A.N. So this is my first shot at fanfiction in a while. I used to write it all the time for Star Wars, but I'm not really into that anymore. So here I am writing a little mediator story. I hope you enjoy. Please R&R!
It was finally Friday afternoon. I carelessly dropped my book bag onto my bed with an exasperated sigh. Slowly, I forced my aching joints to allow myself to lie on the cold wood floor. I felt the chill of the absence of humanity on my back. The shock in temperature was somehow soothing.
I was dead tired. Okay, perhaps dead wasn't the right word. I knew all too well what dead was like. Either way, the long week had drained me. But surprisingly, it was not due to ghost busting. School had actually gotten to me this week, since all of my teachers had finally realized we only had a month of school left and that it was necessary to somehow squeeze in the entire curriculum. Wonderful.
But again, it was Friday afternoon, and I continued to spend it lying on the floor on my turn-of-the-century (note the nineteenth, not the twentieth) bedroom. The rest of my family, however, was not doing the same.
Sleepy had recently discovered the joy of staying in a college dorm, and rarely graced us with his presence anymore, not that I cared. He showed up about once a week for one of Andy's famous gourmet dinners, but I think that was only out of guilt. Dopey was on a "church retreat", also known as on a road trip to L.A. for plenty of drinking and scantily clad women. Pig. Doc was on a little camping trip with all of his buds. Even the dog had gone with him. I found it cute. Andy and my mom were taking the opportunity to go on a little get away to Mexico for…ew.
Anyway, that left me, the house, and an uneventful Friday night.
I hadn't quite been given the gift of silence yet though. I heard my mom and Andy scrambling to do some last minute packing and desperate little cries of, "Where are the tickets?"
By this time, my body had overtaken the chill of the wood floor. Though I would have liked to find a cool spot, I was too tired to move.
Only my head was able to lift itself up to look at my throbbing feet. I had on some adorable white Prada flats, which I had purchased at a mere fraction of the original price. Too bad they brought hell to my feet.
I must have laid there for another twenty minutes before I heard my mom yell up the stairs, "We're off, Suze! The resort number is on the fridge!"
Of course it was. I couldn't possibly enter the number into my serious lack of a cell phone.
Nevertheless, I managed a loud "okay" to confirm that I had heard her. That had taken way too much effort on my part.
I heard the door slam and the lock turn. I thought I had found silence.
Soon though, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and my bedroom door slowly creaked open.
"Querida?"
Suddenly, the pain rushed out of my body, and I realized that there truly was a heaven.
I began to lift myself up immediately to see the face of perfection.
"No," Jesse said, "Don't move, Susannah. You're tired."
And how could I not listen to such a strong yet gentle voice?
I felt Jesse's solid arms slide under my legs and back as he lifted me off of the floor with the utmost care. He carried me over to the window seat and set me down. Damn. I wanted him to keep holding me like that forever. Luckily, though, he sat down next to me, and I soon found my way onto his lap. The whole thing was simply perfect, sitting there being surrounded by him, I mean. I turned my face towards his and subtly began to lean in for what I wanted so badly…
"How was your day, querida?"
Talking. Jesse was way too into talking, but his other qualities made up for it.
Still, I sighed a bit before I spoke.
"Tiring," I replied in my best damsel-in-distress voice, hoping my knight in shining armor would kiss all of my troubles away, "They're really wanting us to push our studies hard as the end of the year gets closer. I'm just about burnt out."
Jesse was about to reply in that smooth and silky voice of his, but I pounced at the opportunity to distract him from talking. I seductively placed one finger over his godly lips.
"And do you know what you could do to make me feel so much better?" I asked, not expecting or desiring a verbal reply.
Jesse only smiled knowingly and slipped his hands around my waist.
And then our lips met in pure bliss as I began to run my fingers through his dark hair. I felt his strong chest rise and fall against mine as I drew myself even closer to him. I can't even explain the joy of knowing he was breathing. Really. Knowing that was having no worries. His hand had just found its way in to my shirt (thank God!) when a voice interrupted our moment in heaven.
"Sorry to bother you." There was more than a twang of sarcasm.
I reluctantly separated my lips from Jesse's and turned to the source of the sound.
And there, in the middle of bedroom, was Paul Slater, surrounded by an eerie glow.
