Couple of fics
Jul. 22nd, 2007 12:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cmk418These are a couple of scene-interpretation fics I wrote outside of my usual fandoms that I felt like posting here. The first is for "L.A. Confidential" and the second is for "Ocean's 11".
----------------------------
Centered around the last Scene of "L.A. Confidential"
Ed/Bud alternating POV's (2nd person)
The dialogue belongs to Brian Helgeland & Curtis Hanson, who IMO made the gayest straight film ever.
You’re not sure if he’ll make it, not sure how you wound up inside his hospital room, arm half-aching from your wound as the adrenaline and painkillers wear off. You’ve never seen him so still, this man whose blood is always up. It’s almost unnatural to see him this way. Still, you stay, and it’s because of the obligation you feel toward White – not as cops, exactly, but not as friends either. It’s something else, something that’s been there from the beginning.
>>>>>>>>>>
You’re in the car. Somehow Lynn knows, even with you unable to say anything, that you want to make the stop. Will he see you? Lynn said he’d been there at the hospital that first night, but it’s been weeks and he hasn’t come around. Your cop instincts tell you that he can’t stand to see you like this, that you’re no longer the man he remembers. And that’s true. You’ve realized some things in the past few weeks, one of them being how your feelings about Exley have changed.
And then he’s here, tapping on the window with a soft “Hey.”
>>>>>>>>>>
He looks like shit, but the tact that’s gotten you this far prevents you from saying anything to that effect. Even without his voice, he’s the same old Bud, visually comparing your wounds with a look as if to say that his are the more impressive. He looks like he wants to say something more and it pains you that he can’t.
You smile at him and say the first thing that comes to your mind.
“Thanks for the push.”
>>>>>>>>>>
You know he means not just the physical action, but also the job. Ed has changed. He’s no longer the by-the-book bureaucrat that you first met. He’s operating more like a cop now. You’d like to think you’d had something to do with that. You wish he could read what was in your mind, you try to put it all into your eyes, your half-smile that’s there to comfort him, as he looks at the trainwreck your body has become. You open your mouth to speak and cannot. So you do the next best thing, you put your hand up.
And feel the relief surge through your body as he takes it.
>>>>>>>>>>
This feels so good, so right. You can see it reflected in Bud’s eyes. Finally, after all this time, contact. Not as part of the job, and not in anger either. It’s what you’ve been waiting for all this time. You meet his eyes. He appears as swept up in the sensation as you are. Neither of you wants to let go. Another time, another life, and maybe...
“Yeah.” The word falls from your lips and you know you echo his thoughts.
>>>>>>>>>>
He lets go of your hand, talks to Lynn for a moment, then stands next to your window as the car starts to pull away. You turn to look at him, give him a small half-wave that lets him know that you’re going to be okay. It kills you to leave, but you also have the feeling that this thing between you is not finished.
Ed doesn’t turn away, stands watching you as the car turns the corner. You close your eyes against the tears, the life you have known vanishing behind you with each passing minute.
>>>>>>>>>>
You stand frozen on the sidewalk. It hits you. After all this time, the Nite Owl case is finally closed. Feelings of depression and loneliness threaten to overcome you, but then you remember that this is Los Angeles. There will always be another investigation.
And sometime, in the not-so-distant future, Officer Wendell White will be back to remind you exactly what being a cop is all about.
It’s that thought that allows you to go back into the precinct and start your shift.
----------------------
"Ocean's Eleven" - when Rusty sees Danny the first time
Danny/Rusty (Rusty's POV)
The dialogue belongs to Ted Griffin (and special consideration goes to Steven Soderbergh for those extra-long reaction shots that make this scene especially slashy)
The class is only an hour and the waitresses poke their heads into the back room fairly regularly, but I need to get out of there, so I take my drink into the bar for a refill. The thumpa-thumpa of the music assaults my senses, but somehow it is easier on my ears than listening to the collective stupidity spewing in the back room.
I wouldn’t even think of doing this except for the hotel. It’s always been a dream of mine to own one. Probably comes from watching how Ruben lives. And Hollywood needs another place for celebrities to play. This poker class seemed like the easiest way to make the right connections.
But, man, are they challenged.
I really don’t want to leave the bar, but I do feel some responsibility to the kids. The noise seems to dissipate as I move through the door. I walk down the hallway and as I get closer to the playing area, I hear it. That low rumbling voice that I’ve only heard in telephone conversations for the past couple of years. I think my mind is playing tricks on me, that there’s something stronger in this drink than what I ordered, but when I push past the curtain, he’s there.
Danny Ocean. Talking to Topher about making the crossover into film. The years disappear and I’m frozen in place.
Topher notices me and says, “Hey, Russ, we got another player if that’s cool with you.”
Danny looks up at the mention of my name and I forget, just for an instant, how to breathe. I blink and remember the first lesson of poker, one that we both had been taught – leave emotion at the door – and nod my assent.
