Action

I do not own Kick Buttowski and I never will. It is in great, talented hands.

Summary: Gunther internally struggles to explain and comprehend how he feels and Kick has the same issues, so they just take action.

Rated: K+

Pairing: Kick/Gunther (No Kick/Kendall in anyway. She's not even here. Sorry my friends.)

Read on, my deers.

I opened my eyes up to an off-white ceiling with light gliding over it form the window and the sound of gentle, comforting snoring. I couldn't even really categorize it as snoring. It was really more like a cat's purring, but a bit louder.

Rubbing my eyes softly with my fists, I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs up as much as I could before letting a long, early morning sigh escape my throat. I didn't move from where I was, but I looked around, my eyes catching the attention the window was just begging for. The sun was practically screaming into my face when I caught sight of it. The brightness made me wince away and squint my eyes. I wished I could shut the curtains further to block out what was ailing me, but I didn't dare to get up with the person snuggled in tightly beside me.

My attention was next drawn to the alarm clock at the side of the bed. It was an old thing, long ago broken and unable to cry out for him to wake up, but not yet to be replaced. It probably wouldn't ever be replaced. Rock Callahan looked as strong and great as he always had, though, on his perch atop the clock that just provided time with its bold, striking red letters red letters.

The time was an easy 12:35am and I realized with a few moments of thought, that the person sleeping beside me would be asleep for at least another hour, minimum. I usually got up early, but we'd been up until the crack of dawn watching movies and having the time of our lives.

With that thought, what next caught my eye was the small, chubby teen next to me. His dark, messy brunette hair was scattered about his forehead on his tan skin. It curled around his ears and cheeks, but it wasn't long enough to touch his neck like mine was. He had his black and red blanket, which he was sharing with me, wrapped around himself and he was curled up with one hand clutching the warmth of the covering to his chest tightly.

I couldn't see what he was wearing, but I knew it was just a simple orange-yellow ribbed tank top and black briefs that fit hit perfectly. I always remembered what he wore, what his hair looked like, how it flipped and curled, because he always wore his signature white helmet with a single thick red stripe from back to front. He always had more bulky things on with it, thin, clingy jackets and boots perfect for stunts and keeping warm in the often chilly weather of Mellowbrook. It wasn't hot very much, mainly in the summer, but when it was, it was hot to the most extreme degrees. I remember when he used to where gloves and a jumpsuit literally every day, but he grew from that and changed it up a little bit over one summer. A little bit is an understatement, I guess. He was still the same guy, but he didn't look it anymore.

I got used to his change eventually and grew to like it just as much as the jumpsuits. Whatever he wore, I loved. It wasn't really something I was sensitive about it as long as he actually wanted to wear what he did, with his pride and usual manner of going about his life. If he was comfortable, I was, too.

My thoughts were stalled by a sound and I focused back in on his face even though I had never actually looked away.

Kick smiled a little in his sleep, curling in a bit more on himself and going back to his gentle purr of a snore and whatever dream was playing through his head at that time. I ran a hand through my own blonde locks, chuckling quietly. It was always cute to watch him sleep his day away like a hibernating bear in a warm cave. Kick Buttowski was not one to be lazy, but he was one to slack with things he had no desire to and sleep for 24 hours at a time. It was Saturday, so he had the option to do so and he was taking full advantage of that.

I rolled in the bed to actually face him, resting my hand on the pillow I had under my head. It was hard not to be really close to him. His bed wasn't exactly small, but it wasn't big enough to give two people sleeping in it a large amount of space and the blanket we shared made it worse. We were barely a foot away from each other, but the way he slept, curled up and small, accommodated the way I slept, sprawled and messy.

My eyes stayed on him the whole time I was thinking. It was hard not to stare at his adorable little face, his sun tanned skin from all the stunts and activity, his messy brown hair that I hardly ever got to see except when he slept. He looked so wonderful right now, a perfect little angel… Without realizing it, my hand had made its way to Kick's cheek and my thumb was stroking the skin.

