Raina

So you never thought you'd ship Donna/Master huh?

akhilanda — Mon, 14 Jan 2013 10:53:31 GMT

Me either! And yet behold the power of tumblr!

http://watson-sighs-and-tuts.tumblr.com/post/39892345917/au-meme-the-master-doctordonna-in-which

"A living fire.

So much passion, noise and life in her. She was his surroundings. His world full of her voice, her know-it-all comments (she was even worse than the Doctor used to be, that sanctimonious bore, while she was a daring challenge, sparkling with attitude and sarcasm), her overwhelming presence he got used to too much, too soon, and entirely."

akhilanda — Sun, 13 Jan 2013 18:42:30 GMT

Just in case you guys haven't seen this awesomeness yet: it be EPIC!

http://what-ilove-about-maan.tumblr.com/

...and not just because they have sleuthed that this appears to be DT slapping CT's butt as they run off stage?!?!

Stratford Story, Part 4

akhilanda — Fri, 30 Mar 2012 00:55:15 GMT

~~~

Titled: Stratford
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Once again, the Much Ado analysis is cribbed from Sykira, with thanks.
Summary: Fictional story set during rehearsals for MAAN
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, this is pure fiction, based on nothing but imagination. We have the highest respect for these real life people, forgive us for playing with these fictionalized versions of two of the greatest actors ever to grace our screen and stage.

**WARNING: REAL PERSON FIC**
Fiction story based on a fictional notion of real people, please don’t read if such things offend you, written for fun not for profit.

Chapter Four

~~~

She hung back in the beautiful flower garden as David was checking them in. It was late in the afternoon, the skies were clear but it was still too cold for many tourists so this quiet corner of Stratford was all theirs. The fragile warmth of early English spring was dissipating as the sun was setting.

When he appeared at her side with an almost manic grin Catherine felt a flush run through her body and forgot all about feeling the cold. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he held out a key. He had a package under his arm, wrapped in many layers of tissue paper rustling in the light breeze.

Even the room key was ornate wrought iron, David had been so excited when they found this place, everything as close to Shakespeare’s time as possible.

“Want to head on up or just stay out here for a while?”

Catherine took a last deep breath of the flowers, daffodils and crocuses in bloom this time of year. “I can’t wait to see the room,” she admitted with an impish smile. “I want to see this recreation of an Elizabethan aristocracy’s bed chamber.”

He grinned and held out his hand.

~~~

~~~

“Oh! It’s gorgeous! I didn’t think it would be so grand…it’s a bit imposing, isn’t it?” Her shoulders hunched a little, she suddenly felt like she wanted to turn heel and run, what where they doing here?

David closed the door behind them then laid his mysterious package on the side table. He came up behind her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. She leaned back against him unconsciously and he moved his arms to envelope her in his embrace.

“If it is too much…” He leaned down, bringing his lips to her ear. “We can take this as far as you want, sweet Beatrice, we can stop whenever you feel uncomfortable.”

His breath was warm on her cheek, she wanted to turn just a little and seek his lips with her own. Catherine spun in his arms and rested her forehead on his chest before she could act on her impulse to kiss him. Other than one lingering embrace goodbye at her front door that morning he hadn’t kissed her or initiated any kind of intimate contact since last night – it added to the sense of unreality she felt about their magical night together.

He held her for a few moments then he tilted her chin up to see her face. His deep brown eyes held her and she forgot how to breathe. Then the corners of his eyes wrinkled in concern. She forced herself to take a breath and relax in his arms.

His eyes searched her face. “I don’t want to make you do something you aren’t ready for,” he breathed. Was that why he had been holding off until now? Or was it simply that this was the first time they had been alone again behind closed doors?

“It’s her first time.” She dodged the question, hoping he would realize she was trying to answer him in her own way. “I think the point is that she is going to feel uncomfortable, perhaps even intimidated. And I don’t know how that would be for her – she’s so proud, so independent, so much of her identity is wrapped up in scorning marriage.” Catherine brought the subject of their conversation back to Beatrice.

David didn’t miss a beat. “And turning down suitors,” he finished for her. “Hmmm…but it’s different with Benedick, she ‘knows him of old’. She knows and trusts her groom, she knows he will be very gentle with her.”

Catherine swallowed at the tenderness in his expression, hearing the promise she knew he meant to convey.

“If she will trust him?” he asked, his eyes serious.

“I trust you,” she vowed.

His face broke into a beautiful smile, melting her uncertainties.

“Where would you like to begin?” He looked a little bit like an eager puppy but Catherine had no idea how to answer him – the last thing she could do here was be the one to initiate intimacy between them, even if it was in the guise of their characters. She was in a hotel room with a man once voted Britain’s sexiest male actor and there was still a part of her who whispered there was no way he could be attracted to her, much as he seemed to be last night. She swallowed down anxiety.

“How about we unpack a little and make this place ours?” she suggested.

“Brilliant!” He beamed at her and she laughed. And she told herself she didn’t need more from him than friendship, he was her best friend and one of the most gifted actors of their time. They were here for their characters, for a west end production they had born between them, for a cast and crew relying on them to sell the relationship at the heart of the story. She wouldn’t let them down. She wouldn’t let him down.

It didn’t take them long to unpack. She set her hairbrush down in front of the antique dressing table, admiring the delicate burnished wooden drawers and the beautiful framed mirror. His hands were warm on her shoulders as he came up behind her and she caught his eye in the reflection.

