Don't kid yourself, Jimmy; if a cow ever got the chance, he'd eat you and everyone you cared about.

[threeguesses]

Stolen from lowriseflare, who got it from fated_addiction:

Give me a pairing (or character, or the name of a show) and a prompt (a word, a phrase, a situation, an emotion, a few lines from a song or, hell, even an entire song) and I will do my best to write you a snippet based on your request.

Not sure how well this is going to work, considering this is a fic journal read by very few people, but TOO BAD, I have three seconds of free time and the newfound ability to write only in 200 word chunks. Come at me.

Comments

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

HEEE, ALL THESE PROMPTS, way to be on top of shit, Internet.

Luke/Jo, look what the cat dragged in

(but, uh. Probably you should write all those other people's first)

bow out gracefully, you’d think by now I

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

[IN MY HEAD THEY'RE BASICALLY ELLIOT AND OLIVIA 2.0.]

Jo leaves because she doesn’t want it--babies, a ring--but also because she doesn’t want it yet. She may never want it, sure, but hey. Contingency plans.

(That’s the other thing: she leaves because she knows he’ll take her back.)

She’s selfish, Jo.

(But. Not wrong.)



The second time they fuck, he brings her a glass of water in bed. Jo rolls her eyes and thinks, too nice for his own good. She thinks, god, I’m going to break his—

It doesn’t particularly bother her, at the time.



She hears he got suave, after she left. The first time he kissed her--four months into their partnership, the kind of crappy stakeout Jo thought she’d never see again out of uniform--it was awkward, all knocking teeth and coppery blood in Jo’s mouth. He had such pale eyelashes. Bright hometown-boy smile.

(A farm outside of Brantford, he told her later, when they were at that stage of fucking that’s all getting-to-know-you pillow talk, holding hands in public.

Jo hates that stage.

Still: “Explains a lot,” she’d said, and kissed him. His mouth tasted like the Clean Air Act.)

Now, though-- A new rookie each year, someone mutters.

Well.

(It’s why Jo doesn’t mind so much at first; McNally.)



How she knows (thinks she knows, thinks, it would be almost criminally insane to be sure after--):

That first time, in the surveillance van, holding her split lip and laughing at him until the blush travelled all the way to his ears; the way his eyes got wide when she stopped laughing and reached for his belt.

She’s not his first love, sure--Maggie Farrow, eleventh grade--but she was his partner, and they shared each other’s colds and cutlery for four fucking years, could break a perp’s alibi in under twenty. He used to keep an extra hair elastic in his desk for her.

So when she takes the transfer--don’t do this to us, he’d said, Jo please--Jo doesn’t really think she’s doing anything irrevocable.

(What she thinks she’s doing: pressing pause.)



“I didn’t think you were that guy,” she says to him one night, side-by-side paperwork like old times. He still uses the same fucking brand of pen.

He doesn’t even look up. “I’m not any guy. I love her.”

(Their second year together, some asshole working Gangs suggested Jo’s main contribution to the partnership was bending over.

Luke knocked out two of his teeth.)

“Okay,” Jo says. “Sure. Whatever you say.”



So when she gets him down on that hotel bed--finally, finally, she’s been itching since she saw that ring, McNally’s skinny little-girl fingers--Jo breathes a bit easier, because yes, yes, her contingency plan is still in place.

Selfish. Yeah.

(But also: she loves him, she loves him, of course she--)

She still doesn’t want the ring, is the problem.

(She just doesn’t want anyone else wearing it.)

MOST IMPORTANTLY: HOW DID YOU MAKE LUKE SO SEXY IN THIS?

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

GOD, JO, you are a Canadian Olivia Benson and you deserved so much better than what you got. She thought she was pressing pause! She hates the talking phase and OH GOD, THE HAIR ELASTIC AND HIM PUNCHING THAT GUY IN THE TEETH, THAT WAS ACES.

(Also, have been meaning to ask you for like a week--where do you stand on RPF for this show? Because, unsurprisingly: I WANT IT.)

I DON'T EVEN KNOW; ALSO, SUDDENLY HE'S A HICK?

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

Re: RPF; where does Rachel stand?-- WITH IT ALL THE WAY. Ahem.

(It doesn't help that Missy's personality basically equals Andy's in my head. SO.)

...See, NOW I'm wishing I prompted you with some.

I DON'T KNOW WHY I THINK THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS BASICALLY THE SAME AS THEIR CHARACTERS'

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

and that they used to be kind of goofy and flirty but then he came back to shoot this season all married and stuff and it's possible she's kind of put out about it, she doesn't even know, and also every single script they've gotten so far calls for them to be naked and climbing each other, so.

IF I BELIEVE IT TOO, IT MUST BE FACT.