My heart skipped a beat when I noticed the contact and almost yanked my hand away, but I had almost forgotten how soft his skin was. I really wanted to keep my palm there for a while. He was warm under my touch, feeling so smooth and gentle in comparison to all the crazy things he did. Even the scar on his temple that was usually hidden by hair was soft, though sharp and angry looking. It was weird for something so crazy to be so brittle seeming.

I moved my hand slightly and started playing with his messy brunette locks. His hair wasn't as soft, but it wasn't awful. I actually loved it just as much as I loved everything else about him. It was coarse and tangled and perfect because it was Kick's hair. Everything about Kick was perfect, from head to toe, he was amazing. Kick Buttowski was the most complicated, delinquent I'd ever met, but he treats me well and always looked out for me. I do the same for him, though I am not nearly as destructive and crazy as he is. I build things for him, set up stunts, bandage his wounds, and carry him when he blacks out from biting the concrete to hard.

I card my fingers through Kick's hair, smiling warmly and ignoring how fast my heart is beating in my chest. I can feel his warm breath against my skin and his purring is calm and delicate to my ears. Eventually, I close my eyes, hand still tangled in Kick's hair, and I let his heart beat and his breathing lull me into a little cat nap. I wake up to the sound of my name and I jolt, opening my eyes to Kick's brown, sleep riddled ones. My fingers are still claiming his hair and I'm much closer than I had been before.

"Good morning, Gunther." His voice is gravely and coated with drowsiness . "What are you doing...?"

I pull my hand away slowly, resting it down on the bed. I think I catch that he looks a little disappointed and I wonder if he liked my hand there, but it might have just been my imagination. "Well, I guess I was sleeping, but not anymore."

Kick smiles at me somewhat before we lay there for a whole 10 minutes in what I'm pretty sure is awkward silence. The air is thick, filled with tension that neither of us is looking to break right now.

But one of us does and surprisingly it's not me, it's Kick. He doesn't break the silence with words, though, no, words aren't what he does best. He's good with action.

I hear rustling and feel him curl up closer to me and rest his head against the middle of my chest. I'm taken aback at first, but then I slowly find myself playing along and resting my chin against the top of his head. Blood pumping and my heart thrumming in my chest, I search for something, finding what I really want quickly. I take Kick's had lightly in my own, my vision blurry and my nerves building with each passing second. I'm positive he can hear the sound of my heart beating, but I wish he couldn't.

His hand tightens on mine and I feel my cheeks warm up a bit. I just nuzzle my cheek against his hair, breathing in slightly. He smells of rose shampoo and some manly kind or body wash, definitely because he took a long shower last night.

Neither of us speaks at all and by the next time I look at the clock, it's 2:25pm and I assume we've only been laying here for 30 minutes and I watched him for over an hour. The next thought that hits me is that he probably saw me watching him at some point. That makes me a little nervous and embarrassed, but I say nothing about it and we just continue lying together in a jumble of pillows and sheets.

It's maybe 10 minutes later that I look down at him and he looks up at me because I'm moving. He looks kind of worried, but isn't showing much of how he feels right now. I can see it behind his eyes though. I squeeze his hand a bit and I can suddenly feel his pulse in his palm. It's going a mile a minute like after he finishes a stunt and I have to grab him to wrap him up in new gauze. I notice the flush on his cheeks and the way his eyebrows are curved up slightly and everything starts to make sense to me. He's nervous. I don't know why, but I know that he is riding his nerves right now. I'm just as bad as him, though, making both of us a wreck of emotions.

I decide to intertwine my fingers with his now, instead of just gripping his palm. He looks down at our hands and laughs a little, confusing me, but I don't mind because I love his low, tender laugh, it warms my heart. Kick locks with my eyes again and I wonder if he's supposed to look this amazing. I'm leaning in closer and I can hardly comprehend anything with the sound of my heart pounding in my ears and my hands sweating slightly.