Then he pressed gently down on her shoulders and guided her to sit at the dressing table. She understood why when he leaned over her to pick up her hairbrush, pausing on the way to drop a tender kiss just below her earlobe.

Then he was undoing her loose ponytail and brushing out her hair in long gentle strokes. The gentleness with which he combed through her tangled locks stole her breath away, all she could do was watch him. He was fully absorbed in attending to her, and so very very careful not to tug or pull at any point.

When he was finished her hair was fanned out over her shoulders and he set the brush aside, now simply running his fingers through her hair with reverence. There was something ritualistic, almost holy, about his attentions. All Catherine could do was observe him and enjoy the way he made her feel: like a princess.

His hands finally ceased their ministrations and she met his eyes in the mirror again.

“My lady.” He spoke in hushed tones that made goosebumps rise on her sensitized skin.

“Signior,” she whispered in reply. She rose to her feet and turned to find herself in his arms.

They looked at each other, eyes wide. “Okay,” David said, his hands on her arms, rubbing them absently. Catherine wasn’t certain if he was trying to reassure her or himself. “Okay. Let’s go back to basics, all right? How did we do this in drama school?”

“Umm…” Catherine thought for a moment, grateful for his pragmatism. “Context and motivation,” she dredged up from drama school memories. “Let’s think of the context – what has happened to these characters before this point? Some kind of rushed wedding ceremony?”

“Her uncle wanted that. But Benedick has taken the reins now though. He won’t let them rush things – remember, he insisted on the dancing to lighten the mood before the exchange of vows.”

“He overruled my uncle,” Catherine confirmed. “And he makes them wait off on devising punishment for Don John.”

“So that the bitterness wouldn’t spoil her wedding day,” David added, his face aglow. “Beatrice is his focus, he’ll do anything for her.”

Catherine couldn’t suppress a grin. He had been right to suggest this trip, she felt freer up here than in London and she knew she was on the cusp of understanding more about these characters and their evolution than ever before.

“So,” he paused to kiss her hand, “Benedick will make sure nothing is rushed. Beatrice and Hero will have beautiful ceremonies and he’ll be at her side for the festivities too. Also…” He slid his hand around her waist as he continued, gently pulling her close to him. “I don’t know how much you know about Elizabethan marriage customs but I don’t think Benedick would let anything happen that would upset his new bride.”

Catherine blinked. Her focus was very much on the feel of his hands sliding around her body, so wonderfully possessive. “Um,” she struggled to remember Shakespearean history lessons. “Something about every bloke there getting to dance with the bride?”

“And she can’t refuse them. Also, the bed chamber stuff.”

“Oh. I remember now, they all crowd into the room and try to witness it?” She shuddered in spite of how light her tone was and pressed closer to his chest.

“Well, I think by Shakespeare’s time that was just a send off. I can assure you Signior Benedick would dismiss any onlooker long before that part of the wedding ceremony began.” His hold tightened on her body making her feel safe and protected.

Catherine looked into his eyes, so earnest, so much love there. She wanted to kiss him. She settled a hand on his chest with a murmured, “milord.”

This close she could see his pupils dilate. His hands came up and cupped her face and she held her breath as he lowered his mouth to hers. His lips ghosted close to her mouth, dusting her cheeks with butterfly kisses but stopping short of claiming her. Catherine was enchanted, transported to another place and time by his mannerly seduction, she suddenly wanted his lips on hers so much it almost burned.

“I believe we covered ‘context’”, he murmured, “so that leaves motivation.”

“Mmm…” She felt so tingly as his fingers threaded into her hair and she almost went up on tiptoes to bring her mouth closer to his.

“Motivation is clear.” His breath was warm on her eyelids as they fluttered closed. “Benedick is very, very attracted to his bride, his love for her consumes him.” He paused to kiss her forehead. “Ever since he started to believe she could return his affections, Benedick can think on nothing else. His whole character changes and matures from that point on.”

“It’s not as easy for Beatrice,” Catherine said quietly.

“I know.” His hands moved to her shoulders, releasing her from the close circle of intimacy they had shared while his hands framed her face.

“She’s scared. I know she’s so bolshy and quick to criticize marriage—and so reluctant to take a husband—but her derision is covering up so much insecurity,” she trailed off, wanting to bring up how being an orphan in those times made Beatrice’s position as a woman all the more tenuous but yet feeling silly about being hesitant to lay bare Beatrice’s innermost insecurities to Benedick.

His hands caressed her shoulders reassuringly. “I know.”

“And so very proud,” she continued, “‘Nature never framed a woman's heart of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice; disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes’…so much on the line to give her heart away after all this time. She was committed to staying a maid forever, with whatever measure of independence that brought her in those days, at the discretion of her uncle.” She looked up to see deep understanding in his eyes.

“Benedick is scared too and proud too.”

She nodded. David traced his fingertips down her arm until he interlaced their fingers. “’Tame thy wild heart to my loving hand,’” he whispered tenderly. “Wilt thou sit on the bed with me, my sweet Beatrice?”

~~~
Part Five: http://akhilanda.livejournal.com/6857.html

Stratford Story, Part 3

akhilanda — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 01:21:36 GMT

Author's Notes: Wow, thank you so much for the comments! Here is another part, racier than before, note rating change. Sorry for the lack of Shakespeare in this one, but that comes back in the next chapter. For catch-up the first chapter is here: http://akhilanda.livejournal.com/5791.html, the second is here: http://akhilanda.livejournal.com/6059.html

~~~
Titled: Stratford
Rating: R
Summary: Fictional story set during rehearsals for MAAN
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, this is pure fiction, based on nothing but imagination. We have the highest respect for these real life people, forgive us for playing with these fictionalized versions of two of the greatest actors ever to grace our screen and stage.

