Open Road

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on April 7, 2014 by roxy206

[Disclaimer] This is pure fiction, about real people

[Pairing] Connie Britton & Chip Esten

[Note] For my PPs – Thank you for everything! You are sublime.


The temperature is colder than normal for spring, but the sun is shining down, warming the interior of the car. Connie adjusts her aviators as she leans her head back against the headrest. A song plays softly and Chip hums along, providing the soundtrack for their out of state drive. They had made the arrangements quietly when the announcement had been made that they would be filming on a base an hour away. Since it was so close there was no need for an overnight stay, or for any family members to tag along for filming. He had explained the latter part when asked before dropping the subject.

It’s been a while since they’ve had the opportunity to be alone. For a while, she had been feeling like he was purposefully avoiding her, finding excuses to stay away. She knew that things were complicated, so she told herself not to push him. As a side effect, she had drawn into herself even more than usual. She begged off of social outings, unsure if she’d be able to enjoy herself while she was still thinking of Chip.

Now they’re sitting inches away from each other with no way of being interrupted. He peers over at her, wishing there wasn’t a center console between them. When he had picked her up at her house, she had leaned into him as she hugged him, holding him for several beats before thinking of letting him go. He reaches down and traces the inside of her arm which is resting between their seats. Uncurling her fingers, she leaves her hand open until his hand finds hers. Their fingers lace together and he squeezes gently.

She’s needed this. She’s needed to be in his presence, to know that his attention is solely on her. His touch is reassuring and she feels like she could melt into her seat, not a care in the world.

It’s a change from the way she’s been feeling, like all of the stability she had build was about to tumble down. She hadn’t realized how much of it had been based on him, she had never meant for so much of it to be based on him. Chip had become her support system in a variety of ways. He was the one to push her out of her comfort zone and at the same time was her safety net. With him, she knew that he would be there.

They really hadn’t intended to have an affair. They had both thought about it, of course. It was impossible not to when their mouths and hands were all over each other in the course of filming. Their physical chemistry was evident to everyone and it was essential to their work. What wasn’t essential, she knew from experience, was their particular bond. She had worked with other actors, all with whom she had chemistry and a successful working relationship, and it was nothing like working with Chip. She had never gotten butterflies in her stomach before when a costar looked at her, not during a scene and certainly not outside of filming. This was something else, she felt it deeply.

When the reality of what they had done sunk in, it was too much for him to handle. He retreated from Connie, not wanting to, but not knowing what else to do. It wasn’t right of him and if there was anything he could change it would be that. He wished that he had confronted everything instead of trying to brush it away. There was no way to hide his feelings for her, no way to ignore the shift between them or how it was to be with her.

A resurgence of scenes together put them back in each other’s days when they needed it most. It was surprisingly easy to pick things up right where they had left them.

Part of her wants to glaze over what happened. He’s back and she wants to focus on that. But part of her worries that it could happen again in an instant. She knows that ultimately they need to address this head on.

They pass under a bridge, shadow covering the car until they come out on the other side.

“Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” Connie asks him.

The first response that pops in his head is that it’s only been a day since he last saw her, but he holds his tongue. It’s not the time for humor. He had missed her to, he wants to say, and he will but now’s not the time for that either.

“I’m sorry, Connie.”

“You can’t do that again, okay?” It comes out as a whisper, which impacts him more than if she had yelled it. “I need you to tell me what’s going on, what you’re feeling, okay?”

He puts his directional on and pulls over to the side of the road. She turns toward him, a questioning look on her face. Taking his belt off, he leans across and cups her cheek in his hand. “Okay,” he tells her. “I will not do that to you again. I wish I never had to begin with. I’m in this with you, we’re in this together.”

She touches his chin, tracing the stubble just under his lip. “Together,” she repeats. She slips her hand behind his neck, pulling him closer.

“Together,” he agrees. He moves toward her mouth, all heat and desire, to show her how much he means it. He draws her lower lip in between his, grazing it with his teeth. Her response is slow and deliberate, the way she wants to take things from here on out. She doesn’t want them to be rushed, a moment snuck here and there. Running her tongue along his, she makes a small noise of contentment. She wants to take the time to enjoy him, knowing that they have an infinite amount of time ahead of them.