There's a sound from the door of his room behind me and then I'm suddenly on the hard, unforgiving floor. I wince at my body hitting the rough, carpeted ground and look up to find Brad in the door way. His hair is rather a mess and he's wearing pajamas like both Kick and I. He doesn't look like he just woke up, though. "Get up, Dill weed. Mom doesn't want you sleeping anymore." He growls out, looking at me for a second in confusion before turning and slamming the door shut after he's out of the room. I wonder what crawled up his butt, but I don't say anything and instead just sit up.

"I'm sorry, Gunther. I panicked." Kick was sitting now too and adjusting his tank top somewhat.

"No worries. I'm tough. Floors can't do much damage." I respond with a smile on my face and I hear him laugh again as he gets out from under the covers to haul himself out his bed.

"Alright," he responds, going to his closet and pulling out some clothes for the day, "I'm glad you're okay." His voice sounds a little quieter and filled with annoyance and, seemingly, regret.

I stand up and wiggle my toes a little bit, feeling the soft carpet that betrayed me and refused to be gentle when I fell. My feet lead me closer to Kick almost on impulse and I watch as he turns to look at me. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. I can see it in his eyes that he's glad to have me closer again. That makes my cheeks fill slightly with color.

I look at the ground, shuffling my feet and thinking this is probably a bad idea. I almost dismiss myself before I feel hands on my shoulders and I notice Kick pulling me down closer. I must have looked like I was scared, because he nods at me without saying anything and I awkwardly grab his forearms, not sure where to put my hands. I don't think I've ever felt this close to Kick in my life and it makes me nervous and worried about what he'll think of me.

My heart is practically hitting against my rib cage as I stare into his warm, light brown eyes. They make me think of chocolate and fire, sweet and dangerous. I feel as though those two words fits him really well and stow it away to voice later, but I think I'm procrastinating now. It feels like I've been staring at him and he's been staring back for hours, but I lean in more and he does just the same, obviously telling me he really does want this.

So I actually move, my lips brushing against his for a second, the feeling of it making me flinch away slightly in somewhat of a shock, but I put my forehead against his, with my eyes closed. It doesn't take long for me to realize that I want to kiss him again; I want to actually kiss him this time, so I do and it lasts longer, but it's just as special as the first, lighter one. It'd be nothing interesting to anyone else except me and probably him too, but I'm only guessing. Just feeling his lips against mine made me want to sing and when his hands tightened on my shoulders and he pulled me in closer, I could have melted into a puddle if it weren't for my bones holding me up and my hands on his arms.

It hits me that I don't think I will have a better kiss than this in my lifetime, so I try to remember everything the best I can. I memorize the way his lips feel against mine, warm, slightly chapped, but otherwise perfect and fitting just right against my own. Opening one eye, I peek at him and take note of his facial features. The way his eyebrows curve up and his cheeks are flushed slightly with pink color that shows bright against his skin and his eyes shut tightly in most likely, concentration. I'm sure I'm just as flustered looking as he is. I can feel it under my skin.

I also mark that his hands are shaking slightly against my clothed shoulders and I have to hold him up a little bit. I'm bent down about a foot so our lips can meet and I can only assume he's frustrated about that. He was always frustrated about his height, but he said it didn't make him any less of a person and wouldn't stop him from doing anything he wanted to do. He was determined and stopped letting people that called him short get at his nerves.

It feels like years upon years have gone by when we pull away and I look down at him, watching his eyes open and him stare back at me. My hands stay where they are against his arms, but I step back somewhat, swallowing thickly. It feels like I did something wrong, but at the same time, I know I didn't and I want to do it again. He grins up at me nervously, obviously forcing down some emotions to save face. I let go of him completely, eyeing him fully now and I notice a pair of pants on the carpeted floor. He leans to pick them up and holds them tightly in his short fingers. I assume they must have fallen when he grabbed my shoulders.

Out of kindness and courtesy, I turn away to let him get dressed and go to the bed, reaching under to grab some of the clothes I keep here. I change out my shirts for a clean, long sleeved one and pull on some dark, longer shorts over my pink colored boxers with red hearts all over them. I grab my jacket I was wearing yesterday too and slip it on my shoulders as well. My finger run through my hair to get out any knots hiding away in my almost should length mane.