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

And like, the girl is younger than her, which; gross--but especially because everyone made such a big deal about their age difference, all the jokes. Even the script for fuck's sake, Swarek-McNally and their stupid student/teacher thing.

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

Missy met her at the wrap party last season and she's a perfectly nice girl ("a perfectly nice girl!" she kept telling everyone, until finally Enuka made her switch to water); still, the whole night she just kept thinking: God, I just sucked face with your boyfriend all day.

Which, whatever, they're all professionals here, obviously, except then he's muttering in her ear between takes like, "Tilt your head back a little more, MP," because apparently that angle is better for the aesthetics of biting, and Missy is just saying--well, she doesn't know what she's saying, exactly.

Nothing. She's not saying anything.

(She's never had a nickname until now.)

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

It could be worse, she guesses. That first scene, jesus, where they had to be all up on each other for fifty billion takes-- she can't watch herself being sexy in any context, but especially not that scene, because holy crap her face. (He'd been grinding into her for upwards of an hour, is the thing--like, right up against her, and normally shit like that will be filmed so there's some space, or just--and in the final cut you can kind of tell she's uh. Feeling it.)

So. At least it's not that particular level of awkward.

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

She's annoyed at him today, though; they've been arguing all morning (Sam-n-Andy have their first big fight! Outside the cruiser! In the freezing rain!) and she's just, she could use a break from him and his million faces, is all. She feels like a half-drowned rat. 

She's sitting in her trailer playing Angry Birds and sulking for no particular reason when he knocks on the door, hands her a giant chocolate chip cookie from craft services. "Peace offering," he says. 

Missy's surprised--he's usually kind of weirdly Method about that stuff, will take some space if their characters are pissed at one another. Last year after they shot that scene where Sam throws his hotdog in the trash like a chump Missy practically had to stand outside his trailer with a boom box to get him to be her friend again. She raises her eyebrows, skeptical (but she takes the cookie, she's not an idiot, those cookies are frigging delicious). "Are we fighting?"

Ben shrugs, shoots her one of those don't be an idiot, McNally looks of his. "You tell me."

METHOD ACTING: A+ FOREVER

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

And ugg, whatever, Missy is totally over Sam Swarek's passive aggressive bullshit. She wonders if Ben's actually like that--like, when he fights with his wife. His really young, really pretty, perfectly nice girl wife.

(Only okay, that sort of sounds like Missy's saying something. About that particular situation.

Whatever.)

"I'm not fighting with anyone," she announces, fanning her fingers out. "So." She stuffs the cookie into her mouth; conversation over, carry on with your day.

Ben doesn't carry on (of course, why would he, that would be too--). He shoves his hands in his pockets, feet planted like he's really not leaving her trailer anytime soon. "I don't know. Kinda feels like you're pissed at me."

METHOD ACTING WILL NEVER NOT BE HILARIOUS TO ME.

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

Missy frowns around her cookie. "It's called acting," she informs him, mouth full of chocolate. "You should try it sometime."

"Funny."

"I am funny," she says, and swallows.

Ben doesn't say anything to that--just stands there looking at her, caterpillar eyebrows slightly raised. He makes her do stupid staring contests with him all the time, eye contact until she one hundred percent can't take it one more millisecond, which is obnoxious because he knows she's hopeless at it. She's always the one who breaks first. "Why would I be pissed at you?" she asks finally, just to avoid cracking up or some other inappropriate fucking thing. "Did you do something douchey?"

Ben doesn't say anything to that, either. His hair's still a little damp from being outside, sticking to his forehead a bit. And that's--

"You look like Mister Rochester in your wedding picture," she blurts.

CANNOT. BE. UNSEEN.

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

His eyebrows are really working now. "Okay..." he starts, this grin he gets when he's confused, eyes all scrunched up. "Is that, ah. The douchey thing I did?"

(Yes.)

Missy swallows the last bit of cookie down, dry, so she doesn't say it. (Because if she did, Ben would probably pick up that it wasn't exactly just his outfit that has her all--) Only then her throat burns, which makes her eyes water, which generally just makes her feel like a loser. Which--whatever, apparently she's the jealous bitch who hates on wedding attire now, so. (Wedding attire she knows he didn't pick--and like, seriously, every girl has those Bronte-period dreams, but come on.)

"Well, you know," she says, shrugging a bit. "You did lock Bertha Mason in the attic." She gives him her half-empty packet of gushers so they can be made-up (so he'll leave).

Ben squints at her some more, like he's trying to puzzle something out, but eventually he goes.

Only then, because Missy's life is basically a German farce and karma hates her, someone bumps the Sam & Andy kiss-and-make-up scene way the fuck up the shooting schedule (there was supposed to be a car chase and this bit with Enuka girl-talking her by the lockers, but Enuka has a cold and apparently they don't have the proper permits to close down Dufferin, so).

Fantastic.