I sit down at the table, facing my best friend, and I’m confident that this will be the last poker lesson I’ll ever have to teach.
------------------------
We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
----------------------------
Centered around the last Scene of "L.A. Confidential"
Ed/Bud alternating POV's (2nd person)
The dialogue belongs to Brian Helgeland & Curtis Hanson, who IMO made the gayest straight film ever.
You’re not sure if he’ll make it, not sure how you wound up inside his hospital room, arm half-aching from your wound as the adrenaline and painkillers wear off. You’ve never seen him so still, this man whose blood is always up. It’s almost unnatural to see him this way. Still, you stay, and it’s because of the obligation you feel toward White – not as cops, exactly, but not as friends either. It’s something else, something that’s been there from the beginning.
>>>>>>>>>>
You’re in the car. Somehow Lynn knows, even with you unable to say anything, that you want to make the stop. Will he see you? Lynn said he’d been there at the hospital that first night, but it’s been weeks and he hasn’t come around. Your cop instincts tell you that he can’t stand to see you like this, that you’re no longer the man he remembers. And that’s true. You’ve realized some things in the past few weeks, one of them being how your feelings about Exley have changed.
And then he’s here, tapping on the window with a soft “Hey.”
>>>>>>>>>>
He looks like shit, but the tact that’s gotten you this far prevents you from saying anything to that effect. Even without his voice, he’s the same old Bud, visually comparing your wounds with a look as if to say that his are the more impressive. He looks like he wants to say something more and it pains you that he can’t.
You smile at him and say the first thing that comes to your mind.
“Thanks for the push.”
>>>>>>>>>>
You know he means not just the physical action, but also the job. Ed has changed. He’s no longer the by-the-book bureaucrat that you first met. He’s operating more like a cop now. You’d like to think you’d had something to do with that. You wish he could read what was in your mind, you try to put it all into your eyes, your half-smile that’s there to comfort him, as he looks at the trainwreck your body has become. You open your mouth to speak and cannot. So you do the next best thing, you put your hand up.
And feel the relief surge through your body as he takes it.
>>>>>>>>>>
This feels so good, so right. You can see it reflected in Bud’s eyes. Finally, after all this time, contact. Not as part of the job, and not in anger either. It’s what you’ve been waiting for all this time. You meet his eyes. He appears as swept up in the sensation as you are. Neither of you wants to let go. Another time, another life, and maybe...
“Yeah.” The word falls from your lips and you know you echo his thoughts.
>>>>>>>>>>
He lets go of your hand, talks to Lynn for a moment, then stands next to your window as the car starts to pull away. You turn to look at him, give him a small half-wave that lets him know that you’re going to be okay. It kills you to leave, but you also have the feeling that this thing between you is not finished.
Ed doesn’t turn away, stands watching you as the car turns the corner. You close your eyes against the tears, the life you have known vanishing behind you with each passing minute.
>>>>>>>>>>
You stand frozen on the sidewalk. It hits you. After all this time, the Nite Owl case is finally closed. Feelings of depression and loneliness threaten to overcome you, but then you remember that this is Los Angeles. There will always be another investigation.
And sometime, in the not-so-distant future, Officer Wendell White will be back to remind you exactly what being a cop is all about.
It’s that thought that allows you to go back into the precinct and start your shift.
----------------------
"Ocean's Eleven" - when Rusty sees Danny the first time
Danny/Rusty (Rusty's POV)
The dialogue belongs to Ted Griffin (and special consideration goes to Steven Soderbergh for those extra-long reaction shots that make this scene especially slashy)
The class is only an hour and the waitresses poke their heads into the back room fairly regularly, but I need to get out of there, so I take my drink into the bar for a refill. The thumpa-thumpa of the music assaults my senses, but somehow it is easier on my ears than listening to the collective stupidity spewing in the back room.
I wouldn’t even think of doing this except for the hotel. It’s always been a dream of mine to own one. Probably comes from watching how Ruben lives. And Hollywood needs another place for celebrities to play. This poker class seemed like the easiest way to make the right connections.
But, man, are they challenged.
I really don’t want to leave the bar, but I do feel some responsibility to the kids. The noise seems to dissipate as I move through the door. I walk down the hallway and as I get closer to the playing area, I hear it. That low rumbling voice that I’ve only heard in telephone conversations for the past couple of years. I think my mind is playing tricks on me, that there’s something stronger in this drink than what I ordered, but when I push past the curtain, he’s there.
Danny Ocean. Talking to Topher about making the crossover into film. The years disappear and I’m frozen in place.
Topher notices me and says, “Hey, Russ, we got another player if that’s cool with you.”
Danny looks up at the mention of my name and I forget, just for an instant, how to breathe. I blink and remember the first lesson of poker, one that we both had been taught – leave emotion at the door – and nod my assent.
I sit down at the table, facing my best friend, and I’m confident that this will be the last poker lesson I’ll ever have to teach.
------------------------
We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