The whole time we are apart, I'm left thinking about what just happened. So many thoughts are racing through my mind about everything and the way we kissed, that I barely notice when Kick walks over and stands next to me. I'm only brought back by his hand on my arm. I jolt and look at him, noticing his concerned expression.

"Don't worry, Kick. I'm alright." I say slowly, offering a smile up as a gesture of truce, but he doesn't accept.

"Gunther. We should sit down." He responds after a few seconds and sits me on his bed again before placing himself closely beside me.

I fidget in my spot, hoping Kick isn't angry at me for what I did. It's then, that I notice he's dressed and I wonder how he did that without a sound. His helmet is back on, too, but I guess I don't question much because he's Kick Buttowski and some of the things he does are mysterious and leave me in awe.

When he said we should sit down, that was what we did and that was all we did. He obviously had to say something, but he seemed at a loss and we just sat there in quiet with the sounds of Kick's family downstairs, and both watched separate corners of his room. This was probably going to ruin our friendship. I had to say something, so I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I tried again and this time my voice mixed with Kick's.

"Gunther-" he froze.

"Kick-" I froze.

We stared at each other for another minute or so.

"You first," I mumbled, ringing the bottom of my shirt slightly. My mind was barely leaving that kiss we had shared moments ago. It was fresh in my head, every detail imbedded in my mind forever.

He took a moment before speaking, "We should... keep this quiet, right...?" Kick sounded said upset and a bit scared. That couldn't be true, though, because Kick Buttowski was never scared.

I nodded slowly in response, feeling the same way about it. Usually these kinds of problems fixed themselves.

"So," I began, trying to bring back the normal, "Wanna go to the Food-N-Fix to grab a bite? I'm paying." The tension needed to be snapped and half and shoved under a rug and we needed to start a new conversation before something else happened.

Kick lit up, luckily, glad for the change. I know him too well. "Heck yes, Gunther. Let's go." He hopped up from his spot, grinning at me. I loved to see him smile like that.

"Yeah," I got up right after, grinning and slipping on my Crocs by the bed. He hurried out the door, bolting down the stairs with a flip before his landing at the bottom. He was off to the garage and I'd wait outside. I heard Mrs. Buttowski from the kitchen, yelling something meant for Kick, but he wouldn't have heard, so I planned to relay it.

I walked out through the heavy front door into the bright sun, passing Brad on the couch. He turned and scowled at me, the normal greeting I got from him. Shutting the door, I glanced over to see the garage open and Kick snatching up Ol' Blue from her rightful spot. I made my way over, speaking as I did, "Honey says not to make a mess and don't stay out too late. You are going somewhere tonight around 8pm."

He looks up at me, "Awesome. Thanks, Gunther." Kick doesn't look away, though; he just holds his trusty skateboard to his chest and watches me. I glance around the area, realizing we've been like this twice already today, but this isn't the first day it has happened. We've just never kissed like we had in there before, though. And in all my seventeen long years, I've never once had a dull moment with Kick Buttowski, but today has been the most exciting one so far. My heart has never beaten faster and it's not even over yet.

"Wanna ride with me?" He states quickly, holding out his skateboard to me with both arms before dropping it to the ground and hopping on. I blink and smile a little, nodding at him. I never ride with him much, mostly because I'm more cautious than he is but today seems like one of those days. So, I hop right on the skateboard and wrap my arms around his back. He pushes off with his foot, dropping up down his slanted driveway for momentum and then we are off without much effort, surprisingly.

The air flies by, stinging and biting my face and exposed skin, but the thrill is wonderful and I enjoy holding him so close. At one point, he even glances back to give me a smile, which I gratefully return.

We are there before I even know it and his foot brings us to a stop. I step off of the blue board and watch him kick flip it into his hand and tuck it under his arm. He heads inside right at my hip and we wave to Wade who smiles warmly at us and gives a lazy slow nod that continues to whatever music is playing in his head.

