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Falling Stars	By : johnnysgirl Category: Individual Celebrities > Johnny Depp Views: 8218 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Johnny Depp. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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-Falling Stars
Disclaimer: Roses are Red, Violets are blue…I no own…so you no sue.
Rating: R
Pairing: Johnny Depp/OFC
Enjoy - it's my first fic so I'm not sure what it will turn out like. Please review! (I generally can’t stand ‘actor’ ficks, but I woke up one mog ang and thought, hey! What the Hell?)

I'm so green, it's really amazing
I'm so clean, too bad I can't get all the dirt off of me.
I'm so sane, it's driving me crazy
It's so strange, I can't believe it
Feels just like I'm falling for the first time
~Barenaked Ladies

Pie and Pictures

I sat on the carpeted steps of the landing, sharing a cigarette with Willy. The older man was telling me at full volume about the history of his family and how they’d come across to Canada. This might have been educational, had I been able to comprehend any of it. The only words I caught were “potato famine” and “boat.” Naturally, my mind began to wander. It was Christmas Eve. I was alone. Well, not really, I had this large, boisterous, drunk Irishman for company…better than nothing, I supposed. The kids were is France, with Vanessa. I took another puff of my cigarette (or ‘fag’ as Willy called them…)
It was inevitable, I reminded myself. For more than a year now our relationship had been dwindling, until one day it ceased to exist all together. We’d agreed that it would be best for the kids to continue living with her in France. Suddenly, a hard clap on the shoulder woke me from my reverie
“’N then them blighters at th’ border went ‘n made a right bloody hames of it all – aye yer a nice lookin’ feller, ye got yerself a mot?”
“A what?”
“A mot, lad.”
“Sorry?”
“A burd, a dame, a lass…ye got yerself a gurl mate?”
I took another puff.
“Not at the moment.”
“Ah, what ye waitin’ on then, there’s plenty of ‘em out there…I know them blow in’s aint got much t’ culchies back where yer prob’bly from but cop on ye, ‘n get on wit’ it ye bloody plonker!”

I stared. There was barley a word of that which I could honestly claim to have understood. The man seemed to take my silence as disapproval.

“No? What ’bout a nice Irish bird then?”

I considered this. Truthfully, I couldn’t think of any Irish girls who I’d had the pleasure of meeting.

“I don’t think I know any…”

Willy considered this. “Well…there’s Naintiti…she’s right pretty…a mite young though...”

I grinned, remembering the girl who’d shaken my hand earlier. She was pretty…petite, perfectly proportioned, and had a lovely smile to boot.
Willy laughed richly, gauging my reaction.

“t’would do ‘er good t’ave a nice lad like ye…we worry, me ‘n Maggie, …spends so much of ‘er life skippin’ roun’ th’ country shootin’ them bloody picture shows…we worry that she’ll wind up alone.”

“There are worse things…” I took another drag on my cigarette. “She’s in film you said?”

“Aye…” He replied, almost forlornly.
“Which ones?” I inquired curiously.
“Dunno…there’s this one where she’d t’dye ‘er air ‘n dress like a bleedin’ brasser…engaged to a docter fer a while too…dunno what ‘append t’im.”

“Wully! Fer Christ’s Sakes th’ Chicken’s almost done ‘n the spuds are getting’ cold! Will ye give me a ‘and carry ‘em t’ the table then…”

“I’m a comin”

“And ye, Naintiti’s fella, come ‘n give-”
“’E’s not Naititi’s fella”
“Well, both of ye follow me…and Wully, fer God’s Sakes we’ve got guests! Go ‘n put on another pair ‘o trousers!”
“What’s wrong with me trousers?”
“They’ve got a hole it the asre!”
“Bloody hell woman! Fine! I’ll change ‘em!”
As Willy began to mount the stairs (this was a slow process, due to his earlier alcohol consumption.) I followed Maggie into the kitchen.

There were about six women chattering away in what seemed to be a medley of English and Gaelic. My eye was drawn to the one in the far corner, the girl, Niantiti. She really was lovely. Her apricot colored hair was short and casual, stray pieces falling haphazardly into her face. She was concentrating hard on something, stirring what looked like pie filling. She must have heard me, because she looked up suddenly, wearing an expression similar to that of a deer in the headlights. Pretty face too, I noted. She had deep green eyes and a pert upturned nose. Her lips twitched, forming an endearing smile under my scrutiny.
I returned it. She blushed faintly, returning her attention to the pie.

“You’re grandfather’s an interesting fellow.” I supplied, in an attempt to make conversation.
She laughed, “That, he is…I hope he didn’t corrupt you too much.”
Before I could respond, Maggie had thrust several large, ceramic pots into my arms and bid me put them on the table.
Dinner was on. I deliberately situated myself next to the girl, Niantiti, confident that she would be able to tell me what the rare and wonderful Irish dishes being served contained. There were nearly 12 people sitting around the little table…and the noise they produced was astounding. The meal was served with large quantities of alcohol, and quite a bit of gravy. I chatted with Niantiti, who insisted on my calling her ‘Finn’, feeling unusually unsure of myself. Dinner was being cleared away when Willy suddenly burst into song. Several of the robust, redheaded, raucous people around him joined in. I returned my attention to the girl, Finn, who was smiling.
There was something about that smile.
It was so pure, so innocent…such soft, fragile, untouched lips.
Kissable…
I complemented that smile, only to be greeted with a politely puzzled expression.
“I don’t really know how to play these kinds of games Mr. Depp.” She said, looking a bit abashed.
By, ‘these kinds of games’ I could only assume she meant flirting. I grinned in spite of myself. This was probably fortunate, I figured, thinking of the devastation she could reap on the male population if she ever bothered to learn.
“It’s Johnny”
She smiled broadly, “Alright, Johnny.”

