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]

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."

WHOOPS, SORRY THIS ONE GOT SO STUPIDLY LONG.

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

And Ben's just wearing this face--this stupid awful face like he's sorry or something, and Missy can't, okay. She really can't.

(If it's pity, she legitimately might have to kill herself.)

This time when she walks out, he doesn't follow.

*

The next day, Missy's pretty sure she's caught Enuka's cold (staying up half the night playing a really dirty version of Apples to Apples with Greg as a last ditch attempt at distraction probably didn't help), so she spends the morning in sweats, watching some French documentary on Enuka's laptop. (Well, "French documentary" is kind of misleading, actually: there are no words and it's all about babies. Enuka claims no sane human being can watch ninety minutes of babies rolling around and still be in a funk.

Turns out Missy can.)

Halfway through Ben comes in and asks if he can "borrow MP" and Enuka effing leaves her there, the traitor. Missy tugs her hood up because she doesn't have sunglasses, and it's the only other nonverbal 'fuck off' sign she can think of.

Ben does not fuck off. "They want to film the kiss from a different angle."

Missy sighs in relief, because that's an easy one. "Can't. Sick."

Ben rolls his eyes (and he's--no, he's definitely smiling a little. Missy pulls her hood closer). "Like that's any more difficult to navigate than you crying." Then he's cupping her ears and titling her head and what the ever-loving fuck? He kisses her carefully, mindful of her runny nose. Missy can't hear anything through the cotton and the pounding of her own heart.

"See," Ben says. "Easy."

THIS IS ME, REALLY NOT MINDING.

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

Missy blinks. "What's that?" she asks, trying to keep her voice steady. Her fist opens and closes on the nubbly arm of the couch, a little spastic; she's still got the computer in her lap. "Like, rehearsal?"

"Yup," Ben says, and does it again. He's got his hand inside her hood, now, fingers up in her hair and one thumb stroking at the corner of her jaw. It's a Swarek kiss, sort of demanding, tongue and the faintest graze of teeth.

"O-okay?" It's like, kind of gross actually, how snotty she is, but Ben--yeah. Doesn't seem to care. "I'm gonna get you sick," she says, trying to warn him. He's got one hand braced on the back of the sofa; Missy smells coffee and his soap.

Ben nods, pushes the laptop shut. "Probably," he agrees.

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

Then he's leaning in again, knees into her knees, and Missy just sort of...drops the thing on the floor (it's an Apple product--it should be fine, right?), and the weirdest part is, Ben doesn't even stop at the thump.

Ben just. doesn't. stop.

Three kisses later, and Missy is pretty sure they're making out. It's not--she's just so sick, is the thing, she can feel the fever at the back of her throat, no way is he not getting this cold. She can't even move her head much, how stuffed up she is, so mostly it's just Ben licking into her mouth, slow and careful.

(It, uh. Doesn't real feel like Swarek anymore.)

"Okay, um." She turns her face into his jaw. She is, good and seriously, just too sick to deal with this. "That's like. Way too much kissing footage."

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

Ben blinks at her once, that baffled Jane Eyre look from yesterday. Then he pulls her hood back off her face. "MP," he says quietly, one hand cupping her skull through the fabric so she has to look at him. "Are you--did you think I was actually trying to rehearse with you just now?"

And--

"No," she blurts immediately, then: "I mean. Unless that's what you were doing? In which case, definitely, yes, I was as well?"

Ben snorts and smiles at her a little, fist tightening at the back of her head. It's possible she's tilting her chin back up just the slightest bit (and ugh, yuck, she can feel the snot, like. In her throat) when one of the PAs raps on the door of the trailer, neat and efficient. "Dave, uh. Wants to know if you guys are ready?"

Ben jumps back fast enough to dodge a bullet, strides past the kid onto the lot. "McNally needs a cough drop," he calls over his shoulder, which is the last unscripted thing she hears out of him all night.

Two mornings later he comes in sick as a dog, though. So.

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

And Missy, well--she keeps wondering if it was, like, a pity make out or something (although: is that even a thing? could she ask Charlotte?) but then there was the way he was all unnecessarily touchy in the Penny scene yesterday, hand in her belt loops where the camera couldn't even see, and well.

Well.

"What the hell is that?" Ben croaks from the couch. He's got the little portable AC in his trailer cranked, never mind the fact that he's wearing a hoodie (and seriously, a round of colds in the middle of August, they've got to be the most immunodeficient cast ever).

"Soup," Missy says. Which is not strictly true--it's instant NoName chicken noodle, but like. He won't drink tea.

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

"That's not soup," he says, but he smiles at her a little when he takes it, and once she's settled on the couch beside him he hands it back so she can have a sip. He's got one arm up along the top of the cushions, flipping channels: reruns and news, mostly, an episode of Teen Mom she's too embarrassed to tell him she sort of wants to watch. They're shooting nights this week, which normally Missy finds weirdly fun and exciting, although right now she feels a little like maybe she's going to collapse and die.

"Travis has it now," she reports, sniffling a little. Her nose is so raw it hurts to blow. "You realize we're all just going to keep passing this stupid cold back and forth until the end of time."

"Probably," Ben says, around a yawn. He tucks the mug between his knees and scrubs a hand over his eyes like he's trying without much success to pull it together; then, tugging once on her ponytail: "You feel any better?"

Missy sighs, leans into his touch a little bit without actually meaning to--it's just, her head hurts, is all. Her head hurts, like. A lot."No."

"No," he repeats slowly, eyes on the TV like there's something really interesting happening there (which there isn't; it's a commercial for one of those mattress warehouses off the highway) and it's just--suddenly Missy thinks there's a possibility they're not talking about the cold anymore. Ben's still holding on to her hair. "Me either."

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

Which; Missy considers making a joke--like, thank god it's not the flu, imagine the state of the porta-potties--but um. The way this conversation is going, probably flu wouldn't mean flu. So.

"Drink your soup." It seems like the safest thing to say.

Ben smiles at her quietly, more eyes than mouth. "Oh yeah? That supposed to help me?" His fingers are threading through the base of her ponytail now, under the elastic.

Missy closes her eyes. (And god, it's going to mess up her hair, it's going to mess up her hair so bad, but like. It feels-- Possibly she wants to take a nap with him a bit, just like this. They could keep their hoodies on.)

"Well, you know." She shrugs. "Enuka tried to fix me with babies and this awful fusion tea." She peeks at him through her eyelids. "And I got you sick." She doesn't know if she's talking about the cold or not.

"Huh," Ben says "Yeah, no, I can definitely see how you arrived at artificial flavouring as the next obvious solution." He looks at her for a second, fingers still rubbing carefully at the back of her scalp. "You did get me sick." Quiet, like he's maybe remembering the specifics of how that happened, and um.

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

"That feels nice," she murmurs as the heel of his hand slides down to her neck, pressing gently. Goosebumps spring up all across her arms (it's cold in here, okay? It is cold in here). "Don't stop."

Ben exhales softly--a sigh or otherwise he's just congested, Missy doesn't know. He stopped on Teen Mom anyway, she realizes, like maybe he read her stupid mind. "Not stopping," he says.

So. Not stopping, then.

Okay.

She's honestly not sure which one of them is getting closer or if maybe they both are, sort of, but suddenly his shoulder is like-- right there, and. He's super, super warm through the sweatshirt. "Do you still have a fever?" she asks, and when she reaches a hand up to his face to check and sees how he's looking at her--well.

It's possible she kisses him by mistake.