I pat down my pockets quickly, finding my wallet with a happy sigh. It would have sucked if I had forgotten it. We both get Cheetah Chug Sloshies and he grabs a bag of chips, a kind we both enjoy, and tosses them on the counter with the rest.

Paying takes but hardly a minute and Wade is so great that he never taxes us the high state tax on food, so it ends up an even 6 dollars and I slip him the exact amount over the counter. We head outside again and Kick drops his board, standing on it and slowly sliding along beside me as I walk. "Where to?" My voice his soft as I talk, looking over at the cute little daredevil beside me.

"The Gully? I don't really want to be around the cul-de-sac right now with Brad being so angry today." Kick takes a sip of his drink and laughs gently and I do, too, but wonder if being alone is really the best option here. I make no mention of it though, wanting to be alone with him, and we head to The Gully with barely another word.

Getting there is easy because we know the route so well. Everything is as it always has been and I set down my almost half empty drink on the ground near the couch and Kick puts the chips on the couch cushions and his drink beside mine. He's off to the half pipe right in front of us and I sit down and watch, not really in the mood to do anything else.

I smile as he speeds back and forth, flipping in the air and hitting the wood again with a thud of the wheels against it and keeps rolling on. He's practically mastered boarding on this half pipe and he barely ever crashes anymore, but it's obvious he still enjoys it and I love it when he's happy. Even when he fails, he's grateful he got to try and will try again until he succeeds.

I must have spoken too soon because the next thing I know, his board it's clacking against the concrete and he's hitting against the wood of the half pipe. He gets up and collects himself before continuing, but it happens again. Then again. Then another time. The fourth time around, I stand up and make my way over, picking up his board for him and kneeling beside Kick. I was growing tired of seeing him crash over and over again. He must be distracted, because he never messes up this badly on something so simple.

He pushes himself up, blinking up at me and sitting there on the wood and I sit across from him, handing him his board. "You alright, Kick?" I question, getting no answer from him except him clutching his board to his chest again. Kick looks down at the wood of the half pipe and we sit there for a while.

His knee is cut up and he's got a bloody nose from slamming face first into the ground, but that's nothing serious, so I just get up while he's quiet and grab a few things. I sit back down near him and put antiseptic on his cut up knee, getting a wince from him, but nothing else. I slap on a Band-Aid after and grab a paper towel to wipe the thick maroon liquid dripping from his nose, over his lips, and down his chin. It marks his skin somewhat even after I wipe it away, but with another swoop, it's gone and I press the towel to his nose after and he holds it.

Kick watches me work effortlessly to get me patched up. It's a natural thing now for me. This is the only thing I don't like about his stunts, though. No matter how much I get used to it, I still hate when he gets hurt more than anything. He lives in action, but for every action, there a consequence and that's what I dread here.

Kick stares at me still, even after I'm done cleaning him up. I'm wondering what he's thinking when he speaks, still holding the paper towel against his nose and making his voice is a little bit different and more clogged. "Gunther..?"

I looked up at him, "Yeah?"

He drops the paper towel beside himself, the bleeding stopped for now. I was glad for that. I hated it when he lost blood, but that seemed like something anyone who cared would hate.

Kick didn't say anything else to me, he just scooted closer, turning away and leaning back against my chest. I sat there, looking down at him before setting my hands behind my back on the wood to hold myself up while looking at the sky with him.

We stayed, watching the clouds for a while before my muscles got tired and I decided to lean forward again and wrap my thick arms around his middle, resting my head on his shoulder. He tensed up, turning his heard slightly to look at me. I looked right back and decided right then and there that Kick was something way to awesome and great for me and I wanted him to know what I thought of him. Words weren't forming for me with him so close, though, so I kept one arm wrapped tightly while the other lightly cupped his cheek, deciding to show him with actions, the way he would show me. He broke our eye contact to try and look at my hand.