She kisses down to his jaw, moving along toward his ear before sitting back.

“We have a call time, you know. We really do need to get to the base,” she tells him.

“You’re trying to ruin my fun here.” He groans when he feels her squeeze his thigh.

“Maybe the car will break down on the way back. There’s no telling how long it will take to get a tow truck on the side of a dark country road…”

“I like the way you think, Con, I like the way you think.”

As he enters back onto the road, he thinks to himself how glad he is for second chances and how grateful he is for her. He’s not going to fuck it up again this time.

Days Like This

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on March 7, 2014 by roxy206

[Disclaimer] This is pure fiction, written about real people.

[Pairing] Connie Britton & Chip Esten

[Note] I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It wouldn’t go away, so I had to…
A one shot.


The room is silent; a stark contrast to the sounds of filming that had assaulted her for the majority of the day. She sinks back into a pillow, the top of her head resting against the headboard of her bed. Next to her the display of her phone flashes. She doesn’t need to look to know that it’s not a message she wants to read. Pulling a blanket around herself, she focuses on her breathing.

It was stupid of her to mention anything. She was feeling sorry for herself and without thinking made a comment which brought on the sweet, but unwanted attention of her friends. During every break she had on set that day there were notifications of texts and emails, inquiries into her feelings and declarations that she was going to be fine. She was glad that she only had to run through the explanation once, knowing that the information would be passed along to the rest of the group.

In the intervening years since her parents have passed, the markers of time have become increasingly more difficult. Each anniversary, holiday, and birthday is a reminder of both life and death, a reminder to cherish the people who are in her life, a reminder of those who are no longer with her in the same way. This year, she’s found herself in a rut.

She thinks back on this time last year, when things were complicated in a much different manner that now. She had readily accepted that she had feelings for her married costar. She had allowed herself to encourage the bond that she had with him. She found herself hurtling head over heels deeper into an emotional affair which was certainly not one sided.

And now a year later all of the process that had been made has come to a grinding halt. For the past several weeks, Chip has been radio silent on anything not directly involving work. She’s not sure what happened, although she can venture a guess. If anything, she wishes that he would have the decency to answer her when she’s asked him what gives.

They had gotten too close, she knows. They had given in to temptation and then some, the affair crossing over from just emotional to include physical. It had been inevitable, only a question of when it would finally happen. And once it had happened, she thought that there would be no going back. But suddenly he was being cordial; he was keeping his hands to himself. Even worse, he was keeping his words to himself. Before, she couldn’t remember the last time she had gone more than twenty four hours without talking to him.

Work has been forcing them to interact more, forcing them to face each other and the blur between their own lives and the characters. The increase of time spent together is like picking at an open wound, yet at the same time she craves it. No matter how much it may hurt to see him, she knows deep down that it’s better than the alternative of not seeing him at all.

On the eve of her birthday, she found herself mulling over everything. Her parents’ absence, one too many times missing reading a bedtime story and tucking her son into bed, Chip’s withdrawal: It was all weighing down on her at the same time.

/ /

The clock ticks as the hands move from eleven fifty nine to midnight, and her phone lights up again. This time she grabs it to scroll through the conversations. Finding the one with his name at the top, she opens it.

It reads, “Happy birthday. I love you.”

A tear streams down her face, curving and pooling at the corner of her upturned mouth. She hadn’t known what, if anything, to expect from him. This goes beyond anything she had realistically allowed herself to consider.

She doesn’t trust herself to call him: She doesn’t trust her voice; she doesn’t know if she can handle her call going to voicemail if he’s not free to talk. So she sends him a text back, happy that the lines of communication are open again.

“I love you, too.”

While she’s unsure what exactly this means for them, she knows that things are looking up. Tucking the blanket under her feet, she curls up and falls asleep as soon as she closes her eyes.


[Note] I’m currently working on something else which I promise will be much happier!


Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on February 9, 2014 by roxy206

[Disclaimer] This is pure fiction, written about real people.