RIGHT? I'M SORRY BUT THAT GETUP WAS NOT AN INDICATION OF A WIFE WHO LOVES HIM.

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

They haven't rehearsed that scene at all since the table read, so Pete gives them fifteen minutes to run the lines before they block. "You ready?" Ben asks, right before the cameras roll, and there's something about the way he says it--like she's ever not ready, god, like she's ever anything but a total grownup about everything in her entire life--it's just irritating, okay? It gets under her skin.

"You ready?" she retorts.

We've been doing this for months and I don't actually know anything about you is the line, at which point he's supposed to, like, push her knees apart and get between them and--whatever. Show her what she needs to know, Missy guesses.

(She flubs it.

Twice.)

BASICALLY I'M SUSPICIOUS OF THIS ENTIRE MARRIAGE NOW.

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

Ben doesn't say anything though, so. Normally they'd joke through it, or he'd mock-yell at her, or--something that is not silence, basically. But, you know; Missy's a professional, he's a professional, they're all fucking professionals.

She jogs around the make-up tent before the next run-through.

It's a simple scene, really, so blocking shouldn't take much time as it does--they're in the station's fake rec room; all she has to do is sit on the table while he paces--but crap, it feels like lighting guys have him up between her legs for forever. His breath is warm against her face. It smells like the turkey sub he had for lunch (and they used to chew gum before kissing scenes; mints, whatever, but like. They just have to do it so often now).

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

"All right," Dave says, when they're ready (and if her chest feels kind of weird and tight, well, whatever, that was a brisk aerobic workout she just got, if she's going to be half naked on the television all the time she needs to stay in shape). "Want to take it from the kiss?"

Which.

Ben blinks and just like that he's Sam again, stance a little wider and that weird, hybrid half-accent. "McNally," he says, getting closer (and the his-nose-at-her-nose thing, that was all Ben, she didn't even realize he was doing it until her sister pointed it out. "Uh, why are you watching my kissing scenes that closely, weirdo?" Missy retorted snottily, but now she always kind of waits for it to happen).

And, yup. His mouth on her mouth. Here they go.

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

And see, this is why Missy hates method acting--it's an I'm sorry kiss (of course it is, that's the whole point of the scene) but it's also all this weird Swarek shit, like you're impossible and I love you and I'll show you that--and okay, all that would be fine normally, Missy just rides along, Andy's supposed to be a little emotionally retarded anyways, but like. Now she's having some line-blurring problems.

(Not that she thinks that Ben--that he feels-- Whatever.)

And, like, it's a nice kiss too, his hands all up in her hair, quiet tugging on her lip. Andy's not supposed to cry here, but. Missy's just really tired, is all, and a lot of things are happening, and it's just... easy (it's not always--normally she can't make herself).

Dave likes it though, so.

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

One of the sound guys is having trouble (one of their sound guys is actually a chick, which Missy appreciates) so she and Ben hang tight for another minute while they get it sorted out. She wants to make a joke or something, (God, she can't believe she cried, what even, probably the best acting she's done all season so far and it's possible she kind of, like, wasn't), but she can't actually think of anything not Jane Eyre related, and it just seems wise not to go down that particular road again.

And anyway Ben is just standing there, all serious; he's picking at the outside seam on her uniform pants, not even looking at her, and she doesn't know if he's trying to stay in character or what.

His eyelashes are, like. Stupidly long.

"Come on," she says finally, kicking at his ankle a little. "We just made up, remember?"

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

He lifts his head then (which--they're still basically on top of one another, so, you know: maybe not something Missy should have been aiming for). "Yep."

God, seriously, she just--she hates him sometimes. She's sitting here with her nose all snotty, feeling twenty kinds of stupid, and if he could just work with her for one fucking second-- "Fine, whatever. Let the scene lose it's authenticity. Be my guest."

Probably she should just go drown herself in the Don River, is pretty much what Missy's sensing right now.

"It's authenticity, huh?" He's still talking like Sam. "How about you explain it to me then: why's McNally crying?"

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

"Why's she--what?" Missy hisses, more sharply than she means to. "Because--"

(because.)

She doesn't know what he's asking, is the thing, if he actually wants to know what her motivation is here (which is possible, totally, he loves talking about stuff like that; way back when they first started working together he bought her a beer and asked her, point blank, what she thought Swarek's chances were) or if he wants to know, like.

Why she's crying.

Missy glances over at Dave for help, but he's still totally distracted by one of the boom mics, so. Finally she shrugs. "I don't know," she says vaguely, and god, the look on his face. "She's got a bunch of weird stuff in her brain she doesn't know what to do with. It, like. Freaks her out."

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

"Freaks her out." Ben's still touching up the seam of her pants. "Huh." Then: "What happened to the whole not scared, you're here, thing?"