The sun was starting to go down and I wondered what time it was vaguely as I pulled him closer, his back against my chest. My lips connected with his and he tasted of bitter metal from the blood that had touched the skin. I didn't mind it, though, because his taste was mixed right in with it and the metallic just added to his natural state. I was sure that if you mixed in dirt, too, it would taste just like I imagined him tasting.

We stayed like that for a little, not moving even when we weren't kissing anymore. The sun was almost set and I almost voiced my concerns, but I changed my mind. I didn't care right now. Kick was not my first kiss by far, but he was the one I would not forget.

When it was too dark to see, I decided to speak up then, "You should get home so your mom doesn't get mad."

He nodded back, "You're right. I should..." There was a pause and a tension, "Gunther, I don't want to ruin our friendship. You're my best friend. What if this screws it all up?"

"I think we are strong enough to get through something like that if it goes wrong." I wasn't lying, I knew we were, but that didn't make me any less terrified about it. My feelings had been around for years and I didn't know how long Kick had felt like this.

"Let's wait... Maybe." He voiced, squeezing my knee cap with his hand.

"Wait for...?" I hoped he knew what to do, because I sure didn't.

"I dunno... I guess, I'm just..." Kick trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck. There was a stretching quiet for a little while I tried to let him think. The sound of owls and trees rustling slightly hid the silence, though.

"You're just..?" I repeated in response to his stammering.

"I'm worried… and kinda scared." His hands clutched each other tightly now and he was trying to keep his cool.

I answered him slowly and with a slight stutter, mostly because I didn't know how to respond to that. Hearing that he was scared stunned me more than anything else had the whole day. "Well, me too, but... I have you to help me not be as scared and you have me."

It wasn't that we didn't have families, but friend wise; we were all each other had. Kick's brother was awful and wouldn't help him, his parents were rather wrapped up in Brianna and mine were... Well, mine were just who they were going to be. They loved us, but they were difficult.

"Okay, Gunther... Do you really think it will all be okay...?" Kick was quiet in his speaking and hesitant about the words he chose.

"Yeah, I think it will be more than okay. We can just act on impulse and see where everything goes."

"Sounds like my kind of thing." Kick responded before pushing himself off the ground. He held out a hand for me and I took it, standing up as well.

Neither of us let go, clinging with my heart and fingers to his hand as he just hopped on his skateboard. I jumped on behind him, snatching up a flashlight nearby with my free hand as he sped off. I clicked it on and it lit our way home. It wasn't until halfway back that I realized the chips were left open, barely eaten, and on the couch for some raccoons to chew and the drinks were left to melt and condensate onto the concrete. We'd probably come back to a mess and slightly clawed up furniture, but we could clean it up together. We worked best together. Everyone knew that.

It was pitch black by the time we got to the door of Kick's house, but the flashlight and the lights from the buildings helped us from getting lost. It was actually only a little bit after 7pm, thanks to daylight savings time.

We stood in front of each other awkwardly in the doorway and he still had his board under foot, sliding it back and forth habitually.

The air was still and we just stood in the dim porch light with the sound of the channel Brad was probably watching inside calling through the door. I didn't know how we were supposed to say goodbye here, so after a while I just hugged him, getting him to stop sliding the board and hug back slowly. My heart was slamming against my ribs over and over, the side of my nose pressed against his hair. We stayed like that for too long, but when it was time to let go, I found myself locked against his lips for the third time that day and I think I could have just passed out right then. Everything was so overwhelming, but in the good way, no, in the great way.

I gripped him closer, deepening the kiss a little more, but we never took it passed lip contact. I don't think either of us wanted to right then. We were both so content to just be close. I didn't know for sure about that he thought, but that seemed to be the consent without words.

When he pulled back, his fingers played with my hair and he laughed somewhat at me or maybe it was just the situation. I grabbed for my jacket, slipping it over Kick's smaller shoulders as a showing of kindness. He looked astonished, staring at it and gripping it tight with his hands. His gaze landed back on me and he gave a "thank you" in response. Kick actually seemed to really appreciate it and for that I was glad it wasn't a purposeless gesture.

