarm of photographers following him
down the block. Her eyes linger a few moments curiously and she smiles a little as he flips them off.
She shakes her head and returns her gaze to the street. Standing at the corner, she lifts her right arm. Within seconds a cab pulls up to the curb and she
slides easily inside. "Seventy-eighth and York please."
Slipping on a pair of sunglasses, she reaches for her cell phone again. A number is dialed by memorization and she closes her eyes against the berating she
knows is coming.
"What the fuck happened to you last night and I swear to god, tell me you're in a hospital and in obscene pain otherwise when I'm through with you
you sure as hell will be."
"I'm sorry, Lauren. How is she?" she asks, her voice going soft with the question.
"She's freaking out is what she is. You're never home a minute later than four, you disappear for the rest of the night and even she's aware
that it's unlike you not to so much as CALL. I wasn't exactly planning a sleepover here."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'll explain later...if I can remember enough to explain but right now can you just do me a huge favor and hang around
for a few more hours? I'll come pick her up, but I'm running late for the initial meeting as it is and...I'd appreciate it."
"Fine. But you owe me dinner."
"Fair enough," Charly laughs, ending the call.
Pressing a thumb and forefinger against her throbbing temple, she struggles to remember the details of the previous night, ignoring the fact that she still
found him charming this morning.
"One more," Justin holds up a finger, giggling. "I swear, one more and I'm gone."
"Listen, Tequila, I'm DRUNK. And I'm still working...I have to CLOSE and I don't remember how to count!" Charly says with a sly grin,
reaching behind her for the bottle of Patron. She pours two more shots into the oversized glasses and pushes one towards him. "Last one. Last one."
"Your nose is pretty."
"Yours is...not."
"Fuck off," he laughs, putting the glass to his lips and downing the liquor in one swift motion. "How's it so empty in here?"
"Sunday night." She shifts uncomfortably under his unwavering gaze. "Be right back."
She heads to the back of the bar and disappears into the bathroom, stumbling a little on the way. Her fingers fumble around, looking for her phone when she
hears the door open behind her. Turning, she smiles sleepily as he himself stumbles inside. "Tequila, this is the girl's room and you're not
supposed to--"
Without warning, he grabs her around the neck and within seconds she finds herself slammed against the door. "What the hell.."
"Just go with it." He leans down and covers her mouth with his. A finger slides into her belt loop and he pulls her forward until she's pressed
against him, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.
"You gettin' out or what?" The cab driver hisses, breaking her from her daze. She hands him some cash and hops out of the car, running inside the
building.
Once in, she races towards the elevators, scans the bulletin board for the room and floor numbers, and waits impatiently. The elevator arrives and she steps
inside, willing it to get her upstairs at a much faster rate.
><><<br />
"You left a bar at FIVE in the morning with your shirt inside out and with a bartender. Is it your mission in life to make me miserable?"
"I was drunk, sorry," Justin says with a simple shrug of his shoulders. "Rob, chill, alright? It's not a thing."
"Til' she goes to the tabloids."
"Doubt it."
"Full of faith this morning, huh? She must've been good."
"She had no idea who I was."
"Bullshit. She's probably just--"
"She didn't even know my name. I've never had a chick ASK me what my name was the morning after," he laughs. "It was kind of
fantastic."
"Don't go getting a crush on her, that's the last thing that's going to help this situation. You left separately this morning?" Rob asks,
fear in his tone.
"I went one way, she went the other. Don't think anybody recognized her."
"Good. But just in case, have a statement ready for me as to why you spent the night in St. Mark's Hotel when you're staying at the Plaza."
"You got it, Pops. You want five hundred words or less?"
Rob picks a few papers up from his desk. "You're not nearly as charming as you think you are."
Justin smiles as he stands, extending a hand for him to shake. "I'm out. See you for that dinner thing tonight."
Rob only nods an acknowledgment.
Justin leaves the office, fishing around his pockets for his keys. As he rounds the corner, he bumps into something hard. Instinctively, his hands reach out to
steady the other person before a fall. "Sorry about..."
He stops when his eyes meet hers and an easy grin spreads across his face. "Are you following me?"
"Why are you here?" Charly asks anxiously.
"I had a meeting with my PR guy."
"What are you, Bono or something? I have a meeting and I'm late and the arms you're holding onto so tightly are attached, and I've grown used
to having them around."
He lets go. "Who's your meeting with?"
"Robert Chase. He agreed to let me intern with the company if I'd double as an assistant. Pays well and...I don't have time for this I'm
LATE." She pushes past him, but stops at the sound of his voice.
"You really didn't know my name?"
"I was calling you Tequila all night, no I didn't know your name. Forever sorry."
"So you remembered."
"LATE!"
"Sorry, go ahead. I'll probably see you for dinner tonight."
"Are you delusional or do you really think that--"
"Rob's my PR guy. And if you're his new assistant, then I'm gonna see you pretty often because he's on my ass pretty much...always."
With a wink and a flash of his teeth, Justin walks in the other direction.
"FUCK," Charly hisses, heading to the office.
Me likey, update soooon!