Disclaimer: I do not own The Clique, Grey's Anatomy or The New York Times.
Author's Note: This fic was written for pantherscheer2010 for the Secret Santa Fic Exchange, Clique Style! challenge. Enjoy!
KISS ME
-A Clique fanfic by Honour Society-
Prompts used: a Santa hat, some kind of thing where the boys/girls meet up, the characters being in high school and (one) pop culture refrences...
Cam
"Kiss me," he said. Finally everything faded away. In this moment, the world had stopped, everyone and everything held their breath waiting for her response. So why wasn't she saying anything? Was it because of Claire, the petite blonde with whom he had broken up and gotten back together with twelve times (and counting) since seventh grade? And they were only in ninth. Or maybe it was that quiet Irish poet-dude who was doing an exchange program with Westchester High?
Massie
Massie had broken some hearts in her lifetime. Heck, she'd broken a lot. But breaking the heart of her best friend? Claire, who took any dare, who wore puffy coats in the winter and frayed Converse in the summer, who loved every person unconditionally no matter what they had done to her. Massie tilted her head a tad so she was gazing directly into his navy blue eye.
Cam
When that girl looked at you, stared at you (longingly?), it was all you could do not to grab her roughly and kiss her softly. But he waited. He would wait until his words computed in her head, clicked into place. So, he brushed his fingertips along her bare, tanned, arms and waited.
Massie
His touch electrified her, mystified her, and killed her all at once. It was so sweet, so sad, and even kind of pathetic, how he just stood there with her, blocking the door of the walk-in supply closet he had brought her to. At the time, he had spilled a can of Coke Zero down the front of Massie's Irish boyfriend, Sean's tuxedo shirt and, repeatedly apologizing, dragged Massie by her wrist to the supply closet to go get a cloth and some stain remover.
Cam
So, what if he had poured carbonated liquid down Sean O'Connor's shirt? Who cared? He was practically ruining Massie's Christmas party. It should've been Cam Fisher dancing with her, kissing her, holding her, not some random Irish guy who made everything that came out of his pouty-lipped mouth sound sexy and cool and beautiful. He had written her a freakin' holiday poem about true love, nightingales (which happened to be Massie's favourite bird. Who knew?) and twinkling stars. How could he compete with that?
Massie
Truth be told, the way to her heart was not through sappy love poems (she'd known the guy for three months, she barely knew him, let alone loved him!) nor was it through singing holiday raps in front of everyone she knew à la Cam. It was through friendships, then through sleepless nights wondering if it would amount to more, then sweet kisses out by the pier in the Hampton's, going together to proms, formals and semi-formals. Gawd, if only she could write a manual: How To: The Way To Massie Block's Heart so all the guys after her could do it and do it right! Heck, it would probably top the New York Times Bestseller's list!
Cam
"Uh. So? Mass?" Those three words, if you could call them that, were all he could think to say. He would wait, but he would not wait forever. He wasn't Derek from Grey's Anatomy who would probably be maybe-sorta in love with Meredith for ten seasons. Not that he watched Grey's Anatomy… Claire made him watch it!
Massie
"What?" Massie said, cocking her head just-so to the side. She let her amber eyes wander, hoping it would play up the dumbness factor. It worked for Olivia Ryan. Her eyes fell upon some odd, random objects around the closet. A Santa hat, a half-empty bottle of Windex, a Polaroid photo of two skinny, blond, girls flipping their hair for the camera, and several brooms of varying sizes and colours.
Cam
Now it was his turn to avert his gaze. 'What?' WHAT????!!! After all he had said (okay, so he'd only said…five words but they were far more meaningful!) that was all she could answer. Not "yes" "no" "maybe" "I hate you, Cam Fisher", just "what?" Cam sighed in frustration, sliding down the door until he was sitting cross-legged, the pretty brunette crossing her arms. He couldn't read body language, but if he could, her position would say only bad things.
Massie
Shrugging her shoulders slightly, she crouched down, so they were almost eye-to-eye. No way was she, wearing a red velvet gown, about to let her butt touch this dirty floor. Now way. On yaw, as Kristen would say. "Cam. Cam-" she started again, clearing her throat, this time sure of what she would say, "I know you're upset. Upset that I couldn't say yes and throw my self at you. But I can't. 'Cuz as much as would love to, don't forget, I want this as much as you do, this isn't the end of the world. When you finally cave and let me out, we have lives to go back to. I have to go cry through some more of Sean's poems and you have to kiss Claire and tell her to stop eating those crap cakes! Okay? Are we cool?"
Cam
Wow, that was a lot for one boy to handle. One hormonally-charged teenage boy, who, for him, serious meant forgetting his soccer cleats and getting a verbal whipping from Coach Khan. "Wow."
Massie
"Now, it's my turn to be upset. 'Wow'? Cam Fisher, blabbermouth extraordinaire, prone to verbal diarrhoea can only say 'wow." Massie smiled once she saw Cam grin sheepishly. He always, always knew what to say. Even during a test that he totally wasn't prepared for, he could just crack a joke and the whole world would laugh with him.
Cam
…
Massie
"Kiss me." And so they did.
Everyone else
Back in the main hall, everyone was wondering why it had taken them so long to bring back the cleaning supplies. By now, Sean O'Connor's shirt was fully soaked through and it would take some hand washing from his host family's maid, Cara, to get it out.
"Ehmagawd, where is Massie? It's time for the final dance," Alicia Rivera feigned a look of confusion and concern, when really, she had locked the closet door ages ago. Ha. Take that Massie Block! For once, all eyes will be on the Spanish Queen of Dance instead of the American Queen of Ice.
"And Cam?" Claire Lyons added, chewing on her fingernails, which Massie had "encouraged" (which was Block-talk for forced) her to get French manicured.
"Dunno," Dylan Marvil said, grabbing several celery sticks from the banquet table, double-dipping them in ranch dressing and stuffing them down her mouth, "Sucks to be them though. This place is huge, they prob'ly got lost."
Alicia hooked arms with Josh Hotz, who despite being in black-tie dress, still wore his Yankees cap, and led him onto the dance floor. Her hips swayed from side-to-side, her hair blew around her angelic face, and her custom-made black lace gown hugged her curves in all the right places. Yes, she cheered inwardly, all eyes are on me! Alicia, the Alpha. All is right with this messed-up universe for once! For once!
Cam & Massie
Massie licked her lips, just tasting a hint of Candy Cane, Glossip Girl's special holiday flavour. Who knew how long they had been in there, kissing, just kissing, none of this groping-stuff that players liked Derrington enjoyed. Kissing. Cam couldn't suppress his grin, even though he knew how childish it was. Massie was licking her lips, wasn't he entitled to a little toothy grin?
"That was-" he started, before being shushed by Massie, who promptly cut him off.
"Wrong."
"But so right," he finished.
Sixty years later...
"Maybe the world didn't fade away that night, or maybe it did. But all the stars had aligned just right and, no lies, the moon was full," Cam Fisher told his grandkids as he rocked back and forth in his antique rocking chair.
"Grandpa! What happened next? You have to tell us," Hannah Fisher, eight, begged, tugging on the hem of his pleated pant leg.
"Yeah, yeah!" Echoed the other kids.
"Maybe another night. Right now grandpa has to use the restroom. Maybe another night…"
The author says: So? Whaddaya think? I tried my very bestest panther. Yum, cherry-flavoured candy canes... Also, sorry for the majorly cliched title!