Work Text:
Filming your very first picture had been as thrilling as it had been terrifying. The opportunity to work with the famed Buster Keaton was one that obviously you could not turn down, and the fact that he'd singled you out to be his leading lady was a compliment you'd never forget, but the fact remained that being the least experienced person in the studio on any given day wore on your nerves. Every day felt like a struggle to keep up with his breakneck speed, the way he would come up with gags on the fly and totally alter the direction of a scene at any moment. Everyone said he was a genius, and sure you believed them, but it was a difficult job.
When he explained that he'd changed one gag from the planned short tumble from a single story window to a leap from the roof into a pool with you in his arms, you took it in stride. At first. And then the two of you had been on the roof looking down at the water and you could feel the drop in the pit of your stomach.
"Oh, I don't know if I can do this," You muttered under your breath. Your character's gentle grip on his arm had turned to a terrified fistful of his sleeve.
"Of course you can," He said, his other hand rubbing your upper arm comfortingly. He sounded slightly impatient with your sudden stage fright, but he tried not to show it. "You think I'd let you drown?"
"It's not that I think you'd let me drown..."
"Listen, kid. If I didn't think it was safe, I wouldn't let ya do it." His voice was softer now, so that no one else could hear and he was leaning in so his forehead almost touched yours. You were still scared to jump, but you trusted him. You believed him.
So the camera started rolling and, gripping his hand tight, you leapt from the top roof of the house. You shrieked the whole way down and you could swear that you heard him laughing.
The water was freezing and you yelled again when you broke the surface, gasping for air. Buster was definitely laughing. In the water his hands reached for you and he held you by the waist and started helping you to the edge of the pool.
"Quit your fussin'" He laughed. "It's done now, lets get you all dried off."
Back on dry land he lamented that the audience wouldn't get to hear your "thrilling scream."
You smacked his arm, but his laugh was so nice that you couldn't stay mad.
On the day of filming for the final scene, the essential moment where Buster gets the girl, your nerves had wound themselves up so tight that you could hardly breathe as the nice woman curled your hair. You needed to talk to Mr. Keaton before filming started. You begged off once your curls were set and before she started in on makeup, saying that you needed to use the restroom real fast. The woman was impatient but allowed it and you set off in search of him.
You tapped lightly on his dressing room door, half hoping he wouldn't hear you.
"Yeah?" He called.
Stepping inside you wondered if maybe it would be better if you just turned around and left without another word. You'd told yourself every day leading up to this that it was no big deal, and that you were worrying yourself over nothing. But it was too late now, he was putting his hair comb down on the dresser and turning to face you.
"What's the matter, kid? That's some face you've got on."
"Oh." Your voice sounded stupid and small so you coughed and stood up straighter. "Here's the thing. I've never been kissed before and--"
Buster laughed "You're really going to come into my room on the day of filming the final scene and lie to me?"
"I'm..." it had never occurred to you that he might not even believe you. "I'm not lying to you Mr, Keaton."
"Buster," He corrected
"...Buster. I just, well I've been telling myself that it's fine and that I don't mind my first kiss being filmed but as it comes nearer and nearer I.."
His eyebrows pushed together and he tilted his head slightly to the side, studying your face. The scrutiny was almost painful.
"How on earth did you manage to get to your age with that face and never been kissed yet?" He asked
You shrugged, your face growing hot as you looked away from his penetrating gaze. "My father is pretty strict. Actually, this is one of the first times I've been away from family. And, well, like I said, I'm not trying to be sentimental or anything but is it right for my first kiss to be filmed and screened for everyone to see? Is it right for my first kiss to be a...a joke?"
"Well, firstly, it's not a joke. It's the triumphant happy ending of the picture. Getting the girl isn't a punchline."
"Still, you know what I mean."
"I know what you mean but I'm going to have to ask you to be a bit clearer on what it is exactly that you're asking me to do. I can't cut the scene now. It's expected, the whole picture has been leading up to it."
"I'm not askin' you to cut it, Mr. Keaton."
"Buster." he corrected again
"Buster. I'm not askin' you to cut the scene, I'm askin' you to kiss me. Here, in private." You stepped forward, your heart pounding because you couldn't take it back now, or play it cool like you'd never asked. If he refused you'd just have to live with the shame.
He seemed to take an awful long time before he spoke again.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Oh, I'm not asking you to be my sweetheart or anything. I know I couldn't ask that. We've become friends, haven't we? You like me well enough, and I don't have the false modesty to pretend not to know that you never would have chosen me if you didn't like how I looked. And, listen, I..." you lowered your voice to a whisper "I promise I wouldn't tell anyone. I just want my first kiss to be properly mine, not anyone else's. Do you understand?"
"Sure, I understand." His voice had gone all quiet and dark and you knew right away that you'd convinced him. Your heart fluttered and you thought maybe this wasn't such a brilliant idea after all. He was so beautiful and so very very close just then and surely if he kissed you you would fall in love with him.
You felt his hand at the small of your back and he gently pulled you against him. Then there was no turning back. His other hand came up to gently touch your cheek as he tilted his head. Instinctively, your eyes fluttered shut. As first his lips barely grazed yours with such a soft touch you thought you might have imagined it. You were certain there could be nothing more perfect than that until, in a sudden but fluid motion the hand on your cheek went to the back of your neck and he pulled you tighter against him and deepened the kiss so that you gasped against his mouth. Your hands, which had rested on his chest, gathered up fistfuls of his shirt as you fought to keep from trembling too noticeably in his embrace.
When he pulled away you swayed toward him and had to steady yourself on your feet once more. You kept your eyes on the ground, fighting with the blush that surely was blooming across your face.
His fingertips touched underneath your chin to tilt your face up and you held your breath as he lightly kissed your nose, then your forehead. He waited for you to look in his eyes before speaking.
"Now scram, baby, and get your face made up. We're rolling in ten minutes." The dismissal could have been cold were it not for the heat in his eyes and the unusual hoarseness in his voice.
You nodded and scurried out of his dressing room, praying that your face didn't give yourself away as you returned to your own dressing room.
In ten minutes time, he kissed you again, this time for the world to see. And damn, but you were grateful for the rehearsal.