Title: Anyway We Can

Fandom: Pushing Daisies

Pairing: Ned/Chuck

PDPlaytime Prompt: So I love you because I know no other way

Disclaimer: I only own these characters in my thoroughly romantic, yet twisted imagination

Over time, the Piemaker had gotten used to the sudden jolt, the instantaneous pulse of energy that accompanied bringing someone back to life. As he explained it to Emerson, it felt like the zap of static electricity that comes from walking across a shag carpet in fuzzy socks—only magnified by 100. That didn't mean Ned liked the feeling, but it didn't, well, shock him anymore. In fact, after a few months of working with the knitting detective, it became almost routine. Almost.

Yet all that experience didn't prepare him for what happened when he brought a girl named Chuck back to life. This time, instead of a concentrated tingling traveling up his finger and partway into his hand, his whole body felt like a conduit for a block-wide power surge. And yet, there was also a warmth and calm to its center that puzzled him.

Looking back, he wondered if the intensity of touching her had anything to do with the fact that Chuck was the most alive person he knew. Perhaps that's why he had felt as though, in some crazy way, he had also come back to life in that moment.

That's what made it magical.

--

Chuck had given this a lot of thought. Really a lot. True, touch wasn't the most important part of any amorous relationship, but why then did it seem so interwoven with all the emotions she had for Ned? (And the more she thought about it, the fact that the word "feeling" could mean both touch and emotion couldn't be a coincidence, could it?) It also explained why her thoughts of the Piemaker were not just romantic ones of holding hands or falling asleep in his arms, but about how his tongue would taste, the urgent press of his hands on the small of her back as he pulled her closer and their bare chests rubbing against each other.

Sometimes the need, the thought without the action, consumed her mind and body so that she wondered if she would spontaneously combust.

And she knew she had to do something about these thoughts because Ned wouldn't. Which didn't make sense because every time he looked at her, she clearly saw the yearning in his eyes. Yet he always advocated staying on the safe side of the line. In fact, a good two or three feet away from the line, muttering words such as "dead" and "forever" as if it were a mantra that would make not touching somehow bearable. She knew it was only a matter of time before not only would his mantra not work, it would tear them apart.

That's why she'd come up with alternatives–kissing through food wrap and dancing in bee suits–modifications that bent, but did not actually cross that fatal line. So "anyway we can" became her mantra.

Which is why she finally decided to take action, planning every detail of her assault. Hair into a tight bun, every strand under strict orders to stay put. PJs with long sleeves and pants, socks for good measure. Only when crossing the room to his bed did she feel those butterflies, this time causing hurricanes in her stomach. "Anyway we can," she thought, gaining strength and resolve from the words.

After handing him a thin set of long-sleeved gloves, she put a similar pair on her hands. They used these gloves to hold hands while watching TV, but they'd never used them in the bedroom. Seeing the look of alarm on his face, she simply and calmly said: "Being an 'us' with special circumstances just means we have to be creative."

"Chuck, you know that--"

She cut off his sentence with a food wrap kiss. She could feel the tension in his shoulders melting as the tips of their tongues skirted around the micro-thin barrier. While she couldn't taste him, she could feel the warmth of his lips as they pressed firmer and harder against hers. God, the way he kissed made her whole body tingle in way that always made her crave more. She felt his hands at her waist, first loose then more pressing.

She lay down on his bed and, before he could object, said, "Yes, we will be very careful, I promise."

Her words didn't fully remove his worried expression, but he lay down next to her. And for a moment they were still. Chuck felt as though she were set to jump off a cliff and only needed his arms there to catch her. She wanted to touch all of him, even if it was through a fabric barrier. Her hands rubbed his back in slow circles and she felt him tremble slightly. Was it from fear or anticipation?

"Anyway we can."

--

Ned felt Chuck's hand slide down his back to below his waist. Her fingers glided over this pajama-covered cheeks. Don't lose control, he thought, don't lose control. He knew how quickly instinct could take over. One slight brush, one tiny patch of skin on skin contact and he'd lose her.

"Dead. Forever."

Only this time, thinking the words couldn't stop his hand from running from her waist to her shoulders and back again. Oh God, her curves were intoxicating. Her freshly washed hair smelled of apples and soap.

Suddenly, through no clear plan of his own, his gloved hands caught the bottom of her pajama top and he felt only the layer of his gloves between them. He knew they should stop, but how could he? Now he was beyond thought, in a place where only feeling existed. All he could feel was her, so warm and inviting. And he couldn't help but accept her invitation. She had started this, but he knew how to finish it.

Chuck couldn't believe it when Ned—her shy, stubborn Ned—raised her top slightly in front, then moved the plastic wrap to her stomach. With each soft and slow kiss to her bare belly, her body reacted as if he had discovered uncharted erogenous zones. Who knew kisses on her stomach could make her heart race and her breathing speed up? Stopping for a moment, he looked at her with that familiar longing expression, now mixed with a new hunger.

If this is all they could have, she would be fine, but no, she wanted more. She reached up and unbuttoned her shirt.

"Anyway we can."

She waited to see if he'd be shocked. Instead, he slowly and lightly brushed one hand over her left breast. She moaned and felt her body ignite as he circled her nipple with a gloved hand, the texture of the fabric catching a little on its tip, intensifying the sensation. Then the plastic moved a little higher and now his kisses caused ripples of joy throughout her body.

This was the Ned of her dreams— those sexier, dirty dreams she had almost every night. Oh yes, this is what she'd been wanting for so long now. She knew it for sure when his gloved hand slipped into her pants and she separated her thighs to welcome him.

Oh God, please don't let this be a dream, she thought as pleasure overwhelmed her senses. And if it is, don't let it ever end.

--

Ned could feel her every breath, which was now rapid, almost panting. Her face, filled with intense bliss, was so beautiful. Never before had he felt as fully in the present as he did now, stroking the wet softness of her.

Then she arched her back and cried out, one hand tearing at his pajamas. And for the second time, he felt that jolt, that overwhelming surge of life force mixed with a warmth he now knew was love.

And he didn't want it to ever stop.

A/N: Thanks to fireworkfiasco for showing how VERY sexy gloves can be!