Missy blinks. That's--well. Okay. Ok-ay. So, then, character motivation; character motivation is what they're talking about here. (It's just, that beer and way the fuck before they knew each other's lunch orders by heart: she thought he was maybe talking about himself. Just for, like, a second.

But then, you know. He wasn't. So.

So now he's not either. Whatever. Fuck, whatever, Missy is--)

"Probably they don't even remember saying that to each other," she grinds out. Only that's a lie, of course, no way Andy doesn't. (No way she--)

Fuck. Missy hates Method.

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

Ben thinks it's a lie, too, clearly, eyes going weirdly dark (and jesus, could he take a step back already, they're supposed to be taking a break). "Really?" he says--and yeah, he's definitely, like, pissed at her for even suggesting it. "You don't think?"

"What?" Missy shrugs, defensive. "You think I'm wrong?"

For a second Ben looks at her like he's never even seen her before, like he has no idea what he's supposed to be doing with her at all. "Yeah, MP," he says, so quiet. "I think you're wrong."

Well.

"Okay," she says (and god, god, there's really no reason for her to feel like she's about to burst into tears all over again, it's totally uncalled for, she really needs to get more sleep, start taking a vitamin or something. Maybe invest in a sun lamp). "Fine. Then...I'm wrong."

Ben sees, of course (ugh, he always sees), fingers curling around her thigh and mouth open to say something else, except here's Dave crossing the rec room, all smiles and ready to work. "Okay," he says. "Sorry about that. Go again whenever you're ready."

It is, um.

Not such a nice kiss this time.

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

And Missy doesn't cry, actually, she's so busy being professional and well-rested and not a basket case that she forgets she's actually supposed to. So of course Dave stops them ("Try," is what he says, "no pressure, it was just a nice touch," but, like. It's possible Missy doesn't have to try) and god, the rest of the shoot is just awful. Well, it's good, actually, it's emotional as fuck, but by the end Missy feels waterlogged and exhausted and makeup is having a hard time keeping her pretty.

There are no more breaks to talk to Ben in either, so.

(And it's just--it's really sucky having him tuck Andy's head into his neck and tell her they're going to be fine. Over and over again.)

"Ouch," Enuka says when she catches sight of Missy's face. She's sucking on a Halls, so it comes out all garbled. "They make you cry?"

"Nah, she added that herself," Ben murmurs, from, seriously, right-the-fuck behind her, and cripes, what is his deal?

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

Missy turns around to ask him, but he's already walking away, so.

(And like, seriously? Seriously.)

Enuka coughs twice, has this look on her face like what the hell happened with you people? Missy just shrugs. (Enuka has this impression of Ben that she'll only do after two margaritas, and sometimes she's Ben reciting Shakespearean soliloquies and sometimes she's Ben doing Leonardo DiCaprio's "I'm not an idiot, I know how the world works" speech from Titanic, and whatever, maybe you have to be there, but. Enuka hates Method, too, is the point).

She barges into his trailer without knocking; he's taking his uniform off, shoots her this look like do you mind? that also manages to be, like, completely unsurprised. And no, she doesn't mind, as a matter of fact: she's seen him a lot more naked than this a lot closer up, so. "What?" she demands, throwing her hands up. "You're mad at me now?"

DOES SHE EVER DO BEN'S PACEY IMPRESSION?

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

"I'm not mad at anyone," he says, tossing her own line back at her, and fuck, seriously, if there's anything Missy hates it's being quoted to herself. (She just--she wants to hit something, actually, really badly.

But then: there's a picture of his wife on the end table. Missy feels sick.)

"Terrific--that's just." Suddenly she doesn't want to fight anymore. She drops down onto the ratty old sofa, pulls her knees up under her chin. "That's just great."

Ben relaxes the set of his shoulders, comes over to sit on the armrest. Looks at her good and hard. "MP. What's going on?" Only it sounds kind of like--it sounds kind of like he maybe already knows.

PROBABLY SHE DOES IF THERE ARE SHOTS INVOLVED.

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

Which--shit, that's embarrassing, if he knows she's, like--

(oh god, do other people know? Does his wife know? Is it like, a thing they talk about at their stupid condo in LA?

And whatever, fine, Missy doesn't actually know if their condo is stupid, it could be very nice, but--)

"Nothing," she says--whines, really, she whines it, she sounds about seven years old (and there's an age joke there but she is not not not going to make it, not even to herself, so--). "God."

Ben keeps looking. "MP," he says, like he's waiting for something really specific--and he does, he knows, he totally knows. "I can't--you gotta talk to me."

"Can you stop?" she snaps, and she just--she hates him. "What do you want me to say? Seriously, Ben, there is absolutely nothing for me to say in this moment that's not going to make my entire life completely unbearable, so." She gets up, wipes her sweaty palms on her uniform pants. "Forget it. Sorry I cried."