A/N: I write for multiple fandoms. Each features an O/C, each has its own particular following. Here's a crossover/combo of all of them, with just one thing in common.
Kiss #1: Star Trek The Next Generation: Data and Leora O'Reilly, "What a Difference a Day Made", Chapter 6 - Belonging:
Data sensed more connection than gratitude in this kiss, so he returned it in kind. Leo's heartbeat and respiration elevated slightly as he took her in his arms and she reached around his neck to hold on. Reading her responses as indicative of a growing if cautious affection, he tightened his embrace and deepened the kiss. Temperatures and textures, warm soft mouth, cool silky hair in his fingers, warm and strong where his arm held her around the waist. All of it somehow held more fascination for him because it was part of the whole being of a stranger who'd proven to be not much of a stranger at all over the course of a few extended conversations. Maybe it was because she was from another time, because she was lost herself and a stranger in the world by her very nature, like he was. She reached out to him, now and before, with no need to interpret and no fear of making "mistakes". So much like Tasha, who also had come to him of her own inspiration, and even when her first virally-driven rush of physical need had passed he had never once had to translate doubts into questions or progress reports. If a response was misdirected or a signal misread, there were no apologies and no regrets, there was only learning, and a sense of belonging that turned uncertainty from an obstacle to an opportunity. Though unable to feel or project human emotion in the accepted manner Data could fully experience belonging because it was a condition and not an emotion. For reasons Data believed he would never understand, of all his friends Tasha had seemed to symbolize this "belonging", perhaps because she was the first to offer it with no need for explanation. Its presence, and absence, was keenly perceived by Data as the nearest true analog to human emotion he was capable of experiencing. Even when he was among his closest friends there was just a shadow of it lacking. That it had returned in the person of this impulsive time jumper was a brilliant surprise Data was not inclined to question.
Warm, Leo realized again, he was so warm and solid, but not hard at all. His mouth was soft, tasted a little sweet, and as he opened it to hers she didn't feel a heartbeat's (if he'd had one) hesitation. He was following her lead, she knew he could gauge every beat of every cell merely by touch; he was responding entirely to her responses and not to advance any of the usual male agendas. Something was in him that spoke to her, that resonated as she'd told him, not in spite of his unique construction but because of it. Utterly different in form and origin, they shared a similarity in substance that she'd never even expected from a fellow human. Making a life in this new place took up all of her effort, and she'd decided that easing the inner bruises from her "before" loss and the utter disorientation since her arrival would have to be left aside. But then Data showed up, an everyday sanctuary she'd resigned herself to doing without because she couldn't imagine it existed. The number twelve screamed in her brain, twelve days until lives – not even parallel – continued in their own directions. This world and time was all about distance, all about more places for anyone to go farther away than she ever had conceived of in her life. More shiny things to entice you, goals and possibilities she'd likewise never imagined, they pulled at her already and all she'd done was pass a goddamn exam, the stunning possibilities to be lived and learned and experienced spun her head. He'd told her she'd make a home for herself but already she knew the rules were different here, with all the galaxies to travel in you'd better keep your home with you, because then you'd always be where you belong no matter where you are. It wasn't right, it wasn't sensible, but this 6 foot assemblage of positronic brilliance threatened to feel so much like home she wanted to scream at the hideous unfairness of it. She'd left the whole idea of "home" behind and then it came back to her uninvited in the shape of a lonely (even if he thought he wasn't) android. And only long enough to remind her why she might have changed her mind in the woods that night if only she'd taken a little more time to think.
Two brains, one positronic and one organic, implausibly whirled their respective thoughts almost exactly at the same speed. It would be the first and last time such a marvel occurred. In only ten seconds both Data and Leo weighed the events of the past two days, gave them context, and considered both their existential and more esoteric impact. And as Data's possibilities reached into the future Leo's screeched to a halt at twelve days, and instead of clinging to the gentlest most inviting kiss she could remember she withdrew her mouth from his and stepped back.
Kiss #2: Law and Order: Mike Logan and Meredith "Merry" Ryan, "Hey Baby", Chapter 7 - Back to Work:
As she looked down at him, her face a mix of "busted" and "shut up", Logan muttered, "Oh fer christsake," and pulled Merry right off the step, moving down to the sidewalk so she wouldn't topple them back. He dropped her down to his mouth dead-on target. Not that she didn't help with the aim. Her hands were gripped solid on his shoulders and despite her "working class" build he held her there for several seconds, one arm locked around her waist and one holding the side of her face.
When finally she dropped back on the first step Merry blinked twice and echoed, "Oh fer christsake," and leaned forward to fall against Mike again, this time burying her hands in that thick Black Irish hair that she'd been admiring since that night in his kitchen. And oh god that mouth… sharp enough to match her wiseass for wiseass, and soft enough to make her feel like she was drowning in velvet. When his mouth opened she swallowed his kiss as if it were her last meal.
