A/N: Fist of all, I'd like to thank everyone out there who's reviewed, it's greatly appreciated!!
Second, I honestly have no idea in what direction this story is going so it'll be interesting to see how this pans out.
Disclaimer: I own jack shit.
Derek marveled over the fact that a Terminator could hold a grudge enviably well as he put away the groceries. As soon as they walked through the door, John claimed that he had homework to do (shocker) and Sarah had to clean her guns...so that just left Cameron to stand there as she helped putting away the food, giving Derek a withering stare every carefully counted couple of seconds.
"Why?" he asked, holding up a family size bag of BBQ chips.
"They taste good," she responded automatically, shoving his thirty count case of beer into the refrigerator.
Reese sighed, shaking his head as he balled up the numerous amounts of cheap plastic bags and put them all in one big one. Over the past week, the whole poor excuse for a 'family' split up separately (well, John with Cameron) and hit the mini-marts and Blue Canoes in an individual fashion in order to get to food shopping done because it'd be extraordinarily conspicuous for them to all hoof it to Shaw's together, especially with the whole Cromartie deal and everything. Collaboratively, they ended up with a whole mishmash of things which included (but weren't limited to) a can of green beans, beer, fake potatoes in a box, Wonder Bread, a pack of Stride gum, steak tips, chips and Devil Dogs.
Since the whole driveway-in-the-pouring-fucking-rain debacle, Cameron had been way more than distant to anything that concerned Derek. Maybe if left out the rude comment and the near conniption he had on her when he finally returned from digging around in the slick and mud for the bolt she dropped, the robot wouldn't be as...cold. However, Derek wouldn't be Derek if hadn't of added one extra dash of vinegar to the cookie batter; he just couldn't help himself, though.
Brushing past Cameron to get a Budweiser, he had a momentary flashback that made him wince—but oh, Lord, did have to kiss her?
TTTT
The last of dirt and sweat washed down the drain, mixed with the steaming water that just pounded on Derek's back. The shower was way more hot than necessary, but it was only that way because he felt that the scalding liquid would somehow purge the feelings that his nasty lash-out to Cameron had left behind.
With a grimace and a groan, he reached back and twisted the water back, hating the squeak that emitted from the knob. His hand landed on the soft towel he had previously placed on the bathroom counter and wrapped it securely around his waist before stepping out of the bathtub/shower combo. Wiping the steam off the mirror with his forearm, Derek nearly jumped right out of his skin when he heard the sharp and sudden knock being rapped on the wooden door.
"What?" he called, out irritated, waiting for his heartbeat to return to a debatably normal pace.
"It's Cameron."
"...So?" was the delayed question.
"Can I come in?"
"No! You can't 'come in,' for Chrissakes."
"I wish to speak with you."
Derek growled through the division, "In the damn bathroom?"
"Circumstances have decided that this is the only likable option...there are only four enclosed rooms in the Connor household; Sarah's room, John's room, the basement and the bathroom," he heard her pause, as if Derek actually got the point but she soon continued, "Both John and Sarah are occupying their designated areas, the basement light burnt out five hours and twenty-three minutes ago—actually, we could converse outsid—nevermind, it is raining out. Through past collections of data I have concluded that you seem to be temperamental when it is precipitating—"
"Holy hell, woman!" he exclaimed, interrupting.
"I am not a woman."
He swore that he heard her mouth set in a firm line of defiance before he said, "I don't give a fuck what you are!" At this, he ripped the door open, the cool air slapping him in the face as he watched the fog pour out of the room, "What do you want?" he hissed.
Cameron squinted around him, "You can see in there?" she asked, confused.
"No," he said slowly, "I can't."
"The why—"
"Because," was the quick third grader response, not caring what the real question was.
"As aforementioned, I need to speak to you."
"Then let's get snappin', tin miss."
Taking him by suprise, she placed both palms on his bare chest and shoved him forcefully back, "In here." She followed, closing the door quietly behind her and swiftly locked it.
Derek felt his eyes widen, in partial wonder of what was so dire to talk about that they needed to be enclosed in a steamy teen foot square room and because she locked the fucking door, "What...?" he tried to ask, but his throat did that whole clogging up deal that he despised.
