Work Text:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first time they meet, it's almost like a romantic comedy meet-cute, as stupid as that sounds.
Jennifer's too busy rummaging through the contents of her gigantic purse (which is really more of an upscale duffel bag, if she's being honest; she keeps way too much useless crap in it), a futile attempt at finding her sunglasses, to notice that there's someone standing between her and her desired destination.
Just as her fingers wrap around said long-lost eyewear, she collides with a solid wall of boy; a second later, she's sprawled on the sidewalk amid what surely looks like half of her wordly posessions. There's no effort on her part to collect anything; the boy she collided with, however, is valiantly gathering as much of her makeup, collection of Post-It reminders, and candy stash as he can hold, apologizing profusely as he does so.
"Don't even bother," she says, waving a hand to gesture at her belongings. "I have too much shit anyway."
He laughs, raises an eyebrow. "Very progressive of you."
"Thanks." There's a smile, a slight tilt of her head, like a thought is dawning, but then the moment passes. "I guess I'll see you around?"
He nods, is halfway to handing over her stuff before he remembers she doesn't want it. "Sounds like a plan."
'Around' turns out to be sooner than either of them expects; ten minutes later in some random office with a bunch of producers asking him his thoughts on Peeta's motivation while she stands in the corner, bottom lip caught between her teeth, watching everything play out. Later, this will come to be known as 'Jen's Serious Thought Face', a moniker he bestows with much dramatic flair.
At the moment, though, he can only wonder what she's thinking about. He stutters over a few lines, being otherwise occupied as he is. He hopes it comes off as method acting, Peeta's nerves blending in with Josh's words.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In interviews, they fight about pink dresses versus white ones, make up stories about awkward creeper moments on the dance floor of a club in LA. They can never remember all the details of this fake introduction, due in large part to the fact that it's a complete fabrication.
Their publicists want to strangle them every time they do it, but neither of them can tell the real story without giving too much away. Not that an upturned purse and lunch after a screen test means anything at all. (In this case, though, it might just mean everything.)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There's a signing at a Hot Topic in Dayton. All they want to do is ditch and find the nearest Steak n' Shake. Correction: all Jenn wants to do.
"This is the topic of conversation while we're doing this? Really?" Josh asks against her lips, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. "All thoughts of food should be lost, replaced with me and my excellent moves."
She laughs, kisses him as she says, "Come on. You know how much I like cheese fries. How can you deny me that?"
"Everybody decent in here?" Elizabeth yells just before the door swings open and she steps into the stockroom. They're on opposite sides of the room now, staring at the floor, shifting nervously. The blond just smiles, shakes her head in amusement. "We're starting in five. Thought you'd want to know."
Clothes are straightened, grins are exchanged. As Jennifer passes him on the way out the door, she puts her palm against his chest, leans in. "We'll work on your moves later."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Someone really should have filled them in on the whole Peeniss thing. Finding out about it at a public appearance is not a great experience. After the girl has said it, she looks at them expectantly for a good minute before giving up and going to rant about their collective rudeness to her mother. What were they supposed to say? Oh, that's great, honey? Well, that didn't happen. There's a beat where they share a horrified glance, before realization slowly dawns on Jennifer.
"Oh," she draws out in a breath. "Peeniss. Like Brangelina. Got it." After which they dissolve into a fit of laughter and hurriedly ask for a break to compose themselves. They take their get out of jail free card and run with it, making that trip to Steak n' Shake after all.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I can't believe she actually said that! She was ten!" Jennifer punctuates her outburst by dipping a fry in her milkshake, popping it in her mouth.
"In all fairness, she probably didn't realize we were going to take it like we did. It was just a name-smash to her."
"Such a classy one, too." She lifts her milkshake in the air, nods in his direction until he follows suit with his. "To Peeniss."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Her brothers decide to get her plastered the night of the New York premiere. She texts Josh in the limo on the way over: FYI I'm a little bit wasted right now. Might have to run damage control. Also. Remind me to kill Ben for this.
He's already waiting for her when she gets there, extends his hand to her before the handler dude has a chance. A piece of gum finds its way into her palm as one of his arms wraps around her waist. "Liquid courage doing the trick?"
"Kind of. The world is sort of spinny, though, and balance has never been one of my selling points so...I'm just going to lean on you a bit. You know, not so much that it looks like I'm trashed at a major franchise function. Which. If we're being honest here, I totally am." She tries to curl herself into his body somewhat, for the sake of being steady, and fails miserably. "Also, apparently I can't lean on you when I'm wearing heels. I'm four inches taller than you. It's awkward."
"I like you when you're drunk," he laughs. "Your filter goes from one to negative five."
She unwinds his arm from her waist, turns toward him with an exaggerated pout, starts walking backwards as she says, "So, what? Alcohol makes me more attracti...?" The end of that last word is lost as she trips over her dress and has to save herself mid-fall. Don't ask her how she does it; it's pretty much a miracle, destined never to be repeated. "Note to self: no walking backwards. Straight lines only."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She feels like death the next morning. Her hazy brain concludes none of this would be happening if she'd had wine like a civilized person. She can handle wine; Elizabeth has made sure of that. Tequila, though? Tequila is a whole different ballgame.
"You alright in here?" Josh asks, coming to stand next to the bed. He's in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, iPod hanging out of his pocket; he must have gone for a run.
There's a mumbled not so much as she buries her face in a pillow and pulls the comforter over her head. The bed sinks slightly when he climbs in next to her. "Move over, lush."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rest of the day (after she feels human again, brushes her teeth and changes her clothes) is spent watching Boy Meets World reruns on MTV, racking up a ridiculous room service bill, and continuing what Elizabeth interrupted in Hot Topic a few weeks ago.
All in all, it isn't horrible. In fact, it's one of the best day's she's had in a while. Maybe she'll actually let Ben live to see his 28th birthday.