**WARNING: REAL PERSON FIC**
Fiction story based on a fictional notion of real people, please don’t read if such things offend you, written for fun not for profit.

Previously:

She swallowed as he caught her hand, something about the smoky darkness in his eyes filled her with a thrilling trepidation.

"What are you thinking?" she asked weakly. Her legs felt as if they would give way at any second.

"Well, it's kind of like two different exercises, like if it scares you to jump off the stage you should rehearse with an even bigger jump so on the night it will be easy?"

She nodded and licked dry lips. “And the second exercise?”

“Just a simple trust exercise really. When you practice letting go and letting someone else be in charge of you, of your body.” His eyes were so dark and her stomach dipped at his words in a way that was anything but unpleasant.

“Someone you trust,” she added faintly, feeling flushed. He nodded.

“I can see how that suits Beatrice’s situation,” she began. Her head was swimming. His hand tightened on hers and she looked up again.

"Catherine, how would it be if we played out Beatrice and Benedick's wedding night?"

~~~
Chapter Three
~~~

Now she knew her legs wouldn’t hold her up any more. She stumbled back and sat heavily on the sofa. David followed her, sitting too close, his arm moving around her waist.

“Catherine?”

“That’s…um…that definitely fits the idea of a bigger jump,” she mumbled. “You know, like you said, if you’re afraid to jump off the stage…”

“I remember.” His lips quirked into a smile which she returned, letting go a breath at the same time. What was he suggesting? She couldn’t possibly act out a sex scene with this man, much as she prided herself on her professionalism she couldn’t possibly go through with that or he might find out just how much she had fantasized about doing just that very thing.

“I can’t tonight, David, I—”

“No, no, I’m not…” His ears reddened. “I’m not trying to press you into…” Now it was his turn to be flustered. Catherine lifted her hand to his face and gently turned him back to her.

“I know. I know you wouldn’t, that you don’t mean to…” Her words faltered. Of course he wouldn’t, not with her. They were just friends after all. She swallowed down a wave of sadness and looked down.

A moment later she felt his hand on her back, smoothly stroking up and down. It felt so nice she closed her eyes against tears that threatened.

“I was thinking maybe we could go away for a day or so, just the two of us?”
He spoke softly and she was nodding before she knew what he was even saying. “Before the play really gets underway,” he continued, “maybe Stratford, they have amazing reconstructions of what Elizabethan houses were like back in Beatrice and Benedick’s time.”

“Mmm hmmm.” Was he really asking her to go away with him?

“Catherine, I need to tell you something. I want to do this with you but it would be wrong if I don’t come clean first.”

She opened her eyes, the naked vulnerability in his voice startling her.

“What’s wrong?” Her own worries were forgotten now. “Is something wrong, David?”

He swallowed, his mouth opening and closing a few times. “Listen, I…I don’t want this to change anything between us, I don’t want to do anything to make the play difficult for you, so I’m just going to say this and we can forget I said anything, alright? Don’t feel you have to acknowledge it in any way, I just, I need to be straight with you, cause I can’t take you away for Beatrice and Benedick’s first night together as husband and wife and for you not to know…”

“Know what?” She was completely at a loss as to what he was talking about but the fear in his eyes was extremely unsettling. She clutched his hand.

“How I feel about you,” he spoke in a rush, his manic eyes casting about the room then back to her like she was his anchor in a storm. “I…Catherine, I’m so sorry, you are my best friend and this is crazy but I…l-like you, I mean…I am falling for you so crazy hard and it doesn’t matter at all, please, I can’t risk our friendship, you are so important to me, I just wanted you to know before we did anything, so you’d know, but I won’t let it, I mean, I would never…just pretend I didn’t say anything.”

She gasped. Her world spinning madly until it coalesced into just the point of his words in her head. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, this couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t.

“Catherine, please say something. No, wait, I said I wouldn’t pressure you, you don’t have to say anything, don’t say anything…I’m just going to go…I’ll text you in the morn—“

“Me?” she uttered. He stopped short, frozen in the act of getting up to leave.

“What?”

“Me? I mean…falling for me?”

He stared at her for a moment. “Yes.” He sat back down beside her, a respectable distance away now.

“But…” She was thoroughly confused. “Me?”

“Yes you. Ah’course you.” He sounded incredulous and his Scottish lilt was stronger than ever, a sure sign that he was stressed.

She looked at him, watched his mouth move, but her brain stubbornly refused to process what he was trying to say. Her hands fluttered in her lap nervously until he grasped them.

“Catherine? Are you alright? Should I leave? Should I not have said anything?”

“Are you sure?”

His eyebrows lifted impossibly high and he gave a short bark of near hysterical laughter. “Yes. Very very sure. For a very long time.” His mouth closed with a snap and she had the distinct impression he was saying more than he meant to. She, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be able to say anything at all.

They were both still for a moment until her hands twitched under his and he released his hold on her. She missed his touch immediately but the next thing she knew he was pulling on his shoes and fishing around for his jacket and fidgeting with his keys. His long lanky form was lacking his usual grace and coordination and all she could do was watch him. Don’t go, her mind screamed at him.

