Sticky Mouths Make Sticky Kisses

Summary: Short, fluffy L/G ficlet. Lizzie's sick, Gordo's at the carnival, and brings her some cotton candy afterwards. Things get a bit sticky between the two. Slight AU: no movie. Cute and to the point, with major L/G. R&R please. Tell me if I should continue.

A/N 1: Thanks you guys so much for all your great reviews! You made me BEYOND happy. I never thought anyone would like it so much. I was hoping to at least get five reviews, and I get on and there are thirty! Thanks again! Eeh!

Warning: There are MAJOR dosages of sweet fluff, so be careful or you'll choke and get cavities. Gets a bit dramatic, too. Oops.

I, David Gordon, vow to buy a candy necklace every day for the rest of my life if it means Lizzie will kiss me every time I do. I had waited four long years for this kiss, and now that it was happening, I was unraveling the situation to it's best. A simple brush of the lips had turned into a hot, passionate make-out extravaganza, and both Lizzie and I were enjoying it like we had never enjoyed anything else before. Or, at least that's how it was playing in my head. In reality, things weren't going as well.

I had never really kiss kissed anybody. Sure, I'd been in a few lip-locks with a girl or two this past year, but nothing to give me any practice or knowledge that I was doing the right thing. I didn't know where to put my hands and finally settled on keeping them in my lap; I almost lost my balance, trying to stay in the chair and lean in far enough so I didn't break the kiss. Chaos would ensue as soon as I did.

And how far was I supposed to go? How far did Lizzie want me to go? She seemed as confused as I was. As a potential dirk who cares more about grades than the opposite sex, I can't read girls as well as Ethan Craft. But Lizzie was different; she was my best friend. I could read her like a book, and right now, she had just reached the point where the story could split into two different directions. By the small movements she was making, I knew she was trying to decide if she should break it off or not. This kiss was an accident—so why wouldn't she?

Maybe I should get some books out on this. Was I supposed to think this much while kissing? What was that buzzing noise in my head? Why is my stomach suddenly melted butter? Is it normal to over-analyze interaction with your best friend?

This was too weird. I had kissed Lizzie before, sure. But that was when we were little and were playing Lizzie's favorite game, White Wedding, and she would chase me around the yard until my face was shoved in dirt and she was giving me a kiss with her tiny lollypop-smeared mouth.

This kiss felt like déjà vu. Her mouth was sticky yet again, and she smelled of the sugar she had just consumed. Except now I wasn't trying to avoid her or any cooties she might obtain; now I was—Oh God. What was I getting myself into?

I felt her stiffen in surprise. Or maybe it was fear. Or laughter. Was I doing it wrong? Wasn't I supposed to put my tongue in her mouth like that and—

Get a grip on yourself, David! Just relax and follow your instincts, and everything will be fine. It's just a kiss. A simple kiss.

Yes, I was kissing my best friend, Lizzie McGuire. I bet you didn't see that one coming.

"Lizzie! We're home!"

Lizzie and I pulled away, feeling the small suction as her sticky lips were peeled off mine. We jumped away from each other faster than I thought possible, and in consequence the chair I was sitting in flew backwards and I tumbled out of it with a bang.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh," I heard Lizzie muttering under her breath, as footsteps pounded on the stairs. A moment later her bedroom door was thrown open, and Mrs. McGuire was standing in the doorway.

"Is everything okay? What was that noise?" she asked worriedly.

I groaned, picking myself up from the floor and rubbing my back. "Sorry, Mrs. McGuire. My chair fell backwards."

"Are you okay?" she demanded in her motherly tone, looking me up and down.

"Uh…yeah, I'm fine," I lied. My heart was thumping a million miles per hour. Could Mrs. McGuire tell? Did she notice?

I licked my lips, tasting cotton candy, and looked over at Lizzie. Her cheeks were flushed and she seemed to be struggling for words, her mouth opening and closing several times, red and slightly puffy from me. From me. From me kissing her. What was really strange was the sense of proud satisfaction that bubbled under my skin, knowing I had done that to her.