[Pairing] Connie Britton & Chip Esten

[Note] Just a quickie… Ahem… I was informed I had to call it a quickie instead of a one shot ;-) This is for you, W!

Also, there’s a petition to show support for a third season of Nashville. If you haven’t already signed, please do! And share it with your fan friends too. Another season means more Bristen!


The house is quiet, everyone gone except for him and the dog. Normally he would have been asleep by now, but he’s waiting to hear from her. Earlier she had texted him before heading out to a bar. He knows that she can take care of herself, he knows that she’s with a friend, but he can’t help wanting to check in on her. He also wants to know he’s the last one that she talked to at the end of the night, he can’t help that either.

He’s scrolling through her previous texts when a new one comes in.
Connie: back at the hotel now

Chip: Have you taken your pants off already?

Connie: what are you implying?

Chip: That you always take your pants off when you’re drunk!

Chip: Every time.

Connie: maybe.

Chip: Connie…

Connie: yesss, I took my pants off. Do you want to know what else I took off?

Chip: Tell me

Connie: I want you to guess

Chip: You’re naked

Connie: that’s not a guess, that’s wishful thinking

Connie: besides I know how much you like watching me slip my hand down my underwear

Chip: You’re very right

Chip: Underwear and…

Connie: and your gray tshirt

Chip: I should have known it was you when it went missing

Connie: it still smells like you, almost like you’re here

Chip: I wish I was there

Connie: me too

Connie: this bed is so empty without you

Chip: You know I would be there if I could

Connie: pretend you are

Connie: are you alone?

Chip: Yes

Immediately after he sends the text, her call comes in.

“Hi,” he answers.

“Mm, hi,” she says.

She sounds warm, he thinks, like too many shots of whiskey and heavy blankets. He would give anything right now to be in that hotel with her, holding her close instead of holding the phone to his ear.

“I needed to hear your voice,” she tells him. “I need you, Chip.”

Their schedules haven’t been in sync recently, their paths crossing at the most inopportune times without any chance of being alone. It shows when they’re together, both of them barely restraining themselves from touching the other. Neither of them trusts that they would be able to control their actions.

Settling back on the couch, he sighs. “I need you, too.”

He hears rustling in the background and then the sound of her breathing. As if her description of what she was – and wasn’t – wearing hadn’t been enough to arouse him, now she has his full attention.

“Connie.” He’s sure she can hear the creak of the couch as he shifts his weight. “Are you…?”

“Mhm. You are too, aren’t you?”

Her voice is low and sultry. He responds with a groan, which is all he can manage at the moment. Everything about her is sexy: Her voice, the way she speaks, the way she acts. She carries herself with a sense of confidence that most women would kill for. She knows who she is, she likes who she is, and she makes no apologies for doing what she wants.

And she wants him.

/ /

They stay on the phone afterwards, filling each other in on things that have happened while they’ve been filming separately and her trip. He feels a flash of jealousy when she mentions some guy who bought her a drink, but it passes quickly when she goes on about how her friend helped her deflect the unwanted attention.

“I still wish you were here, you know,” she tells him.

“You’re never satisfied, are you?” He laughs.

“I think you know I’m often satisfied, thanks to you. I’ve just got a… healthy appetite.”

“Oh, you sure do.”

“Like you don’t, Mister.”

“I never said that.”

“Well good. Next time let’s please do this in person.” She can’t keep the edge of desire out of her voice when she says it.

“We can arrange that.”

He doesn’t want to hang up, but sleep is pressing heavily on his eyelids. He wants to be able to kiss her goodnight and feel her hair against his ear as she tucks her head into the crook of his neck. For now, he settles for listening to her yawn and say goodnight.

When he falls asleep in his bed, it’s with thoughts of her running through his mind.

Starry Eyed – Part Two

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on February 2, 2014 by roxy206

[Disclaimer] This is pure fiction, written about real people.

[Pairing] Connie Britton & Chip Esten

[Note] L & D – Tit for tat! I’ve got a third part of this to write & I’m hoping to see that story of yours soon. And L, you’re going to kick butt on Tuesday!