Then he was walking away, she heard the latch on the front door as he opened it, heard him sigh and shuffle his feet. She tried to move, to get up, to go to him, but she simply couldn’t, she was rooted to the spot.

Her paralysis didn’t break until she finally heard the front door close and then she collapsed on the couch, burying her face in the cushions as unexpected sobs tore from her throat. It was always like this for her, only able to really let her emotions out when she was alone.

But how much had that weakness cost her? What the hell had she just done? The man she loved had confessed his heart to her and she had frozen him out. What kind of cold-hearted idiot was she? But then could he really mean it? This was a man who could have any woman in the world – could have had any Beatrice in the world – and he had chosen her. It made no sense at all and now she had ruined everything.

When she heard his voice calling her name so softly she began to think she was hallucinating and she crawled deeper into the cushions, blinded by her tears.

Then there were hands, tenderly rubbing her back and she lifted her head, not expecting it to be anything but her panic-addled imagination.

He was there, kneeling on the floor beside the sofa, holding out a Kleenex, his face creased with worry. “Please don’t cry.” His voice broke with agonized guilt.

She choked back another sob and sat up hurriedly. “You left,” she said thickly and accepted the tissues with shaking fingers.

“I couldn’t go, not until I knew you were alright,” he apologized.

“Oh,” was all she could manage.

“I’m your friend, you are mine, let’s pretend that I never said anything and go back to that, okay?” His voice was even, controlled, the consummate actor was back in control now, she recognized his mask.

She closed her eyes. She had been given another chance and she wasn’t going to screw this up again tonight.

“Catherine? Can I get you some water?”

She opened her eyes. “I feel the same way,” she whispered.

He didn’t say anything and kept his features carefully composed. “Catherine, you don’t have to—”

“I know. I want to. I’m sorry, about before, I just couldn’t believe it, still can’t really, but it’s how I feel too, for you.”

Fear seized her as he continued to stare at her. Had she misunderstood? Had she just made a huge fool of herself? Then slowly his expression crumpled into a lopsided smile and his eyes shone with vulnerability and hope.

“You do?” He sounded as incredulous as she felt.

She nodded. “For ages.” She held out a trembling hand, unable to bear not touching him.

Their fingers tangled then she pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. They clung to each other for a few minutes, neither saying anything.

She let him go eventually and when he pulled back to look at her he brought his hand up to stroke her cheek, his eyes so intense, Catherine couldn’t help it, her lips quirked and she blushed suddenly, looking away in embarrassment. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Are you alright?” Even his whisper sounded loud in the silent room.

Catherine felt like she may never be alright again. She ducked the question. “What do we do now?” she asked him, never feeling quite so naked before him as his eyes devoured her. She couldn’t think straight.

“Everything. Nothing. Whatever you want.”

She looked up into his eyes and knew exactly what she wanted. She felt such a strange heady combination of terrified and yet so safe as his arms came around her. Before her courage could dessert her, Catherine leaned forward and brushed her lips against his.

His groan in response was deep, thrilling her and sending sparks through her body. Then he was moving, his body coming toward her, his hands cradling her face and his lips claiming hers with a desire that shook her to the core – and swept away any insecurities about how much this man wanted her.

She fell back on the couch with a small cry as he came for her, her arms wrapping tightly around him and bringing him down with her. He pulled back slightly, bracing himself above her and she caught a flash of his eyes darker than she had ever seen, full of shocked wonder and fierce arousal. It was too much for her to process, that he could feel that way about her. She missed his kiss immediately and moved her fingers to tangle in his hair, drawing his mouth down to hers with an emotional half-sigh half sob.

He started to say something but it was lost as they were kissing again. He sweetly encouraged her to open to him and then they were tasting each other, his actions somehow both tentative and desperate as he moaned into her mouth.

They explored each other passionately until Catherine needed more of him. She wound her arms around his neck and tried to pull his body closer but he resisted, breaking off their kiss as he lowered his head to her in something like surrender. His breath came in short hot gasps against her throat.

“Closer,” she moaned, drawing him down.

“Catherine, I’ll crush you.”

She laughed. “No, you won’t.”

He lifted up and stared at her, awe in his eyes.

“Please,” she whispered, parting her legs as he settled slowly between them. Even through their clothes she could feel him, his length pressing against her was unmistakable and it was her turn to gasp. He moved immediately, shuffling lower on the couch until his face was level with hers. He was so much taller than her that in this position she could no longer feel the evidence of his need for her, but it stayed in her mind, the echo of him pressing into her body. She was filled with wonder that this man could feel that way about her.

“Stop thinking,” he murmured and skillfully helped her obey his words as he dropped butterfly kisses on her cheeks, working his way around the outline of her lips with soft sensual pecks that drove her wild with desire but before she could grab him and kiss him properly his lips were on her throat and he was mouthing her skin, sending her nerve endings into a frenzy of sensation.

She writhed under him and he let more of his delicious weight pin her down, his long torso trapping her underneath him. She moaned with arousal and tightened her legs around his lithe body. Her hands worked their way to his waistline and she rucked up his shirt to run her hands over the bare skin of his back. His lips vibrated against her skin as he hummed his appreciation.

His tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat and Catherine felt warmth spread throughout her whole body. Her hands seized on his back, her fingernails raking across his skin as she squirmed in pleasure. The things he was doing with his tongue now made her gasp and cry his name.

