There's a back story here, which you'll find obvious if you read it. But I can't decide if I want to explore it or not.
This is based off of The Darjeeling Limited and the short film which accompanies it, featuring Jason Schwartzman (who is love) and Natalie Portman (who is love of a different kind).
Enjoy. Review if you like.
Dislcaimer: I own nothing except a good grilled cheese recipe.
At the front desk of the Hotel Chevalier in the middle of Paris, the desk clerk typed away at his computer as the phone rang loudly. Frustrated, he reached for the phone. It was the middle of the night, who in their right mind would be calling so late?
"Le Concierge?" he answered, his French accent thick.
On the other end of the line, Derek Venturi ordered room service in the form of soup, a grilled cheese, and some chocolate cheesecake, all in perfect French. Thanking the clerk, he hung up the phone and returned to his laptop. He was lying on top of the bed, which was made up with a lavish golden comforter accompanied by at least a dozen fluffy pillows. His things were strewn about the room, as though he'd been there for a very long time. Scattered beside him were several books, a few of which were opened to particular pages.
A few seconds later, the phone on the nightstand rings. He glanced at it warily, not wanting to divert his attention away from his writings. Deciding it was probably the hotel calling back just to confirm his order, he picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Hi." Comes a familiar female tone from the speaker, one he hasn't heard in many months. Derek didn't reply. Honestly, he's pretty surprised by the call.
"I'm on my way from the airport and the hotel won't give me your room number." The woman tries again. He still won't answer.
"What's your room number?"
There is a long, heavy pause before he responds.
"Four-oh-seven." He said, his voice completely monotone.
"See you in a half an hour." She says and he can tell she's smirking at the other end, wherever she is. He damns himself for being so weak.
"Wait a sec." He says softly, before she can hang up.
"What?" Now she sounded frustrated.
"Where are you?" He closed his eyes and held his breath, hoping the answer was something other than what he assumed. She couldn't actually be here, in Paris…could she?
"I'm here." She replied. He sighed quietly in response.
"I didn't say you could come here." It comes out a lot less threatening than it sounded in his head and for that he's ashamed.
"Well, can I come there?" It's a rhetorical question. He can actually hear her smirk this time. She's in the same city and they both know there's no way he can deny her now.
He pauses again, taking a few more deep breaths.
"Okay." He said reluctantly, although it once again didn't sound quite as he'd hoped.
"I'll see you in a half an hour."
Derek hears the faint beeping which signals that the call has ending and slams the phone down angrily. Although, he wasn't quite sure if he was angry with himself or with her. Either way, he was upset.
Frantically, he rushed around the room, straightening and cleaning, curious as to why he was suddenly trying to gain her approval. He knew he would never have it. It was a waste of his time, yet he still cleaned. He showered quickly and got dressed in nice slacks and a button down shirt. He checks himself in the mirror, liking what he sees and sits calmly on the bed to wait her arrival. He waits no more than a few moments until he heard the ding of the elevator and, seconds later, a knock at his door. Double clicking on a Carey Ott song in his iTunes, he gets up to answer the door.
Casey isn't paying attention as he opens the door; she's distracted by whoever it is on her cell phone. So, he takes the moment to look her over. She hadn't changed much; still as beautiful as ever dressed in a green knee-length trench coat, grey pants coming out from the bottom with tall, stiletto boots coming from beneath them. Her hair was down and curly, though not quite as long as her remembered. Perhaps it was just the way she styled it.
"I'll have to call you back." She whispered into the cell phone, finally taking notice of him standing in the doorway. She slips past him into the room without saying a word, as though she were staying there, too. He lets her, sighing softly.
"What's this music?" she asked, stripping her coat from her body. Under it she was wearing an off-white, sleeveless blouse. It was almost see-through – Derek thinks, probably on purpose – so that he could painfully see the creamy expanse of her stomach and belly button, even the straps of her flesh colored bra.
He shrugs as an answer and Casey doesn't press him. Instead, she walks to him and holds out a bouquet of white flowers. Not allowing time for him to take them from her, she steps even closer to him and appears to try and kiss him. But Derek turns his head suddenly and they ended up hugging, much longer than necessary.
He watched her as she walked around the large suite, inspecting all of his collected belongings.
"How'd you find me?" He asks, breaking the thick silence.