As she walks away she has to stop herself from looking back at Chip. She knows that if she does, she’ll walk right back to him and pick up where they left off. This is the only shred of self-control that she has and she can’t let go of it.

Picking up her pace, she walks through the door back into the room to find her clutch. As she says her goodbyes everyone asks why she’s leaving early. She lies, saying that her nanny called to tell her that her son isn’t feeling well. She needs to get home.

In the car, she states out the window as the city moves by her.

She can feel how much she wants him with every breath she takes. It feels like her nerves are tingling and the only thing that can calm them is his touch. She remembers the way his hands traveled down her body during a scene months and months ago, the way her muscles began to flutter and clench even with everyone around on set. She’s tried to forget, she’s tried to fight it, but in the end she just wants to give in.

Now there are too many thoughts swarming through her mind. She recalls all the reasons why this can’t happen, the reasons why she extracted herself from the situation. And at the same time, the list of all the reasons it should happen seems to be growing.

When she got up from the bench she could sense his disappointment. Any lingering doubt that he wasn’t just as interested has gone out the door. She fumbles for her clutch, retrieving her cell phone so that she can call him. When she unlocks the screen she sees that he’s beaten her to the punch – three missed calls.

/ /

As he watches her head back inside, Chip decides to remain on the bench for a few minutes before following her back in. He shifts in his seat, his wrist brushing against the cool metal arm. His skin is still flush, the air is still heavy with the moment that just slipped by.

There’s a catalogue of these moments in his mind. Moments where he tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and his fingers linger, or she puts her hand on his chest while they’re laughing. Moments where their eyes lock and one of them has to look away, because otherwise…

It was different tonight. Neither of them looked away.

It was for the best that someone had interrupted them. They were too exposed out there in the open, where if someone had walked by a minute later they might have been too far gone to hear the warning footsteps.

He walks back into the party, scanning the crowd for her. He spots Joy and walks up to her to ask if she’s seen Connie.

“Oh, she left. I figured she would have told you. She was in a rush though.”

Waving goodbye, he reaches for his phone with his other hand. The call rolls to voicemail as he reaches the parking lot.

/ /

When she calls him, he picks up on the first ring.

“Connie, I’ve been calling you.” He sounds concerned and she can feel her heart in her throat.

“I know. I’m sorry. My phone was still on silent.”

“Why did you leave?” he asks.

“I thought it would be best, but,” she hesitates. Screw it, she thinks. “Will you meet me at my place?”

“Yeah. I’m leavin’ now. See you soon.”

The call disconnects and she feels a mixture of excitement and nerves. Before, their near encounters were by chance. This is different. This time they both know that the stakes are high. They’re both willing to play because the reward is even higher.

Starry Eyed – Part One

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on January 19, 2014 by roxy206

[Disclaimer] This is pure fiction, written about real people.

[Pairing] Connie Britton & Chip Esten

[Note] I had intended for this to be a one shot, but it’s not. Against my better judgment. I swear, one of these days I will finish one of these Bristen multi-part stories! / / Thank you to all of you who have asked when there would be a new story, nudged me, tap-tap-tapped at me to get writing. This is for you!


“You miss me, admit it.”

Connie has the phone pressed to her ear and she wraps her finger around the charger cord the way she used to when her phone was a landmine with a cord leashing her to one place. That’s what it feels like when she talks to him on the phone, like she’s gone back to a time when things were simpler: when she wasn’t constantly running from one place to another; when having feelings for someone wasn’t so complicated.

He laughs on the other line and she can picture him shaking his head as he does. “I don’t know, Connie, things have been pretty quiet with you in a different state. It’s kind of nice.”

“Well, in that case I guess I’ll hang up now.” She can’t help the playful note in her voice as she says it.

“Don’t you dare,” he tells her. “You know I miss you.”

“That’s more like it. I miss you too.”

There was some room in her schedule, so she took the opportunity to head back to LA for a few days. She had some things to take care of and, truth be told, she was trying to put some distance between herself and Chip. They were too close and it would be all too easy for something to happen. When she left, she told herself that she wouldn’t talk to him until she was back in Tennessee. Her resolve faded after two unanswered text messages and an emailed picture of his dog waving a paw.