His lips found hers again and he silenced her pleas with soft kisses, so sweet and gentle they were almost chaste and she wanted to cry suddenly with how he could switch to being so wanton one moment and then so careful and nurturing the next.

He lifted his body and drew them both up to a sitting position. She found herself suddenly light-headed in the middle of his lap as he held her to him securely. He was rubbing her back and alternating between dropping kisses on her forehead and cooing soft sounds of comfort into her hair. She came back to herself slowly, reluctantly, leaning into him for support.

She wanted to ask why he had stopped but when she sought out his face the concern in his eyes gave her the answer. His hands continued tracing hypnotizing patterns on her back and arms. She wanted to tell him she was okay and to keep going but just being held by him like this was so entrancing she found she couldn’t speak. He stole her coherence, he always had.

In the end she said nothing at all. She slipped from his lap and held out a hand to him. He said nothing either as she led him to her bedroom.

He stayed all night long, never asking more from her than just to hold her close. Occasionally he would nuzzle her neck or bury his face in her hair. It was the best night of sleep either of them had had in ages.

~~~

Part 4: http://akhilanda.livejournal.com/6426.html

Stratford Story Part 2

akhilanda — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 00:22:38 GMT

Well, three people liked the first parts so here is more!

~~~
Titled: Stratford
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: DT/CT RPF Real Person Fic. Many thanks to Sykira for her MAAN meta and for a sneak peek at her MAAN stories. All the research and character stuff comes from her posts/writing. For catch up purposes first part is here http://akhilanda.livejournal.com/5791.html, the second is here: http://akhilanda.livejournal.com/6059.html
Summary: Fictional story set during rehearsals for MAAN
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, this is pure fiction, based on nothing but imagination. We have the highest respect for these real life people, forgive us for playing with these fictionalized versions of two of the greatest actors ever to grace our screen and stage.

**WARNING: REAL PERSON FIC**
Fiction story based on a fictional notion of real people, please don’t read if such things offend you, written for fun not for profit.

Chapter Two

He drove her home later that evening and when she turned to get out of the car his hand was on her arm before he knew what he was doing.

She looked up at him questioningly as she sat back in her seat.

“Just wanted—” He ran his other hand through his hair. He didn’t know what he wanted. Or rather, he did. His feelings for her had been strong from the day they had met and now were growing beyond his ability to hide them and that was very much a problem.

“…make sure you’re okay?” he finished with a shrug.

Catherine looked at him for a moment, worrying at her bottom lip. “Do you want to come in?”

Her voice was so faint he couldn’t be sure he heard her right. He scrunched up his face as the swell of emotion threatened to overwhelm him.

“I’d quite like that,” he responded quietly, searching her face to see if she really meant it. He had followed her into her house so many times now he practically knew it better than his own, but tonight felt different. The tension crackled between them.

He sat on her couch, waiting while she flitted about, closing the curtains, offering him drinks and food. Eventually he darted out an arm and snagged her wrist. She froze. Their gazes locked.

“Sit with me?” he asked her and when she didn’t resist he slowly drew her down on the sofa into the circle of his arms. She needed this, he realized, as much as Beatrice needed Benedick to finally grab her and kiss her, she needed him to take the lead in establishing any new level of intimacy between them because for all her light-hearted teasing and banter with him, she could no more easily accept his affection than Beatrice could Benedick. Her heart was too fragile to be given freely. She needed him to take her.

He waited until her body relaxed in his embrace and she nestled into him.

“Catherine…”

“Suppose we got to fix this, eh?” she interrupted him with a half-smile that put him immediately at ease. She was his friend; they could get past this.

He smiled back. “Why do you think we got so flustered today?”

She pressed her lips together as her gaze unfocused, she was remembering. He waited.

She turned from the crook of his arms to look up at him, her hands moving in her lap. He loved that about her, how her hands moved when she spoke earnestly.

"It's like, how does Beatrice respond? Is she still holding back? Is she falling on him as much as he is on her? Is she fending him off? Just standing there passively feels so wrong."

He blinked and tried very hard not to read too much of Catherine into her thoughts about Beatrice. She was looking up at him and he could tell how important it was for her that he understood.

He cleared his throat, wording his question carefully. “Does she…does Beatrice…” love him? “…want him?”

“Very much.” Her answer was forthright.

“Want him to kiss her?”

She thought about that. “Beatrice wants, needs, to know for sure that his love is real, that she can trust in it, before she can give up everything for him and accept his proposal.”

He breathed for a moment, loving how close her analysis was to his own, so much going on behind Beatrice’s defensive posturing.

“So yes,” she continued, tilting her head to look at him slightly shyly through her hair. “I think when he kisses her, she’s maybe a bit surprised at first but then she has that rush of knowing, feeling, how much this man longs for her, it makes it real, it melts her….she should come out of that kiss all doe-eyed and openly lovesick, she no longer cares who is looking on, she…surrenders to him then.”

Catherine’s hands had grabbed his, wonder in her voice, David could tell she was working this out as she spoke and he was honoured to be there in that moment with her. He found himself nodding emphatically.

“As will Benedick—he’ll emerge from kissing her completely overwhelmingly silly in love and no longer trying to hide it at all. He’ll be so joyful, giddy.”

“But yet in charge,” she supplied. He grasped her hands in return and raised a questioning eyebrow, wanting her to elaborate.

