Appreciation
Disclaimer: Dan Schneider owns VicTORIous and I don't.
A/N: Well, then . . . something fluffy and Bade and probably an idea that pretty much everyone has thought of, maybe. My first Vic Fic. Enjoy!
She had grace. It was nothing boastful and she wasn't bragging- though she would've liked to- but it was true. She simply had grace, her own natural elegance.
No, it wasn't girly and prissy like the one she, to some extent, had admitted that Tori "I-love-to-freaking-whip-my-hair-around-when-I-sing-with-that-absolutely-angelic-voice-of-mine" Vega contained.
Nope.
Her grace was her personality . . . it was her kinks, her traits, her attitudes. It was her style, her flaws (not like she had any, though), her . . . aggression.
But all of that, all of it, dissipated when she was alone with Beck.
They could've been anywhere: the mall, his RV, his car, but when she was with him, her palms would sweat exasperatingly and she would feel panicked because they didn't normally do that . . . . or something that gross.
When she was alone with him, she would lose her attitude and become . . . coy, avoiding the soft eyes that contained so much compassion because of the way it made her feel.
Loved.
A sensation almost foreign to her.
She was different with Beck . . . because he loved her for being her, opposing all others who despised her for being a somewhat-bully.
Her toughness diminished too, around him; she felt no need whatsoever to be hard and irritable when she was with him.
Why should she? No one would really know what she was like when she was by herself, anyway, and Beck was the only person who saw her with brown hair, even if it was dyed black, because he truly saw her for real. For who she was.
Since he was the only one who actually understood. Which was one of the things that she appreciated most about him.
Appreciation . . . it was a game that they played often, seated cross-legged in the grass outside of his RV.
"Jade," He would lean forward and take her hands in his, something that caused her to involuntarily blush, but cover her stupid timidity with a brash arch of an eyebrow, "tell me something you like about me."
She would smirk cockily, as all of her personality was not . . . moderated. "You mean besides your hair?"
His smile would melt her insides as he stroked her fingers fondly. "A'yup. Besides that."
It would always be easy. She'd never have to rack her brain. "I like your eyes. They're . . . enthralling." And comforting, deep pools of brown that I could stare into until the end of forever. "Now tell me something."
"I like your . . . personality." He would lift her hand to his lips and murmur, "My fiery, little babe."
That would amuse her to some extent. "I love your mouth. You've got some feisty lipwork that I value, there, Beck."
"I love your voice . . . your singing." He would pause to stare at her for a moment, tracing soft fingertips along her lips and giving her a little tremor inside. "You know that voice you mock Tori with? You sing kinda like that."
Teal eyes would narrow. "You're saying that I sing like how Ms. I'm So Perfect talks?"
It was something she didn't want to hear . . . that she never wanted to hear: to be compared to Vega.
"No," he'd say quietly. "You . . . your voice is rich, better than hers in a way. Your keys can go higher. You sing . . . like Jade."
She wanted to lean into him- his tone was just so enticing at times and she . . . she just loved it, loved him that there weren't any words in which she could express it enough.
She averted her eyes, plucking absently at the grass underneath. "I . . . I love that you're with me, Beck, when you could've had anyone else. Probably not as good as me, but seriously. I love that you kiss me and touch me and like me alone."
He would blink, seeming somewhat taken aback by her declaration of gratitude. And then his mouth would lift at the corners, brown eyes radiating with such ardor and warmth.
His gaze would set her face on fire and she would turn so that he wouldn't notice her redness . . . or the vibrant desire that she had felt for him then.
He was just so charming and real that it was . . . fantastic.
"Your turn, Beck," She'd mutter purposely loudly to interrupt him from whatever "I'm-So-Glad-You-Said-That-To-Me" thoughts he was most likely having about her.
But then, she was always sure that he'd seen the tint in her face when he would cup one of her cheeks in his hand in a way that forced her to look at him.
"Hey. Hey now, Jade, you don't have to do that." One of his gentle fingers brushed a highlighted strand of hair from her eyes. "Not with me."
"Yeah, well, all I ever do it with is you anyway, dumbass," She'd counter stubbornly.
"Hey," He'd flick her teasingly on the nose. "Jade. Watch that pretty, little mouth of yours.
"Beck. Watch the limit on how many times you forget when it's your turn. Before I get impatient."
He'd give the most handsome grin, (classic of him to take her threats lightly) the kind that seriously jacked with her heart rate and sent it speeding by miles in her chest.
"I didn't forget, Jade. It's just difficult to tell you only one thing I like about you. Because one hardly covers it all."
The flame in her cheeks would grow as he'd begin to rub her arms up and down, causing the hairs to rise. Her turquoise gaze would avert as she tried to twist away again.
I am Jade West. I do not blush, I do not get embarrassed, and nobody can make me. Because I am a boss.
Nobody except Beck Oliver.