I cleared away the plates happily, doing the best I could to suppress my glee. I had just eaten supper in the company of Johnny Depp! What was more, I’d downright flirted with him. Flirting wasn’t really my style…I’d said as much.
I dumped the dishes unceremoniously in the sink, much to my grandmother’s disapproval. I cleaned, scrubbed, and dried, walking on air all the while. My bubble of euphoria popped, however, when I went in search of Johnny and Grandpa, only to find them stationed before the living room television looking at albums of what were no doubt naked baby pictures of me. I seized the album, relieved to find that the shots (which were indeed of me) had been taken at my ninth birthday…when I was fully dressed. Johnny chuckled, guessing what had prompted my reaction.
“Alright…no more of these” I said, chucking the album back into its box. I snuggled myself onto the couch, between Johnny and my grandfather. Johnny *fucking* Depp! I thought with a grin. *Fucking* being the keyword…
No. Bad. Stop it.
We’d been watching the game for a few minuets when my grandmother came in. “Wully, would ye come ‘n ‘ave a look at th’ sink, she’s buggered up sommit terrible-”
“Ah! Blast damn woman! The game’s just getting’ good!”
“What’s th’ score?”
“Celts ‘ave two points on us…bloody Celtic…always playin’ dirty! Ah! No! They put th’ Canadian in!”
“Wully! Yer kids are Canadian fer Christ sake!”
“Aye and they’re terrible footballers th’ lot o’ ‘em.”
He gave a resigned sigh, getting up off the couch and following my grandmother. I looked over at Johnny, horrified to see him leafing through what looked like a scrapbook…I had no idea what other potentially embarrassing paraphernalia my grandparents might have put in there, I tried to grab it. He lifted it easily out of my reach.

“Don’t worry,” He said with a trademark charming smile. “No naked baby photos in here.”

I looked across. He was right, of course. The book contained what appeared to be newspaper clippings. Reviews, I realized, they were reviews of my movies. My grandparents had never said a word about it. They never talked about my being an actress. I’d always thought they were ashamed. Ashamed that I wasn’t something more respectable. In Gaelic, as in many other languages, the word for ‘actress’ is the same as the word for prostitute. I’d always thought this was their attitude. I was shocked. They’d done this? They’d kept an album of my reviews? This touched me so much that I completely overlooked the fact that Johnny Depp was *reading* said reviews. Finally, he snapped the book shut.
“Impressive…So you worked with Chris?”
He was referring to Christopher Westra, who I’d worked with briefly in a film called Lantana. I nodded, “Great guy, he’s completely insane though.”
Johnny grinned. “And I suppose you know insanity fairly well then…”
I rolled my eyes. “It runs in the family.”
“I’ve got pictures of him, one with a lampshade on his head…I think I brought them…they’re at my hotel…”
“You’re staying at a hotel? Why?”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Because my other option is staying here, for one thing, and two, I have to be here for a shoot, which means my accommodations are covered through the production budget. What about you? Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with your family at Christmas?”
He laughed dryly, and I had the distinct impression that I’d touched a sensitive nerve.
“Well, for one thing,” He said mimicking my tone, “My Family consists basically of my kids who live with there mother in France, and for another, I have to be here meet with a casting director on Boxing Day.”
“Sounds like fun.”

The remainder of the evening was fairly normal, or, as normal as an evening spent with a movie icon can be. We lounged in front of the fire in the den, drinking red wine and toasted bits of bread on salad forks. I watched the glow of the fire, a flickering orange against his skin. He was beautiful. I’d know men who we handsome, but this was different. It was a deep intensity that radiated from those chocolate eyes. I loved him, in that moment, I really did. Captivated, enthralled, enchd…ind…infatuated. Yes. That was the word, ‘infatuation’…to be desperately in love with someone…for no discernable reason.
It was late. “Where are you staying?” I asked, stifling a yawn.
“At the Hilton.” He responded with a warm smile.
“Are you serious?” I asked, jumping with surprise.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just…I’m staying there too…fourth floor.”
“Fifth”
“What?”
“I’m on the fifth floor.”
“Oh.”
I stood, somewhat groggily. “Well, I should really call us a cab then…”

A few minuets later, the cab pulled up. Johnny and I my my grandparents and other relations farewell before stepping out into the crisp, December evening. We’d only managed a few steps before Johnny turned back, muttering something about his glasses. In his absence, I stared up at the stars. I was a lucky girl. Johnny Depp had sat through dinner with me. Johnny Depp haasteasted bread on a stick with me, and now Johnny Depp was about to share a cab with me all the way across town. A warm hand clasped mine. I laughed, and spun to face its owner. He stared at me for a long time, as if taking in every detail of my face. I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks, and I fidgeted beneath his scrutiny. Somewhere far away a car horn honked.
“We should go.” He said softly, reluctantly tearing his gaze from mine. As we made our way towards the taxi, his arm wound itself snugly around my waste. I didn’t mind at all.

Am I evil? Yes. Yes I am. MORE TME!!ME!! (and the smut you’ve all been waiting for…)
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Falling Stars