"I need help..." she said rather pathetically, crossing her arms lengthwise in front of her, grasping the edges of the thin t-shirt. She pulled the thing over her head, the cotton fabric clinging slightly to her lithe form because her skin was already sweating from the three-and-a-half seconds spent inside the room, "John tends to be fidgety when I do not have clothing on," Cameron explained, handing him her shirt. Her bra (thank-you, Christ) was left on for the 'sake' of modesty but Derek's blood still pounded through his veins anyways, "and it would be physically awkward around Sarah."
Fumbling, he put her top on the counter next to him, "O-okay," he croaked, his voice surprisingly scratchy despite the moisture-clogged air. Only when the Terminator turned around did Derek see why she needed help in the first place. His eyebrows perked at the wound between pronounced shoulder blades. "Ouch," he muttered, staring at the bloody, gaping, stab-like hole.
"I do not feel it proper to explain now," she said, twisting around Derek to open the medicine cabinet to pull out a box of gauze, "If the wound is not patched properly, it may not heal correctly."
"If you were human, you'd be dead," was the blunt comment that came out of his mouth.
"I am aware of this."
He twirled his finger and whistled a signal for her to turn back around. Despite inappropriate, freshman-like thoughts running across his brain signals, Derek figured it best not to stutter and perform like a freshman, so he composed himself. Acting as if there wasn't a half naked girl standing in front of him, he tore a thing of gauze off, placed it on the hole and tore a piece of medical tape with his teeth and slapped it on to secure the makeshift bandage, "That good?" he asked.
"Yes, I appreciate it," she said, turning back around so she could put her shit back on. However, Derek's hand came out and touched her elbow. Cameron stopped immediately, startled all to hell.
"Relax..." he breathed, his fingers trailing up her bicep and around her shoulder. The robot's muscles tensed underneath his touch, apprehensive. He felt the corner of his lips in a smirk as his hand traveled lower still, lightly massaging their way down her rib cage.
"D-Derek..." he heard her whisper, her chocolate eyes briefly meeting his green eyes before dodging his direct glance. The gradual flare of her hips rose to meet his hand and she mumbled, "Please...d-don't..."
He leaned in, hooking his index finger in the belt loop of her factory-faded lowrise jeans, "Sorry," he grunted, meeting her lips roughly.
Cameron's mouth was hot and achingly soft underneath his harshly unforgiving one. Her breath was searing as it surrounded his tongue and Derek pushed harder against her, his other hand resting at her opposite hip—
There was something wrong.
She wasn't responding at all. As a matter of fact, she pulled back vehemently, her lips red from their semi-embrace, "I told you," her tone was low and dangerous, "not to."
Derek Reese watched helplessly as she grabbed her t-shirt and stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her with a reverberating bang.
TTTT
"Derek?" Sarah called out form the front porch, jerking him out of his thoughts.
"Yeah," he responded.
"It's back."
"What's back?"
"The clanging noise," she said reluctantly.
Derek let out a deep breath, "Shit," he swore, "Can I fix it in the morning?"
"Sure."
He watched Cameron peek into John's room after everything was put away, mumble a few words he couldn't hear and then step inside.
For a half of a second, Derek was jealous of his nephew.
The feeling made him want to puke.
TTTT
"Sexy can I, just pardon my manners, girl how you shake it got a playa like..."
Derek wrinkled his brow.
What the fuck?
"Sexy can I, visit you at work..."
Jesus, was that what the kids were listening to these days?
At two o'clock in the morning, he had just got back from fixing Sarah's jeep seeing as there was no way that he could sleep. Irritatingly, Cameron had taken refuge on the couch, watching MTV and leaving Derek to wander around like a haunt because he didn't have the guts to tell the Terminator to mover her ass.
He sighed, knowing that he'd never be able to sleep with that rap-racket on anyways. Well, if you can't be 'em, join 'em.
"Hey," he said.
Her head jerked around, giving him an unbelieving look, "Hello."