“In accepting him, Beatrice gives him the status of a husband, his own estate to head up – the thing Don Pedro mocks him for its lack in their very first scene – gives him a promise of family and future, head of his own household. He’s been coming into his own as a leader of men throughout the play as he starts to believe in her love for him. Taking charge, stepping out from under the prince’s leadership—”

David was nodding enthusiastically now. “And this is the fruition of that…he goes from here to overrule her uncle when he says they will dance before the wedding vows ‘first of my word’ and even the prince – Benedick overrules him too when he wants to go take vengeance against Don John. Benedick tells him to hold off a day. You’re right. The whole play traces how Benedick steps up into his role of being the man Beatrice wants him to be.”

“Oh that I had any friend would be a man…” she whispered in understanding. Her eyes drifted to his lips momentarily.

“So then the kiss…” he prompted quietly.

“I think…” She took a deep breath. “I think it has to be sudden, like you did before, in rehearsal, he has to come at her quickly and take her in his arms before she has a chance to escape.

“She doesn’t want to escape, ” David interjected, feeling slightly defensive. “It’s important to him that she wants him too.”

“No, I didn’t mean escape, I just mean, for so long she’s protested against marriage, resisted countless suitors, held fast to her fragile independence as an orphan living on the kindness of her aunt and uncle – and they are looking on – I don’t think he can give her a chance to refuse him, her pride would trip her up.”

“He’s cottoned on to her, by now, though.” David lifted a hand to stroke Catherine’s hair, his eyes holding hers, their faces close as she turned in his lap. “He knows he needs to—sort of—overrule her too, or her objections anyway. He will stop her mouth with his lips.”

She was quiet now, her eyes round, going still in his arms.

"Cate?” he breathed. “Was I too fast? Did it scare her? Too forceful? Too like her uncle and Claudio?"

Catherine shook her head. "No, if anything, that pause you put in, like he's giving her a chance to escape or demure, I like it. It’s very Benedick. I just don't know what she does then?" She trembled briefly as David’s hand cupped her face and he brushed the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. He knew he shouldn’t touch her like this, it was so close to revealing how he felt about her, but she was so beautiful he couldn’t resist her.

He struggled to bring his mind back to Beatrice and Benedick. "Do you want to try it without the pause?"

Her eyes widened. "Umm, maybe."

He drew her close for a moment, desperate to hug her and take the trepidation from her eyes. She clasped him close then let him go and when she met his eyes she looked more like herself, although still with the shadow of vulnerability she let only him see.

“We don’t have to,” he began.

“No, I want to fix this,” she said resolutely, her devotion to Beatrice shining through.

~~~

He stood up, bringing her with him, then moved to the side a few paces.

Catherine felt fluttering in her stomach that she was determined to ignore.

“Come, I will have thee,” he was quietly intense as he stared at her, “…but, by this light, I take thee for pity.” He cocked his head in challenge.

Catherine could never turn down his challenges, his acting prowess always made her step up her game. She lifted her chin defiantly, the persona of Beatrice slipping around her like a shield.

“I would not deny you;” she began, disdain dripping from her voice as she regarded him coolly, “but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption.”

She ended primly, Beatrice’s scorn a comfortable second skin.

He drew himself up and spoke with command. “Peace, I will stop thy mouth.”

Then he was on her before she knew what was happening. His lips crushing hers, his hands around her back, one hand moving up to wrap his long fingers in her hair. She blinked rapidly, trying not to move away, completely knocked off-kilter with no idea how to respond. She screwed her eyes shut and lifted her arms, knowing she should embrace him in return but having to fight off Beatrice’s instincts to resist this invasion.

She was trying to summon all her acting abilities to make herself return the kiss when David broke off and her eyes flew open. He looked at her, shock in his eyes, and fearful regret as he slowly released her from his grasp.

“It’s not right,” he said abruptly.

"No, no definitely not." Her fingertips fluttered to her lips. She reached for him as he backed away from her looking guilt-ridden.

“I’m sorry, Catherine." He took a step toward her then, watching her carefully.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” she said briskly, wanting more than anything to take the guilt from his eyes. Her heart was still hammering in her chest.

After another moment of just looking at her, David came forward and Catherine closed the distance between them, moving into the gentle circle of his arms. Now she could breathe again. She allowed herself to rest her head on his chest and he held her to him.

"You okay?" he whispered and at the tenderness in the question Catherine hugged him. "I'm fine," she mumbled against his shirt. This close she could smell the clean scent of his aftershave and she turned her face into his chest, inhaling him, hoping it wasn't obvious what she was doing but unable to resist. She loved how he was always so incredibly gentle and careful with her, even when she protested there was no need, it was just who he was, her perfect gentleman.

She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. "Benedick...He's the only man to have been gentle and respectful with her, he can't suddenly not be that, then he really is just trying to stop her mouth, you know?"

His hand moved to her hair, stroking it so softly she felt hypnotized even as his touch sent sparks across her skin. He cupped the back of her head, holding her even closer. The firmer his embrace the more she felt herself relax against him. She never wanted him to let her go.

She sighed against him. They had been touching each other and spending time just the two of them more and more lately. She knew they were friends, a friendship they both held dear, but she couldn’t stop herself from wanting more…and daring to hope that he did too.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured, his lips against her hair.

Oh. "I just... I don't know.” Catherine retreated back to their characters to answer him. “Beatrice is all over the place emotionally, she loves you, but she can't wrap her head around it - around loving any man, much less yielding to him with all of the Elizabethan marriage stuff. She's brittle and then she's vulnerable and he turns her into a pile of mush and then she frights and she's denying him. I can't quite grab the whole thing."

David nodded solemnly, listening patiently. "Benedick is not dissimilar."

She loved how he knew when to just let her ramble on as she had been tonight. "But once he settles on Beatrice, he's focused on that."

David nodded again. "And everything about him hinges on his belief that she would have him. He's clear after that, he knows."

David paused to run his fingers through her hair. She closed her eyes for a moment, just enjoying his gentle touches as they were silent together.

Finally he spoke, his voice tentative. "Remember in drama school all those silly little exercises? To get familiar with your character?"

She looked up at him sheepishly. "I sorta loved those."

"Me too!" He beamed at her.

She drew back reluctantly, suddenly aware of how long she had stood there lost in his embrace.

He took a step in her direction even as she moved away. His eyes on her were intense. "I'm thinking of the one where you play out how your character is in other parts of their life, or even just before or after the events of the play."

She swallowed as he caught her hand, something about the smoky darkness in his eyes filled her with a thrilling trepidation.

"What are you thinking?" she asked weakly. Her legs felt as if they would give way at any second.

"Well, it's kind of like two different exercises, like if it scares you to jump off the stage you should rehearse with an even bigger jump so on the night it will be easy?"

She nodded and licked dry lips. “And the second exercise?”

“Just a simple trust exercise really. When you practice letting go and letting someone else be in charge of you, of your body.” His eyes were so dark and her stomach dipped at his words in a way that was anything but unpleasant.

“Someone you trust,” she added faintly, feeling flushed. He nodded.

“I can see how that suits Beatrice’s situation,” she began. Her head was swimming. His hand tightened on hers and she looked up again.

"Catherine, how would it be if we played out Beatrice and Benedick's wedding night?"

