AN: Part two! (But you already knew that)

Disclaimer: I don't own Coraline. (But you already knew that...)

Us

Part II

They met like normal the next day, at the tree stump by the well with him on his bike and her in her swampers and the cat on aloof pawsteps. They dropped pebbles down the hole and waited for the splash, listening for any signs of a needle-fingered hand crawling up the sides. All that time they acted like nothing was different, like last night had changed nothing.

Did it? Wybie wondered, watching Coraline press the side of her head against the top of the well. I thought it went okay... She said she had fun and I told her I liked her, but...she didn't really say anything back. Am I being led on?

"Wow. Six seconds. How many feet is that, Wybie?" She sat up, strands of mud clinging to her cobalt hair, looking him full in the face in a way that always made him glance away.

"I dunno. I-it depends on how heavy the rock was. Really deep, I guess," he murmured, studying the knothole in the wood even as he felt her eyes slide away from him.

She was too bright. It wasn't just her hair or her coat or the day-glo gloves that she wore with her school uniform. It was her loud and shameless laugh and her straight, proud gait as she stomped through puddles and over the hearts of lesser beings. There was something in her that was intense and astounding and more than the flash of a grin or a dominant shove in the small of his back. It was something beyond elliptic words spread through her lips or the fear of a door that opened to bricks and the buttons torn off her toy giraffe's face. It was because she had beaten them, bested the creature beyond the wall at its own game and managed to hold on to the spark of Coraline that made her so dazzling. Compared to soggy, grey Ashland or a slouching neighbor boy, she was high tide and California springtime. Way out of his league.

Wybie glanced at her again, subtly through his eyelashes, watching her stroke the cat from ears to tail-tip as he purred against her legs.

But he was drawn to her, and it was something he couldn't ignore any more. He didn't want her to, either.

He bit his lip. "Hey Jonesy," he began, and felt his hand begin to inch toward his neck. He covered the movement by slipping the welding mask off his head. "About that second da-"

"Wybie," she interrupted. He was startled into looking in her eyes, and found something familiar in them – conviction. "We need to talk."

Something in him gave a jolt, breaking off and deflating before it drifted down into the soles of his shoes. "Oh," he replied quietly. He knew what that meant. She'd already decided for the both of them.

Coraline pulled him over to the shade of a tree that still stood, asking the cat to give them some privacy. Not only did he oblige, but Wybie swore he saw the cat's eyes roll before he padded away. Then there was nothing but the whispering of the leaves above them, and the sheer brightness of Coraline as she slid down to sit among the moldy roots.

After a moment, Wybie joined her, sitting with a foot's space between them and his arms around his knees. He braced his shoulders, waiting for her to crush him.

"You know I hate being told what to do, right?" she began, spinning her charm bracelet absentmindedly with her finger. Wybie gave a solemn nod, and she continued. "I hate rules and I hate boundaries and I hate being told what's good or bad and right or wrong and stuff."

He felt her eyes on him again, probing, judging, expecting a reply to questions not voiced. He had no idea what they were, so he only nodded again, watching grass curl around the toes of his sneakers. "I know."

She sat back against the trunk, satisfied. "So I don't think this whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing is going to work for me."

Wybie had prepared himself to hear it, but he wasn't ready for the immediate, crippling despair slicing at the base of his ribs, or the pain that shot through him like a physical reaction. Bitter disappointment swelled in his throat and burned in the corners of his eyes, curling his hands into trembling fists against the holes in his jeans. Only those who have felt what he was feeling now could understand all the thoughts that flashed through his mind, or the barrage of emotions that passed through him like rainwater. Everything washed out, and then he just felt cold.

"But...being friends...? I don't like that either."

That same deflated something inside him spasmed, and Wybie picked his head up in shock. Was she dropping him completely? No, she wouldn't do that...would she? Some last vestige of hope, or maybe something far more pathetic, prompted him to look at her.

Coraline's face was pink behind her freckles, painfully thin eyebrows furrowed together in feigned annoyance. Feigned, because of the teeth gently chewing on her lips and the darting of her eyes to and fro over the ground but never at him. In that split second, in that vague and soft moment between them, Wybie saw things in her he never saw: uncertainty, self-consciousness, vulnerability.

The cold turned to warmth so fast that it was dizzying.

"So," Coraline said loudly, the fierceness relighting in her eyes, cheeks flushed. "How about we just be Coraline and Wybie, and we do whatever we want? No friend zone, no labels, no weird mood, just...you know, us. How about that?"

She looked to him then, and she looked so stubborn in her refusal to let romance change her, so amazingly, perfectly her, that he knew that she would never be just Coraline. Not to him. "What do you mean?" he asked, surprised with how soft his voice sounded. Coraline seemed to notice, too, her eyes widening slightly and the shyness returning to her lips, but for only a moment.

Then she was smirking and leaning toward him on one arm, the other trailing a line along the ground with her fingertips. With a quick, underhanded movement that he did not anticipate, Coraline shoved a handful of mud right in his face.

Wybie lost his balance and rolled onto his back, then rose to his knees and wiped the muck from his eyes. He could hear her laugh, the sound of wind chimes and flower gardens and things that go bump in the night. He turned to see her smile, but she was already spinning away, kicking up her heels, hair liquid in its motion, and it was all he could do to take his eyes off her long enough to scoop up more mud in his hands to throw back at her.

It splashed against her back and she screamed in delight, dipping immediately to gather ammunition. They plastered each other with mud, laughing and running and acting like the children they were that most people forgot about too soon.

Coraline caught his arm mid-toss and pulled, heaved him to the ground, tumbling down beside him with a splat, dirty hands curling around his collar. Bubbles of high-spirited snorts and giggles escaped the pair, the scene swelling with sunlight as the clouds moved away. Their breath struggled to catch up, heaving their chests and catching in their throats, lying with each other as friends do – or as Coralines and Wybies do.

His arm was squashed between the ground and her head, losing feeling as the clumpy strands of her hair slipped through his fingers. Her leg was pressed against his, her breath puffing past his chin, and Wybie wasn't sure it could get any better until she tilted her chin up to let her eyes slide over his.

He saw it again; that weird and wonderful softness that was so rare for her. It was touched with something mischievous and sly, and as her lips curved upwards in a wily little grin, he barely had time to think before they were upon him.

There was mud between them, on their faces and inside the hands that they clasped tightly together against the spongy ground, but he felt as if he were apart from it all, save from the feeling of her eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks and the clumsy pressing of his lips on hers.

It was quick, demure, but full of feeling, and they pulled away all smiles. No more questions.

"Like that," she replied, eyes shining.

Wybie grinned, wondering where the kids from last night had gone to, with their awkward Coke-sipping and desperate reaching for familiarity. He didn't miss them. They didn't need boyfriends and girlfriends or friends with benefits or buds or pals – they were Coraline and Wybie, and wherever that meant, he wanted it forever. Feeling just a little bit shy, he placed his hand on her shoulder and leaned forward until their noses touched. "I think I like this idea..."

She kissed him again through her smile, and neither saw the skinny black cat prowling in the treetops, wondering for the thousandth time why on earth humans were so hung up on names.

AN: And that is the conclusion of this silly fluff that tried so hard to be profound. :D Thanks for continuing to read! Anndd...review!

Tickle that toast.