She’d been trying to ignore the progression from flirting to crush to real, deep feelings. He’s on her mind more than she wants him to be and trying to force the thoughts of him out of her mind has the opposite effect. She slips in interviews when she’s asked about Rayna and Deacon, saying that he’s on her mind and talking about “our lives” instead of their lives. She wishes that Rayna and Deacon would get their shit together already, as if that would help somehow.

Their conversation wanders aimlessly from one topic to another. It doesn’t matter what they’re talking about, just as long as they’re talking to each other. They let their words die down, a comfortable silence creeping in. Connie lets her eyes close, leaning back and wishing that she hadn’t left Nashville, wishing that she could suggest they meet up for a drink.

Chip is the one to break the silence.

“Hey, I’ve got to get going. I’ve got a scene to film.”

“I should get going too actually.”

“Hurry up and come back to Nashville, alright?”

Her breath catches and she silently curses herself. “I will. Bye, Chip.”

“Bye, Connie.”

She ends the call, tossing the phone next to her.


/ /

Her first day back to set is an early call. As soon as she’s in the door she dashes over to craft services to fill a mug to the brim with coffee. She doesn’t sit, trying to will away the fatigue. Time zone changes are always a bitch and it’s only been six hours since her flight landed.

The small table she plopped her purse on is in sight of the entrance. As soon as he walks in they catch each other’s glance. He’s a sight for sore eyes, striding through the door in jeans and a flannel – her favorite look on him, which she recalls mentioning once. He makes his way to craft services before saddling up next to her at the table.

With the hand not curled around her mug she touches his arm as she says good morning. He picks at his breakfast as he tells her a story about Blue, gesturing slightly with his hand as he does. His arm bumps into hers and he piece of bacon in his hand drops into her coffee, splashing the rim.

Putting the cup down, she shakes her head, holding back a laugh. “I guess that’s a sign I’ve had enough caffeine this morning.”

They don’t notice everyone else around them, but everyone else can’t help but notice them.

/ /

Her phone has been glued to her hand since she left the house to get ready for the CMAs with Joy. Her friend has watched as she reads each text, a smile plastered to her face, but she holds her tongue. She knows better than to ask.

It’s still in her hand, the text conversation open, as they sit in their seats. She spots Patty alone moving into a seat. Clearing her throat, she straightens up in her seat and glances around the aisle in front of her. She feels a hand on her shoulder and relaxes.

At first Joy participates in the conversation, but soon enough she bows out leaving the two of them to it. They’re animated, laughs falling out of their mouths every few seconds. It’s not until the lights dim right before the show that Chip finally makes his way over to his own seat.

As soon as he sits down, Connie’s phone vibrates to indicate a new text.

He’s at her side throughout the show during as many breaks as possible, clamoring over to her seat at every chance. They prolong their time backstage both before and after presenting, their hands lingering here and there. He can’t stop himself from reaching out to her: to make sure that she doesn’t teeter on her heels or get caught on her dress; to guide her through the hall; to feel the soft skin of her bare arm; to trace the curve of her hip. When he sees the opportunity he doesn’t hesitate to take it.

She bewitched him: mind, body, and soul. It’s cliché, he knows, but it’s true.

He wasn’t worried when he found out that he had been cast opposite her on the show, even though he had a long standing crush on her. Even in retrospect, there was no way he could have seen this coming. Her personality, her beauty, her kindness – as much as they came through in her TV and interview appearances, none of them were done justice until you spent time with her in person. The more time he spent with her, the more he realized he was in deep water.

His feelings for her developed very quickly. There was no controlling it, as much as he tried in the beginning. And there was no hiding it either, so he didn’t try to do so.

/ /

It pains her to do so, but Patty begs off the after party and tells Chip to go on his own. She knows without a doubt he won’t be on his own really, but she doesn’t want to have that fight.

They show up separately and Chip watches as Connie works the room. It’s hard not to. Before long she makes her way toward him, gesturing toward the side door. With a drink in his hand, he waits a beat before following her lead.

Outside there are a few people milling about, but once they pass through a gate they’re suddenly alone. Finding a bench, they sit down. She can feel his thigh against hers, his bicep pressed against her arm, and she relaxes into him. They shouldn’t be this close, but it feels so good.