It was Mike who pulled back first. "Damn."
Merry actually looked, and felt, a little dazed. She hadn't jumped a guy like that in a good long time, and never one who'd made her want to take her time before doing it. "Jesus Logan, you sure don't kiss like a cop."
His eyebrows shot up. "And how exactly is that?"
"I dunno… like he's reading you your rights? That was more like… last rites."
Mike took a step closer and smiled wickedly. "Never underestimate us Catholic boys."
Kiss # 3: V, The Final Battle: Ham Tyler and Angie Harper, "Ridealong", Chapter 5 - Full Moon Over L.A.
When he stood and curled a hand around that hamster-brown braid and leaned into her, her first thought was how that hard-looking mouth was anything but. Then, how there was no groping or hard grasping with manly hands, just light fingers to steady her face against his. And no tongue jamming down her throat, thank god. Not gentle, exactly… gentle was deliberate. This was… innate. And brief enough that she didn't actually get the chance to respond, as she was still making up her mind if she should.
No protest, Ham noticed, but nothing else either. Win some, lose some. He let her go and considered her from the step above, then shrugged. "Maybe not. Back to Plan A is fine with me."
She could tell he meant it. "Wait," and she grabbed him by the leather lapel and pulled him back down to her. Ironically, with an insistence whose absence had so impressed her a moment ago, as if she could draw that quiet and stillness into herself from him. Ham indulged her for a second or two, then pulled back a bit.
"Easy, Angel. I'm not going anywhere."
She was embarrassed, caught out. "Sorry." How long had it been since she'd been kissed by someone who had nothing to prove?
He looked down at where her right hand was still clutched on his jacket as if she were afraid to let go. "No, not like that," he worked his thumb into her fist to loosen her grip and open her hand. "Like this." He kissed her palm lightly, and closed her hand. "Easy. Stand still. Be quiet." Then that not-hard mouth was on hers again, a little less brief than the first time. "Breathe."
Kiss #4, Forever Knight: Nick Knight and Maura Logue, "Safe", Chapter 1:
Janette's smugness annoyed Maura. As they were leaving she pulled Nick around and shoved him against the doorframe, kissing him hard. "Might as well give her a show, huh?" she whispered, and he laughed quietly and pulled her tight against him, kissing her equally hard, mouth open, his tongue velvety cool in her mouth. It was a lame excuse for them both, but that first contact threw out Nick's last pretense of detached concern. Like a teenager curious about drugs, he wanted to know what prized blood was like, and he wanted to know with her. He inhaled deeply before letting her go."Sweet," he told her as they left, Janette staring after them.
Kiss #5, The Monkees: Mike Nesmith and Bonnie Morris, "Even, at Zero"
Another shift as someone leaned closer, and a warm mouth was on hers. Open just enough to be soft, but not intrusive, and there just long enough not to be ignored. A whiff of Ivory soap, just enough to remove all doubt of who it was. She'd never known any other man who smelled of Ivory Soap. Okay, she had to admit it was as nice a surprise as a kiss could be without being expected, or entirely welcome. He didn't put his hands on her, what a gentleman. Still, she shoved back with a strength that surprised her.
"I am too wasted for this game, Nesmith." Eyes still closed, she rummaged in her jeans pocket. "I don't have one on me, but you can bet your Gretsch my business card doesn't feature the word 'groupie'." She opened her eyes, and focused as best she could.
He was still wearing the white stage costume, the lace ascot and collar pulled loose, exposing that lean throat. He slipped the ever-present shades on top of his head, revealing eyes that had to be as bloodshot as hers. He looked plain worn out.
"No game, Morris." His voice was matter-of-fact, but a weak edge gathered as he continued, "And if I was looking for a groupie I sure's shit wouldn't have come here." He raised his right hand, displaying the plain wooden box that had been among the things she'd put on the makeup table. "Came to get my pick box, and there you were. You looked like you could use something."
"'Something'? What made you think of that?" she demanded, unconsciously running a thumb under her lower lip. Given the juggling act her life had become in the past year, Bonnie didn't like surprises much. At the moment she most especially didn't like thinking this one was pretty okay, considering. A random, gentle kiss from a quiet, sardonic "fellow-traveler through the existential-looking-glass" (as Peter had once described them all).
Something sharpened in Mike's bleary eyes, and colored his voice. "Beats the hell out of me, now that I think of it." He didn't get up, but slammed back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling, sitting close enough that Bonnie could feel the post-performance heat he was throwing off. "Futility drives a man to strange things."