"Okay, well I'll leave you kids alone," Mrs. McGuire said. "You're welcome to stay for dinner, Gordo, if you don't mind eating without Lizzie at the table."

"Thank you for the invite, Mrs. McGuire, but I should be going now, anyway. Lizzie needs her rest."

She nodded and after a quick temperature check of Lizzie's forehead, she headed downstairs to start cooking.

I looked back at Lizzie, who was staring at me. I could see her eyes widening and her jaw dropping—she was about to burst into full panic-attack mode. I needed to get out of here before I was thrown right into the middle.

"Well, I better leave, so I hope you feel better, McGuire, I had a great time and maybe we can do it again. Okay? Okay. Bye!" I said in all one breath. I made for the door as quickly as possible, when—

"Gordo!" Lizzie practically yelled, and I stopped in my tracks.

I turned back to her. "Y-yeah?"

"Well?" she said expectantly, after a moment's silence. "Aren't you going to say something?"

What was I supposed to say? 'Lizzie, I've liked you for a really, really long time. I enjoyed the kiss. Wanna do it again?' I didn't think that would go over too well.

"I—I—you taste like cotton candy," I ended lamely, then was out the door before she could say something to humiliate me.

The wet feeling of my necklace where her mouth had been ten minutes before rubbed against my skin the whole way home.

The good thing about a rainy Saturday morning is you get lots of time to stay in and think. The bad thing about a rainy Saturday morning is that you get to think about things you don't want to be thinking about. Right now, I was trying to avoid thinking about two things: the kiss I had shared with Lizzie the night before, and the results of that kiss that were more internal than I would have been able to guess.

I looked over at the empty bucket next to my bed, just waiting to be filled with my vomit. Oh joy.

I sighed, picking up the remote control to my television and turning it on. It was either that or study for finals, and I didn't think I'd be able to concentrate on the Shanghai Dynasty for very long without certain unwanted-yet-unavoidable-thoughts overwhelming me.

I changed the channel. Sappy romance movie. Just what I needed.

Click. Lifetime Story: Love At First Sight. Even better.

Click. The Maury Show. 'From Best Friend To Lover.'

I groaned, turning the TV back off. It was inevitable. There was no escaping her.

Truthfully, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Thinking about Lizzie was never bad thing. In fact—

"Gordo!"

I jumped, looking up to find a very angry and rain-soaked Miranda Sanchez standing in my doorway. "Uh…Miranda, what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? What am I doing here?!" she shrieked, reaching tone's I never thought possible. "Porque yo tengo no derecha, si? El nervio!"

I had seen Miranda get annoyed enough to shout something in Spanish, but never to ramble, especially not at me. Moral learned: Spanish-rambling Miranda is never a good thing. I pretended to be listening, nodding remorsefully every now and then, while privately wondering what kind of shampoo Lizzie used.

"…Llevar mi?" Miranda was saying when I snapped back to attention. She was very red in the face by now.

"No hablo espanol?" I asked hopefully.

"Oh me dios! Gordo, you kissed Lizzie and didn't call to tell me about it!" Miranda yelled. "What's the matter with you?"

"I didn't know—wait, I didn't kiss Lizzie! Lizzie kissed me!" I snapped in my defense.

"What's the difference? You still kissed each other and didn't call!"

"Didn't we already have this conversation when I was dating Brooke?"

"Brooke Baker and Elizabeth McGuire are not the same things!"

"Okay, I'll give you that one," I admitted reluctantly. "But it's still my personal life, isn't it? 'My' being the keyword there."

Miranda furrowed her eyebrows. "Gordo, you don't have a personal life. You tell Lizzie and me everything!"

"And if you had given me some time—try, twenty-four hours—I would have told you about this, too. You're my best friend, I wouldn't keep anything from you! I would have told you that I like her, really like her, and that I wouldn't mind having her as my girlfriend. I, David Gordon, am head-over-heels in like with—"

"Hey!"

This let's-scare-Gordo thing was really starting to annoy me, especially since I hadn't been in the mood to begin with. If it hadn't been Lizzie who had walked in, I would have shouted a very reproachful "GET OUT!" and that would be that. As it was, I gritted my teeth and stared grumpily at my quilt as Miranda uttered a cheery, "Hey, Lizzie!"