Another minute of silence and another kiss on the lips later, I decided to talk, "So... I'll see you tomorrow, Kick? Nothing's changed right...?"

This time, he laughed whole heartedly and that made my heart skip a beat. "Of course it hasn't, Gunther. I never want anything to change much between us. You'll always be my best friend even if you're other things too." Kick shook his head at my apparently stupid question with an obvious answer.

I smiled at him, "Great. I'll see you then!" I back away and he watched me go, waving before I turned and hurried home. Of course, I looked back and surprisingly spotted Kick still there, holding my jacket still around his shoulders. It made me warm up inside and keep smiling the rest of the night.

-Kick

I stood outside the door, watching Gunther run off to his house. He didn't live far away, so I couldn't watch long. I saw him glance back at me and it made me embarrassed for probably no reason at all. I didn't do any stunts today, but I felt like I did 20.

Heading inside, I propped my board up against the wall, kicking off my shoes and still clutching Gunther's jacket like a life support just as I had been doing with my skateboard. The coat smelled just like him.

I leaned back against the door, closing my eyes and wondering what to do now. The fabric of his coat under my fingers was soft and kind to my skin, kind of like he was. I buried myself further in it with that realization.

I flipped over the back of the couch and took my place on one of the cushions, glancing to find Brad passed out, so I claimed the remote and turned on something actually interesting. It was a show about BMX racing, but I was honestly distracted by my most favorite thrill I had managed to come across yet. Gunther. No, he wasn't just a thrill, but I could get addicted to him like I did the adrenaline and rush of stunts. I'd be quiet about him though, at least for a while and that wouldn't be too hard. I was, after all, a man of action, not gossip. Gunther talked, but he wouldn't tell a soul, I could feel it.

Turning my attention to the TV, I tried to get lost in it again, but it still wasn't really working for me. Luckily, I heard my mother walk in. "Oh, Kick, good, you're back. I was starting to worry a little with how dark it was getting. Be sure to clean up before go. We are gonna have dinner out for your sister's latest pageant win!" She exclaimed. No matter how much I hated those pageants, Brianna was my sister and I loved her and when she was succeeding, she deserved congratulations.

I nodded, getting up and turning off the TV before heading up the stairs to my room. I shut the door and looked in the mirror, realizing I looked a bit of a mess.

A nicer pair of pants was in order, but I kept the shirt on and the coat, too, though it was kind of big on my small frame. I, of course, left my helmet and boots on. My half finger gloves stayed too.

The trip to the bathroom was quick and I just washed off my face and hands. I dried off my skin and slipped on my gloves again before looking in the mirror one last time.

I touched my lips lightly with a few fingers, remembering the way Gunther's lips felt against mine. It made me swallow and smile to myself. I was literally falling face first for him and I probably had been for years, though the distraction of tricks and school and crazy excitement kept me from realizing it.

There were a lot of things I could say we're wrong with this, but I didn't let myself list them. I just continued on with a smile on my face and my head held high, with the thought that Gunther was here for me and always would be no matter what happened.

Bursting from the bathroom, I sprinted down the hall and slipped down the staircase railing, landing on my feet after propelling myself off on my hands with a flip. I was excited. I was really excited actually. I didn't even care when Brad trudged by and shoved me out of the way and into the wall. All I could think was that I was ready to see Gunther again. I wanted to run around the world to speed up time, maybe do stunts till morning, or just something to hurry the time along mentally.

I didn't know why I was so excited to see him suddenly and why when I thought about him, I got this warm feeling in the pit of my stomach and something that felt like butterflies, but all I did know was that tomorrow I could do something about it. I could stop these weird feelings and get my heart pounding again and my legs weak. I could see Gunther and have the things I always had subconsciously wanted. The thought made me bounce in my spot and have to hide a grin as my mom and sister made their way downstairs with Brad following a minute later in new clothes and my dad making his way down last.

Please review. I like hearing what people think.

This was really fun to write so I hope it's enjoyed.