make me dance (i want to surrender)
Jun. 6th, 2012 11:25 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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het_reccersFandom Category: (500) Days of Summer
Pairing: Summer Finn/Tom Hansen, Summer Finn/Husband (guy has no name)
Fic Title: make me dance (i want to surrender)
Author: corleones
Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/141561
Rating/Warning(s): mature
Genre: romance
WIP?: no
Why This Must Be Read: The author really nails the narrative style of the movie. It's a little airy, a little wry, a little fairy-tale, not completely in chronological order, and a little bit aloof. Exactly like the movie. And it made me really love Summer, because the movie was purposefully crafted as a one-sided narrative of Tom. This fic is Summer's version of the tale.
This is not the beginning.
This is only the meeting of two people, one of whom you already know, a little and the other? the other is a stranger to you. This is not where are our story starts. It is not the kind of story that has a particular point of beginning or middle or end; only love stories are built that way and this is not a love story. (But you knew that.) This is not even a new story, it is the continuation of one that you have heard before.
And this? This is only as good a place as any to pick it up again.
The girl, Summer Finn, is sitting in a deli on a Saturday afternoon with a book on her table and an untouched sandwich at her elbow, pages turning slowly, very slowly as if she is studying for a test. She is not studying for a test. Summer has just never been a particularly fast reader. She doesn’t like to skim things; she’s the kind of person who lingers over every word that she likes and frowns over the ones she doesn’t. There’s a slow humming noise but her lips are barely moving; her fingers tap along with the music. She is listening to The Smiths. They go up and down against the vinyl table top.
“Is that Oscar Wilde?”
Summer doesn’t look up right away.
(She’s had more than a few book related come ons in her life. They tend to prop up every time she reads Austen and while they’re usually not too offensive, they are never very original, just your run of the mill thinly veiled attempts to get her into bed. She’s learned that she gets approached a lot less if she’s reading Ayn Rand. Or Woolf. Most of those were in college, anyway. She didn’t think this kind of flirtation would survive past that age and still be acceptable in a breed of males who like to call themselves adults. Clearly she puts too much faith in the human race. )
“That’s what the jacket says, I think.”
“Well, you could be reading porn under the dust jacket.”
She turns her face up. Her eyes are wide.
“Not that I’ve ever done that,” he says, quickly. Some of the coffee he has in his hand spills on to the cuff of his sleeves. He wipes at it, hurriedly. “I knew a girl who used to. My sister, actually. I think she snuck one into Bible study, too.”
It’s a good shirt, she notes. White, blue stripes and there’s a watch around his wrist too, something thick and expensive and he looks almost too put together to be spilling coffee on his shirts and trying to pick up girls in delis by bringing up Oscar Wilde and porn.
“Right.”
Her eyebrows pull up and then down.
“May I sit here?”
It’s a warm fall afternoon. She has nothing to do, nowhere to be and it occurs to her that she hasn’t really met anyone at all in the city since she got here; only the people from work and there small circle of friends. They are all lovely people but not all that different, she realizes from her work friends back home. She remembers telling Tom that she came to Los Angeles to find something new and exciting. She thought she’d meant it back then, too.
She says yes.
The man sits down across from her. Smiles are exchanged.
This is not the beginning.
Pairing: Summer Finn/Tom Hansen, Summer Finn/Husband (guy has no name)
Fic Title: make me dance (i want to surrender)
Author: corleones
Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/141561
Rating/Warning(s): mature
Genre: romance
WIP?: no
Why This Must Be Read: The author really nails the narrative style of the movie. It's a little airy, a little wry, a little fairy-tale, not completely in chronological order, and a little bit aloof. Exactly like the movie. And it made me really love Summer, because the movie was purposefully crafted as a one-sided narrative of Tom. This fic is Summer's version of the tale.
This is not the beginning.
This is only the meeting of two people, one of whom you already know, a little and the other? the other is a stranger to you. This is not where are our story starts. It is not the kind of story that has a particular point of beginning or middle or end; only love stories are built that way and this is not a love story. (But you knew that.) This is not even a new story, it is the continuation of one that you have heard before.
And this? This is only as good a place as any to pick it up again.
The girl, Summer Finn, is sitting in a deli on a Saturday afternoon with a book on her table and an untouched sandwich at her elbow, pages turning slowly, very slowly as if she is studying for a test. She is not studying for a test. Summer has just never been a particularly fast reader. She doesn’t like to skim things; she’s the kind of person who lingers over every word that she likes and frowns over the ones she doesn’t. There’s a slow humming noise but her lips are barely moving; her fingers tap along with the music. She is listening to The Smiths. They go up and down against the vinyl table top.
“Is that Oscar Wilde?”
Summer doesn’t look up right away.
(She’s had more than a few book related come ons in her life. They tend to prop up every time she reads Austen and while they’re usually not too offensive, they are never very original, just your run of the mill thinly veiled attempts to get her into bed. She’s learned that she gets approached a lot less if she’s reading Ayn Rand. Or Woolf. Most of those were in college, anyway. She didn’t think this kind of flirtation would survive past that age and still be acceptable in a breed of males who like to call themselves adults. Clearly she puts too much faith in the human race. )
“That’s what the jacket says, I think.”
“Well, you could be reading porn under the dust jacket.”
She turns her face up. Her eyes are wide.
“Not that I’ve ever done that,” he says, quickly. Some of the coffee he has in his hand spills on to the cuff of his sleeves. He wipes at it, hurriedly. “I knew a girl who used to. My sister, actually. I think she snuck one into Bible study, too.”
It’s a good shirt, she notes. White, blue stripes and there’s a watch around his wrist too, something thick and expensive and he looks almost too put together to be spilling coffee on his shirts and trying to pick up girls in delis by bringing up Oscar Wilde and porn.
“Right.”
Her eyebrows pull up and then down.
“May I sit here?”
It’s a warm fall afternoon. She has nothing to do, nowhere to be and it occurs to her that she hasn’t really met anyone at all in the city since she got here; only the people from work and there small circle of friends. They are all lovely people but not all that different, she realizes from her work friends back home. She remembers telling Tom that she came to Los Angeles to find something new and exciting. She thought she’d meant it back then, too.
She says yes.
The man sits down across from her. Smiles are exchanged.
This is not the beginning.
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