"It wasn't actually that hard." She answered, facing him for a second, and then going back to looking at his stuff. "Just a few quick phone calls."
"Won't that pretty husband of yours be missing you?" He can hear the disdain dripping from every word in that question and he's sure she can, too. But she shrugs it off.
"I'm sure he will. To hell with him."
Derek perks up slightly at this, but he knows the attitude that she currently hails will not last long.
He followed her with his eyes as she crossed from the sitting area of the room to his bedroom, glancing around slightly, then into his bathroom. He takes of a seat on the edge of his bed after setting the flowers on the desk. He can hear her brushing her teeth in there, obviously with his toothbrush.
Casey reemerged a few minutes later and sat in a chair across from him.
"What the hell is going on with you, Derek?"
He doesn't answer. He doesn't even look up at her. So, she tried a different approach.
"How long have you had this room?"
"I don't know." He replies honestly, glancing up this time.
"More than a week?"
"More than a week." He nods in affirmation.
"More than a month?"
"More than a month." He nods again.
She looks around a little bit, admiring the décor. "How much does it cost?"
"I think around 750 million euros, or something?"
Casey rolled her eyes at his exaggeration and stood up from the chair. "How long are you going to stay?"
His eyes met hers and they locked in a stare. She could see the hurt and confusion on his face.
"How long are you going to stay?" He countered, unsure himself of the answer.
She looks down ashamedly for a second. "I have a flight out tomorrow morning."
He frowned at this and glanced at the carpet, too. While he's looking down, she crosses the distance between the chair and the bed and is sitting close to him. They lock eyes once again.
"Don't you think it's time for you to go home?" Her expression is deadly serious.
"Probably."
She waits a beat before her next question. "Are you running away from me?"
Derek sighs for what seems like the hundredth time and runs a hand through his hair, not breaking the gaze they held. "I thought I already did."
Both of their eyes close and they lean in to each other, before a quiet knock on the door breaks them apart.
Flustered, Derek rises from the bed and goes to answer the door, greeted by a young Frenchman pushing his cart full of food. He signs for the meal and orders a couple of drinks before ushering the boy out.
The door hadn't even closed before Casey grabbed him and pressed her mouth to his harshly. Her hands went up and tangled in his hair, pulling his body closer to hers. As reluctant as he was, Derek kissed her back fiercely, wrapping his arms around her waist. They stumbled back to the bed, him removing her tall boots. After a few moments, her pants and his shirt are on the hotel floor. His hands roam underneath the loose fabric of her blouse and he holds her body close to him, breathing in her scent. God, it felt so good to hold her again like this.
"Have you slept with anyone?" She whispers hotly against the top of his head.
"No." He replied automatically, and it was the truth. She kisses him passionately again and he managed to get out a return question. "Have you?"
She stops her administrations and looks him in the eye, pausing. "No." She stated finally, firmly.
"That was a long pause." He notices, but she doesn't answer. She only pushed him down to the mattress and kissed him again, harder this time.
After some minutes, she pulled back slightly, her eyes still closed. "Whatever happens, in the end, I don't want to lose you as my friend." She declares softly in his ear.
"Casey, I promise I will never be your friend, ever. No matter what."
She was starring into his eyes now, searching for some sign that he was joking.
"If we fuck, I'm going to feel like shit tomorrow." She said finally, a little bit louder this time.
"That's okay with me." He replied, his eyes never leaving hers. They kissed again and he slid his hands up further beneath her shirt. Instead of letting him take it off, she sat up and removed it herself.
"I never meant to hurt you on purpose. I love you."
Derek shook his head and had to hold back a smirk. "I don't care."
She looked at him, perplexed, unsure if he meant he didn't care that she hadn't meant to break his heart or that she loved him. Deciding that she shouldn't question him anymore and that in the morning, it wouldn't matter anyway, she leaned back down, touching her bare skin to his as he discarded the final piece of clothing between them.
In the morning, he hopes that he's woken up late enough that she isn't there anymore. To his dismay, he feels her limbs entwined with his. He frowns slightly and shifts, causing her to stir. Her eyes open and focus on him and they stare at one another for a while.
"Want to see my view of Paris?" he whispers.
"Sure."
Not my best, and that's for sure. But whatever. Feedback is greatly appreciated. :)