from the love to the lightning
Fluff-warning for this one.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
pretty woman
When she admits she's bored one day, it's on.
There's only so much kissing and playing games you can do before you begin to tire of it and everything. And no, she's not tiring of Tate, but she longs for something new, something exciting, something extraordinary.
And he's determined to give her that.
The music coming from her bedroom attracts her attention. When she steps inside she's greeted by the sight of Tate standing in the middle of the room, grinning like an idiot, a familiar melody coming through the speakers of her laptop.
Her mouth is slightly parted in confusion and she's looking at him like he's an alien. "Tate, what are you doing?"
He holds out his hand to her and doesn't answer her question until she takes it. When she does, he pulls her closer, hugging her body against his, swaying her lightly. "Dancing with you," he answers her just as the first words of the song rings out.
Pretty woman, walking down the street
Pretty woman, the kind I like to meet
"Pretty woman? Why?"
"I happen to think you're a pretty woman. As pretty as Julia Roberts. Prettier."
She giggles as he spins around, singing along to the song quietly.
I don't believe you, you're not the truth
No one could look as good as you.
His voice is surprisingly good, but maybe that's just her biased heart, and the way he's looking at her as he whispers the words. She can see that he's not simply singing them, but means them too, and it really makes her feel pretty.
"You're comparing me to Julia Roberts? You do know she played a prostitute in that movie, right?"
"Well, I think you'd make a pretty prostitute," he retorts, grinning cheekily and she can't help but laugh, hitting his shoulders playfully.
They continue to dance, swaying and spinning around, and they're so in sync if she didn't know better she'd say they were doing this their whole lives. Neither of them are unfamiliar with dancing – him, because Constance had insisted on teaching him, always the perfectionist, and her because she danced ballet once upon a time – hey, she was little, okay? And now their knowledge is finally playing off.
'Cause I need you, I'll treat you right
He dips her low, mumbling the words against her lips, her mouth curving into a smile as he does. She wants to lean in and kiss him but he doesn't let her, bringing her back to standing position as the rhythm picks up again.
When the last verse of the song rings out, they stop moving and she leans her head on his shoulder, sighing ever so softly.
"Thank you," she whispers against his sweater. He smiles, stroking her hair gently.
"Next time we'll dance to heavy metal."
She only laughs loudly at that.
