[Disclaimer] This is pure fiction, written about real people.
[Pairing] Connie Britton & Chip Esten
[Note] This is for all y’all because you’re so adorable. Here’s to getting through a week with no new show & fingers crossed for some fun interaction at the award show tomorrow!
The air is cool and crisp, with the scent of autumn leaves on the edge of every breath they inhale. They’ve had a late shoot, but she’s feeling invigorated.
She’s been eying him all night. He showed up uncharacteristically late and she’s barely had a chance to talk to him until now.
“Let’s go out, y’all,” she pleads. She’s not ready to call it a night.
A few agree, enough to consider it an outing, and she turns to Chip. She raises an eyebrow in question and he shrugs in response.
“I guess I can come along for a drink or two,” he tells her.
They head to her favorite speakeasy across town where she buys a round of drinks for everyone. The room is loud, so they break into small groups in order to be able to hear the conversation. He listens as one of the writers starts telling a story about her kids, but his gaze is on Connie as she takes a pull of her beer.
Her mouth is curled around the rim of the bottle and all he can think of is the way her lips feel on his. It’s been too long since the last time they’ve filmed a kissing scene, but he could never forget the sensation. He shakes his head as if he’s trying to shake the image away before he turns back to his present company.
One by one the rest of the group leaves until Connie and Chip are sitting at a table by themselves. They nurse their beers, both worried that the other will go when the bottles are empty. Neither is ready to say goodnight.
“One more round?” he finally asks after he takes the last swig of beer.
The corner of her mouth turns up and she nods her head.
“Make mine a whiskey,” she tells him. The beer has given her a buzz and it seems like a good idea to kick it up a notch.
When he returns he sets a double whiskey down in front of her before taking a sip of his own. He’s staring at her mouth again, her perfect pout glossed in pink, as she leans in to speak to him. This time when he looks away from her lips it’s so that he can make eye contact with her.
“You sounded great tonight,” she says.
“It was nice to see Rayna in the crowd.”
Her hand finds his under the table as she says, “I know. I’ve missed having scenes with you this season.”
“I’ve missed you too, Connie.” He squeezes her hand, feeling the blood rush through the fingers that are laced in his.
She looks at him longer than she should. She wants to say something clever, she wants to tease him, but his hand is hot in hers and she can feel the warmth spreading through her. The urge to kiss him is building, but she knows she can’t do that. Not here, not in public. She shouldn’t do it at all. But God, she wants to and she feels like she might finally give in.
They haven’t finished their drinks, but it doesn’t matter.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
He doesn’t answer, but he drops her hand before getting up and pulling out her chair. She follows him out to his car.
“Are you okay to drive?” she asks him.
He peers at her in the seat next to him. “I’m not drunk.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear and waits for a beat, assessing how she feels. “I’m not either,” she whispers. The excuse isn’t there. They know full well what they’re doing, and they both want it.
It’s been a long time coming.
They were drawn to each other from the beginning, an undeniable chemistry budding between them from their first hello. He had seen her acting before, had fallen for her public personal before she had even heard of him. It was nothing compared to getting to know her. There doesn’t seem to be an end to the complexities of her, just when he thinks he knows her completely something new appears around the bend to draw him in even further.
They used the physical intimacy between their characters as an escape. It gave them the opportunity to touch, to kiss, when they had no other viable option. But now it’s been too long since they’ve had that chance. Their time together filming has been slim to non-existant until just recently. So they find excuses – Chip wants to lend Connie some tips on her performance scene; Connie has a new title which is why it’s reasonable for her to watch rehearsals. It’s not nearly enough.
Neither of them speaks in the car, each swearing they can hear the hum of tension swarming the short distance between them. Her breathing becomes shallow as she recalls the feel of his hands in her hips and his tongue brushing against hers. She squirms in the seat knowing that tonight they’ll finally be unrestrained, free from the constraints of watchful eyes. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about what it would be like, hadn’t played out different scenarios in her head as she touched herself and wished it was his long, large fingers instead of her own.
After he pulls the car into the driveway he turns toward her. For a few seconds neither of them moves, then her hand finds his neck and they draw as close as they can over the center console. He thought that it would be rushed and frantic, but their kisses are soft and drawn out. When she tilts her head to deepen the kiss he groans into her mouth.
She pulls back, her face inches away from his. His lips are red and they almost match the flush creeping from his cheeks to his throat.
She looks toward the house and then back at him, hoping that he hasn’t changed his mind. He nods, holding up an index finger.
“Hang on,” he tells her.
He’s out of the car and walking around to her side to open her door before she can make sense of what he’s doing. He helps her out of the car and keeps a hold of her hand as they walk through the door of the house, letting go only to wrap his arm around her waist.
As she runs her hands over his shoulders she wonders if any of their coworkers bet on whether they’d go home together that night. Either way, she’s the one getting lucky.