It was constantly rather annoying when he would grab her back to face him for a second time. Persistent little bitch.
"Jade, I told you to knock it off," He'd say softly.
"I'll knock off your head." Something callous and sharp would always glide off of her tongue, no matter her mood.
He'd raise a challenging eyebrow, but she wouldn't do anything about it, something atypical of her alone, but when she amid Beck, she was all about atypical.
"Your turn," She'd hate how nearly inaudible and shy her voice would sound.
He would then get so close that she could smell his intoxicatingly delicious cologne . "I love you . . . everything about you. You're tough, you're exquisite, you're bold, and so freaking hilarious at times.
"I love that you're strong-willed and your style . . . . You're so creative, Jade, and I love you. Not one thing. All. Just you."
Her body would burn gallingly, along with her face, practically itching for him . . . craving for him.
She would unconsciously inch forward to get closer.
He'd laugh and run a ran through his dark mane with something akin to tension edging his voice. "Jeez . . . too cheesy, huh? Not really one for words, I guess. 'S a lot better when I'm acting . . . ."
It really wouldn't matter to her if he wasn't one for words. Never to her because it always sounded as if he was; he was the only one to ever tell her something like that, the only one capable of catching her whenever she actually tripped over something that wasn't always physical.
His words were what she trusted.
Her breath would begin to come faster, her body excruciatingly warm. She . . . her emotion for him couldn't be topped.
What she needed . . . was his mouth on hers.
"Can you-?" She'd catch herself, realizing how pathetic and stupid it sounded to ask to be kissed.
He'd blink that sexy blink, as if understanding why she was so flustered . . . as if getting the ordeal of what she wanted.
"Aw, Jade," He'd chuckle jokingly, pulling her forward into his lap and resting his hands intimately around her waist. "You're too kind. You don't have to ask, babe."
She would wrinkle her nose and make a face, hissing, "What makes you think I was going to?" before clenching a fistful of his checkered, flannel shirt to bring his face nearer to hers.
Their lips would lock, the exhilarated feeling exploding within her chest and depriving her lungs of air.
His lips were regularly warm against hers, tender and all that she needed. She didn't like to be touched, but Beck massaging her sides like he did, the contentment it had shockingly given her . . . only he could've changed her mind.
Her breathing was in sync with his, their chests both pressed against each other's. He was always so soft with her, as if she were fragile, when they were alone, kissing her unlike the heated passion that they displayed at school.
His fingers would be so kind to her, stroking affectionately her cheeks and hair. Her arms were around his neck, seating on his stern shoulders.
She was so tired- he always made her so tired with all the sentiment and infatuation he caused her to experience. All of the built up love she was feeling, all of the intense devotion . . . was just let so in such a surge that it was overwhelming. So exhausting and too damn emotional and . . . she would start to cry, her throat constricting, and the tears leaking slowly from her closed, blue-green eyes, where they dropped steadily onto Beck's fingers.
She wouldn't sob. Jade never sobbed.
And she hadn't consciously figured that she was capable of the term known as crying so unnecessarily since before she kissed like that for the first time.
So gently, so tenderly . . . as if she were truly loved.
The tears, the salty droplets of water would begin to stream more freely as she prolonged to move her mouth over his.
She'd wish that he would just ignore it, hoped that he would just disregard the stupid, wet substance that was trickling onto him and running her makeup.
She wanted him to just kiss her without end so he wouldn't see her like that.
But he would always try to stop, attempt to pull away lightly, and she would cling to him desperately, kissing him more vigorously.
"Jade," He'd murmur against her lips, aiming to separate.
Her fingers would entangle themselves in his hair. "Don't. Don't look."
"I don't have to." He would reach up and wipe a jewel of water from one of her cheeks. "I know you're crying."
And then Jade would reluctantly part from him and duck her head anyway, despite that he knew.
His breath would tickle her neck as he mouth came down to her ear, his arms wrapping securely around her back and drawing her close, whispering, "Are you ok, Jade? I didn't hurt you, did I? Was I too rough? I'm sorry."
He hadn't been rough with her. He never was and she was ever so thankful of that.
"Yeah . . . I-I'm fine." Stuttering was so not her style, but it couldn't be helped. "And don't be. Don't be sorry. I don't ever want to hear you sorry for what you do to me, Beck, because I . . . I love it so much."
His lips would graze the top of her head, affection dousing his words: "I love you so much."
"I know." The usual smirk, though a few notches weaker, accompanied her face. "Why wouldn't you?"
And when he'd shrug, she'd feel it again . . . the sense that he loved her, accepted her, and would never not love her . . . .
Appreciation.
That was what the sense was, the feeling that tugged perpetually at her heart.
A/N: I'm terrible at endings . . . I never know how to end it off, despite the 20 other fics I've written. Hmm . . . not too sappy, I hope. And please tell me if Jade or Beck are/aren't too OOC. Read and review please!