Date Written: 11/2/05
Rating: T
Word Count: 682
Characters/Pairings: Bikky/Carol, Dee/Ryo
Warnings: None
Spoilers: For Vol 1... Basically the whole Bikky/Carol arc
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Because everyone should abuse their Bard!
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"This is stupid," Bikky insisted, tossing his textbook across the dining room table.
Carol sighed, looking up from her own homework. "Shakespeare is not stupid."
"Yes, he is. I mean, he can't even write in real English!"
Carol rolled her eyes. "Bikky, Shakespeare gave the English language anywhere from 30,000 to 40,000 new words and phrases."
"Then why is he so damn hard to understand?"
Carol moved around the table to sit next to Bikky, opening the book. "It's easy, but it's more fun with someone else. I'll read Romeo's part, you can read Juliet."
Bikky opened his mouth to make a smart-ass comment and argue with her about reading the girl's part, but her confident voice cut him off.
"If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, read stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
"See? That wasn't so bad. Now there, your turn," she prompted, pointing at the text.
Bikky leaned over, squinting at the small typeset. "Good... Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hands too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this. For saints have hands that pilgrims hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." Blonde eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss? What does that mean?"
"Like this," Carol replied, taking his calloused hands into hers. She fashioned them so their hands were pressed together, as if they were trying to touch hands through a pane of glass. "Palm to palm, get it?"
Bikky nodded, a sudden lump in his throat. For some reason lately, every time she touched him, his heart would race.
"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" she quoted, leaning in closer to him. Oh, he could smell her perfume now, and it smelled so good... And her pretty face was closer to his, barely a foot away. He could probably lean in and kiss her now, if he wanted to.
Her hands moved against him, breaking him from his daydreams. He hurriedly glanced at the book, finding his spot. "A-aye, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."
"Oh, then, dear saint," she continued, leaning in closer to him, and her voice dropping into a whisper, "let lips do what hands do."
Maybe he was hoping, but he could swear her tone was asking him to kiss her. He took her pale hand into his darker one, kissing the palm before nuzzling at the soft skin on her wrist. He could feel her blood pounding under the pulse point hidden under the layers of skin there.
"Bikky, what are yo--"
The rest of her question was cut off when the basketball player pressed his lips against hers, taking advantage of her gasp of surprise to slip his tongue into her mouth. God, she tasted good, the sweet tang of lemonade she had been drinking earlier mingling with her own taste, making Bikky slightly dizzy with desire. He wanted her so badly his chest ached.
And if Carol's actions were any indication, she wanted him too. Her arms were tight around his neck, her hands in his blonde hair, her tongue was chasing his and she was practically climbing into his lap (and Bikky found himself thanking God that he had decided not to change out of his jeans when he got home. Carol was in a skirt and if he was in anything thinner, he would have taken her on the dining room table, with Dee and Ryo in the kitchen).
When they broke apart for air, Carol lightly smacked his cheek in reprimand. "You can't wait a month, can you?"
"I'm not a patient man," Bikky replied. "Besides, it's in the play."
Carol's eyebrows arched, but she grinned. "Well, it is in the interest of your education," she rationalized.
Bikky grinned and pulled Carol close for another kiss.
In the kitchen, Ryo pointed a ladle at Dee. "He gets that from you, Laytner."
Dee didn't even try to argue.
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