They don’t say anything, they don’t need to.

Neither of them has spoken their feelings out loud, neither of them feels the need to do so. Instead they speak in meaningful looks and stolen touches. This way they think they’re protecting themselves, protecting each other. They think that they have some semblance of control.

Their restraint is nearly nonexistent. They’re charting dangerous territory, their resolve slipping further with every passing second. Neither of them can quite remember why they shouldn’t be kissing, why their arms shouldn’t be wrapped around one another, why they shouldn’t finally break that last barrier that they had put up haphazardly.

The sound of footsteps drawing closer is the only thing stopping them.

The Fall – Part One

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on November 5, 2013 by roxy206

[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.


Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on October 6, 2013 by roxy206

[Disclaimer] This is pure fiction, written about real people

[Pairing] Connie Britton & Chip Esten

[One Shot]

It should bother him, having to watch her filming scenes with other men. Especially scenes like this that find her under the sheets with someone who isn’t him. Deep in the recesses of his mind a ping of jealousy registers. He has an override code though: He knows that at the end of the day he’s the one she’s going to be with.

He sat in a chair in Makeup while they piled on the green concealer, hiding the marks on her shoulders. They shooed him out before they started on the ones on her inner thighs, just in case. He smirked at her as he walked by. There was no need to make him leave since he was the one who had put them there.

The call sheet didn’t include his name for the scene, but he was there any way. He watched as they filmed take after take. It wasn’t lost on him when in between she laughed softly, but her eyes searched for his.

It’s dark out and they’re in the back of a car like two teenagers. She makes him feel like he’s seventeen again, the way he can’t get enough of her. When he’s not with her she’s all he can think about. His mind flits between the curve of her waist where he rests his hand, the slope of her neck that attracts his mouth like a magnet, and every other inch of her body.

She rolls her head away from him and slides her hand up to his face.

“Chip, stop,” she tells him. “I’ve got hickeys all over me!”

“Mm, I know. I want everyone to know that you’re not available.”

He kisses her neck again and runs his hand up her leg, and her protests are forgotten.

Tomorrow she’ll be chided again for the fresh marks, teased about the scarf she’ll wear around her neck even though it’s not quite cool enough to require one yet. They’ll ask her in hushed tones who it is and she’ll continue to keep mum. She’ll throw them a bone sometimes and give them the anonymous dirty details, but never when Chip is within hearing distance. His ego doesn’t need any more stroking when she’s already let it slip that he makes her scream more than anyone has before.

She often thinks about how she should exercise more control with him.

It was never supposed to be like this. They were going to sleep together once, they agreed, to get it out of their systems, so that the temptation wouldn’t be there any more, so that they would know what it was like and could get on with their lives.

The decision came late one night when they were sitting in her backyard drive king too much whiskey. Flirting came naturally to them, but the alcohol made them brazen. Her hand was on his leg as they talked, both of them well aware. Her brain was addled not only by the booze, but by the chemistry constantly buzzing between them. It was a thought that had crossed her mind more than once, so when the words began tumbling out she didn’t try to stop them.

They had been drifting far too close for far too long. Maybe they should have known better, maybe they did. They had deluded themselves into thinking that one night would be enough because they were so desperate to explore this thing between them. It seemed reasonable; it seemed like something they could write off.

The realization that it was never that simple came almost immediately. The desire was still there. If anything it was more intense. They lay next to each other, trying not to touch and failing miserably.

For weeks they swore up and down that this would be the last. She even agreed to go out for drinks with someone else, thinking that sleeping with someone else would be the cure. She cursed under her breath at the bar when she found herself reaching for her phone to text Chip. She cursed again when his car was already in the driveway when she got home. And she cursed over and over as he thrust into her.

After that they stopped pretending that there was an end in sight.

Her skin is slick with perspiration, her hair sticking slightly to the nape of her neck. She turns her head toward him as he buttons his shirt and she sighs. She doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing, neither does he, but in this moment she doesn’t give a damn.

When she exits the car she calls over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow night.”


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