"H-hey Gordo!" Lizzie said, just as cheerful as Miranda, if not a bit shaky.

"Hi," I grunted, still not looking up.

"What's wrong with him?" I heard Lizzie hiss to Miranda.

"He just threw up again," she whispered back.

"Oh." Lizzie cleared her throat, now speaking normal volume. "Well, I um…was hoping to get to talk to Miranda in private, but Mrs. Sanchez said she was here, so…can I talk to you for a minute, Miranda?"

I looked up now, to see Miranda nodding. "We'll be right back, Gordo."

They went into the hallway and closed the door behind them, and I could hear hushed whispering, though I couldn't understand it. I was beginning to get bored and wonder what was so important that they couldn't talk about in front of me, when—

"…Ethan and Gordo!" Lizzie said a little too loudly, only to be shushed by Miranda.

Don't get me wrong. I respect my friends' privacy in every which way, more so than you think a best friend would. But as soon as I heard my name, I tiptoed out of bed and placed my ear against the door, hoping to get a gist of what they were saying.

"He'll never like me, Miranda," Lizzie was saying dejectedly. "I'm not good enough for him."

"Don't say that, Lizzie! You two are perfect for each other!"

I noticed how my heart raced a little at that. Were they talking about me?

"Yeah, right. He's funny and sweet and nice and so cute—"

My face fell. There was only one person who was 'so cute' in Lizzie's book—and that person was Ethan Craft.

"Lizzie, take my advice. Don't worry about it. He likes you back, I know he does. Just give him some time. He'll come around."

I heard them shuffling towards my bedroom and hopped back into bed as quickly as I could, feeling a lot worse than I had five minutes ago. Lizzie and Miranda walked in a second later.

"Hey guys," I said, my voice sounding surprisingly calm to my ears. I had never felt so…empty inside. What did it matter that Lizzie still liked Ethan? I didn't care. At least…I didn't want to care. "How about some movies?"

Miranda grinned. "Great! I'll get the popcorn, Lizzie can get the movies, and Gordo…Gordo, you can sit there and be sick." She bounced out of the room and down the stairs, leaving Lizzie and me by ourselves for the first time since I had left her house yesterday afternoon.

"So…" I said.

"So," she repeated. She avoided my eyes, biting her lip as she looked around my room. Would it be like this every time we were together now?

"What movie should we watch?" she continued hastily.

She dropped to her knees in front of the movie collection by my TV, sorting through them. "How about a comedy? Or a romance?" She pulled out an anonymous tape and looked at the back cover, reading the storyline. She sighed softly. "I wish someone would love me like that," she muttered, putting the tape back.

"People love you, Lizzie," I answered on instinct. Having an insecure female as your best friend qualified you to deal with anything remotely difficult. "Miranda and me and your family, for one. And for another, you'll find a guy. Be patient."

"I don't know, maybe you're right, Gordo," Lizzie sniffed, standing up.

"I am?" I asked intelligently, not expecting her to listen to me. Miranda and her never had.

"I'm not ugly," she said hesitantly.

You're gorgeous.

"And I'm not dumb."

You're brilliant.

"I'm fun to be with."

You're amazing.

"And I'm sure that, somewhere, there has to be a guy that is willing to accept me for who I am."

He's sitting right next to you.

I forced a smile. "Exactly. Don't waste your time on someone who can't see that."

Right. I didn't care.

A/N 2: The end! Finally! Sorry this took me so long. I rewrote it a dozen times or more, and I'm still not happy with it (I mean, is it me, or is it just so DRAMATIC? Maybe it's just Gordo). There will be one more chapter (I think) and then that's it. Unless you want me to leave it like this. Your choice. Yeah.

Also, I have very limited Spanglish, so please ignore the horrible Spanish sentences. And review, pleeeease! Oh, and one more thing. I'm horrible at editing my own stuff. Would anyone be willing to be my beta-reader? Email me at Mandi88139@aol.com with your ff.n name, too, if you have one. Thanks so much!

Sing to a duckbill,

Loozie Gordork