~~~

Part 3: http://akhilanda.livejournal.com/6384.html

Stratford Story

akhilanda — Sun, 25 Mar 2012 19:05:08 GMT

~~~

Titled: Stratford
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: DT/CT RPF Real Person Fic
Summary: Fictional story set during rehearsals for MAAN
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, this is pure fiction, based on nothing but imagination. We have the highest respect for these real life people, forgive us for playing with these fictionalized versions of two of the greatest actors ever to grace our screen and stage.

**WARNING: REAL PERSON FIC**
Fiction story based on a fictional notion of real people, please don’t read if such things offend you, written for fun not for profit.

“Are you ready?” Josie looked at them expectantly. David took a breath and sent a silent prayer of thanks that it was just the three of them in the rehearsal space this evening. Dying rays of wintry sunlight caught in Catherine’s hair as she tilted her head to one side and managed a small chagrinned smile for him. Underneath all the bluster of Beatrice, she looked as nervous as he felt.

Josie started laughing a little as she looked between them. “Relax, loves, it’s just our first run through, doesn’t matter how much it goes awry, you always give me great stuff to work with. So don’t look so terrified, okay?”

There was a twinkle in her eye as she spoke, amusement but also understanding in her voice.

Shaking himself back into character was a refuge from the myriad emotions David himself was caught up in. He slipped so easily into Signior Benedick’s skin now, it felt comfortable and right, as long as Catherine was the Beatrice beside him. Benedick sniffed haughtily and drew himself up to his full height, looking out over an imagined audience and beyond as he feigned nonchalance.

“Come, I will have thee,” he tossed out as if without a care in the world, only a tremulous sniff at the end of the sentence belying just how much Benedick’s heart was on the line as he extended another offer to the Lady Beatrice.

“…but, by this light, I take thee for pity.”

Beatrice gasped at him, agog with indignation, which Catherine pulled off beautifully. Then she straightened and puffed out her chest with a defiant toss of her hair. Her ginger locks alone were enough to distract David; he struggled to focus on her words instead.

“I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption.” She spat out the last, a challenge even as she was yielding to him. Her lips twitched and he swung his hips around to face her. She took a step back as his eyes bored into hers.

This was it, the moment he had been waiting for. He had been thinking about this kiss for so long – really, if he was honest with himself, since the very first time he had suggested she would be an amazing Beatrice to his Benedick. He had tried to sound casual, like it was just a thought that had occurred to him off the cuff, but the truth was he was desperate for them to work together after Doctor Who ended, he had all but thrown himself into comic relief stints with her and wheedled his way into her Nan’s Christmas Special. Not that she had needed much convincing.

All these thoughts whirled in his head at a million miles per hour, brought up short by a word from their director.

“Peace…” prompted Josie, raising an eyebrow. It took David a full half-second to comprehend that the director was providing him a dialogue cue and not exhorting his madly beating heart to calm down. He swallowed, but when he spoke there was no trace of anxiety in his tone: Benedick was sure of himself at this juncture and sure of the affections of the lady he beheld.

“Peace.” He waited a beat, time slowing down around them in that one still moment. “I will stop thy mouth.” And then he was moving toward her with celerity.

Beatrice stumbled backwards but it was too late. Benedick’s hands were about her body, pulling her close and holding her steady as his lips crashed onto hers as gently as David could manage while still making it look like a sudden passionate clinch.

They froze for a moment, pressed together. Her mouth was so soft under his but he dared not yet move even his lips on hers. But when she didn’t demure or struggle to get away he pressed her closer, unable to help himself, his hunger for her overtaking his sense of caution. His fingers tangled in her amazingly soft hair. She murmured a quiet sound that vibrated his lips where they held hers. It was barely a moan and yet it went straight to his loins.

He risked opening his eyes a little and saw her crystal blue-green pools staring up into his, startled, almost wild with emotion. She made a little humming noise and he groaned in response, his lips moving hungrily on hers now. She filled all of his senses, it was intoxicating. Did she want this too? Could she feel the energy between them?

His mind spun in an eternity until he felt her hands alight on his back and she paused there for a moment, her touch so gentle he could barely feel it until she began sliding her palm across his shoulders and in his grasp her body slowly – painfully slowly – undulated against his.

With his height advantage she was bent backwards, his arms all the more secure around her to keep her from falling but she was still off-balance. He could feel her teetering, her arm around his neck now, trying to hold herself up so on impulse he twirled her gently in his arms, never breaking their kiss but allowing her to regain her footing and guide their trajectory across the stage.