Derek walked around the couch and sat at the opposite end, eying the girls in skimpy, shiny outfits grinding a stripper pole on the television, complete with rave-like strobe lights and some guy wearing chainlinks around his neck, trying to dance, "So you enjoy this?" he asked, propping his socked feet on the beer can-littered coffee table, "Damn, girl, you drink?"
"I don't get drunk," she said, undoubtedly sober.
"I bet it 'tastes good', huh?" he asked, grinning a whole lot when the joke was lost on her.
"Yes," she said emotionlessly. He heard a crunch to his right and Derek looked over to see Cameron munching on a handful of BBQ chips.
He just shook his head; he couldn't believe it. She looked like every other snobby sixteen-year old American teenager sitting there watching music videos a two in the morning, drinking her father's beer out of the fridge, eating a whole fucking bag of potato chips without gaining a pound. She had the straightened hair, the mascara, the painted toenails and the tanktops that were against school rules. Gloriously, she topped it all off with her boyfriend's—
Aw, shit.
Holy shit.
"A-are t-those...?"
"I ran out of underwear," was the simple response.
"Then go wash some!"
"It's only for a few hours, chill out."
But she wore them so...so fucking...good. Derek's simple plaid boxers adorned her perfect ass frame and were rolled down several times like every other non-jean thing she wore. Never, ever, ever, for the rest of his whole damn life was he going to be able to put on his boxers without wondering if she wore that exact pair or not. Jeez, and it wasn't like Cameron was wearing them just as shorts or something sane...oh, no. Of course not. He couldn't be that fucking lucky.
He sank back into the cushions of the couch, giving up completely. She peered over at him, the blue and green lights form the T.V. bouncing off her chestnut hair, giving her a strange allure in the dark room, "Want some?" she offered, holding out the bag off chips.
"Thanks," he said, taking a few.
"Yup."
They sat in complete silence for about a quarter of an hour before Derek spoke, "I apologized."
"Hmm?" she asked, turning towards him, not catching what he said. Grudgingly, he thought she was playing deaf on purpose. Her hearing was impeccable.
"You know...before I..." he broke off, fidgeting with the tab of the beer can he held.
"Kissed me," she completed for him.
"Yeah."
"I know."
Lord, he was so damn confused, "Then why the fuck--?"
"Because," was her retaliation. Argh. He'd heard that one somewhere before. She adjusted the strap on the boxers (Derek swallowed) and took another sip from the Budweiser, her mouth hugging the lip of the aluminum perfectly, "I believe it would have been wise," said Cameron thoughtfully, a faint hint of a smile on her face as she looked at Derek, "to have taken a picture."
"Excuse me?"
"When I had my shirt off," she shoved another handful of chips in her mouth. He waited. "It most certainly would have lasted longer than the glimpse you got."
"Yeah," he scoffed, reaching into the Lays bag, "Well."
"And I keep bleedin', keep keep bleedin' love..." sang the television.
Derek gruffly said, "She's hot."
Cameron just stared ahead, intent on her T.V watching. Abruptly, she said, "Your kissing sucked."
"Whoa," he retaliated, holding up his hands, "It's not like you did anything to change that."
"You were too forceful," she continued.
"You didn't kiss me back!"
"I wanted to hurt you."
"Then why didn't you kick me in the shin or something?" he asked, irritated.
She elaborated, "Emotionally."
His shoulders slumped when the realization hit. From the thing in the driveway, the thing he wouldn't have said to anybody else on the whole planet, erupted this whole mess, "Cam, I—"
The next comprehendible thing he knew, her finger was digging into his chest, "If you ever say something like that to me again..." she leaned in and Derek could smell the alcohol on her breath and that sweet scent of BBQ chips that he'd never forget. She reached forward and twisted the collar of his shirt in her fist, bringing him towards her, "You'll never know what it's like to be kissed by a Terminator."
His breathing was heavy and he felt a bead of sweat slide town his temple to the curve of his jaw.
That sure as hell was something he couldn't stand another day of going without.
A/N: Woo-hoo! So, they kissed...sort of. It'll sooooo get hotter later on.