Picking up on his cue instantly – as she always did, he had never worked with someone before who he just clicked with so perfectly – Catherine wrapped her arms more firmly around him and took some measure of control of their kiss, her lips moving against his so seductively his knees felt weak. Then her hands were on his neck with touches so intimate heat rose within him. Her caresses moved along his jaw to his cheek, leaving his skin tingling, he was lost in sensation. She moaned quietly again and it took him a moment to realize she was trying gently to pull away. He broke the kiss abruptly and found himself standing there, his arms still around her, both of them gulping for air and staring at each other in shock.

It was a long time before David even registered the sound of Josie clearing her throat.

“Well,” she said. “Well. Why don’t I just…give you two a minute…that was very, uh, passionate.” Her voice had faded to a mumble and then she was gone, the rehearsal room door swinging shut behind her.

David went back to staring at Catherine. Her face was flushed, her hair beautifully mussed from his hands, her lips slightly open as her breathing slowly returned to normal.

“You all right?” he breathed.

She nodded and her fingertips touched her lips. She looked so vulnerable in that moment that he caught his breath.

“Catherine…I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Course not,” she whispered. “I just…” She took a step toward him and laid her hands on his chest. David forgot to breathe.

“Go on,” he muttered hoarsely.

“Not sure how I am going to do that with you in front of the cast…much less an audience…” she trailed off, staring up at him, her eyes so intense.

“Pretty powerful,” he agreed. He brought his hands up to trap hers in between their bodies as he moved closer still.

“Catherine?” There had never been an opportunity quite like this one. He had to know if he was imagining things, all the touches they shared, the stolen moments together, how they stuck so closely together at every opportunity, the nights they would stay up late talking about everything and nothing. He had never had a friend like Catherine and the more he was with her the more it hurt to be apart.

“Catherine, I… how are you feeling?”

She licked her lips and glanced down, suddenly shy. He knew her like this, knew she often felt this way but rarely allowed others to see it. But with him she was free to be her real self, the nights she was quiet, almost withdrawn from the raucous cast and crew in rehearsal, he would stay closer to her and never demanded she give an explanation or force her to be chatty. If other people would try to draw her out he would casually sling an arm over her shoulder and make some excuse, leading her away. She would lean into him slightly and when he got her alone she would grace him with a small smile or a murmured ‘thank you’.

Then other days they could barely shut each other up, constantly ribbing and teasing each other, talking over each other and feeding off that unique energy he only felt when they were together.

He watched her now and simply waited, hoping Josie wouldn’t come back too soon.

“Flustered,” she said finally and he recognized the raw honesty in her answer. “But also amazing!” She smiled radiantly and his heart skipped a beat.

“Amazing,” he echoed.

“Do you think…David do you think Josie will want us to run through that more times tonight?”

He heard the anxiety in her voice.

“I mean, I can, of course we can, it’s no big deal or anything,” she added quickly, her fingers threading themselves in his shirt, sometimes slipping between the shirt buttons and sending sparks across his skin when she grazed her fingertips against his chest.

“Josie has been given us mostly free reign,” he commented, “I don’t think it will be a problem. We could always tell her we’ll just rehearse it…privately.”

He grinned. He had meant to sound seductive but Catherine’s eyebrows rose high and between the way she looked at him and his state of nerves he couldn’t hold a serious face.

Her lips quirked and her eyes were laughing. Tension never held between them for too long before their friendship broke through it.

She dropped her head on his chest. “Oh David,” her voice was muffled in his shirt. She sounded like she was still laughing at the situation but underneath it he could hear her worry.

“Hey,” he soothed, his arms coming around her and pulling her close. “We’ll work it out, we always do.”

When Josie had eventually stuck her head back in the room they were talking and laughing like normal, tripping over each other as they tried and failed to practice the choreography for the final dance of the show. It would take a while to get those steps down, it didn’t help that Catherine collapsed in helpless giggles when he had been inspired to play air guitar on his leg.

Best move he had ever made, seeing her almost cry with laughter was the absolute greatest thing he could have hoped for that evening. All the tension had evaporated by the time Josie joined them again.

But when the director had suggested another run through of the kiss scene David felt Catherine tense up beside him. She shrugged and nodded but David intervened, saying they could wait until another time, the two of them might be better to find a way to make it work between them first. Josie accepted that and they moved on. Catherine gave him a small grateful smile.

Nonetheless, David was worried now – she had tensed up so quickly, he had to do something before her nerves (and his) got out of hand, they were weeks away from opening night.

~~~

Part 2: http://akhilanda.livejournal.com/6059.html