Theme Challenge: Bridge and Z
For the Ars Amatoria Ranger Romance Themes Challenge
Challenge #39: Closer
Disclaimer: If I owned Power Rangers…think of all the romance the show would contain. Haha!
A/N: I know it's been awhile since I've updated this, but college is time-consuming, unfortunately, and I hit some writer's blocks…yuck. But this one came out, thank god. Um…I don't think you need to know anything prior to reading this…could be set anywhere in the season, probably after Stakeout, I'd say. Or Sam. Whatever. LOL I really hope you enjoy this, though. Please review!
Closer
Bridge settles into his chair in the command center and exhales loudly. He's alone in the blue-lit room, thank god—sometimes, he just needs to be completely and totally alone in order to organize his racing thoughts. Plus, he needs to get some paperwork done for Kat.
Unfortunately, he's not alone long enough to even start, because the reason for his frazzled mind chooses that moment to walk in the door, hips swaying: Z Delgado. He groans inwardly. Great. He'd been trying to avoid this.
"Hey, Bridge," she greets him with a smile, and he weakly smiles back. "Oh, are you doing paperwork? Me, too." She waves a clipboard at him, and sits down in the chair next to his. She leans over, scribbling something on the paper, and it takes everything in his power not to reach over and push back the hair that falls over her face. He sighs inwardly.
Bridge would be the first to admit (well, not to her, of course) that he had a crush on the sassy, spirited Yellow Ranger, but for some reason this week had been especially difficult for him. All week he had been having dreams about her, and so all week he hadn't been able to look her in the eye because he'd think on things his dream self had wanted to do to her…He feels a blush warming his cheeks and quickly averts his eyes, trying to focus solely on his paperwork and not on the fact that she's only a few feet away and he can practically feel her warmth on his skin…
"Are you all right, Bridge? You're pressing pretty hard on your clipboard. I think your pencil just broke."
His breath comes sharply. Oh, God, she said hard…he almost drops his now-splintered pencil.
"Me?" He glances at her then quickly looks away. "I ah, I'm fine. Just um, daydreaming, I guess."
"That must have been some intense daydream for you to shatter your pencil like that. Here, take mine. I'll get another."
"No!" He practically shouts. "I mean, um, no, that's okay. Don't get up. I'll get it. Really, it's okay. It's fine." After he manages to stutter out his excuse, he jumps up and rushes to the supply drawer across the room, making sure to take extra time finding a decent—mechanical—pencil…he wasn't sure what he would have done if she had made him take hers…there'd probably have been some accidental skin-to-glove contact, and he isn't sure that even the thick leather would be able to shield him…
"Bridge, are you sure you're okay?" She comes up behind him—very, very close, might he add—and it takes all his willpower not to scream in utter frustration. In the name of all things good and sweet and holy, does she know? Could she possibly sense that being around her is sending all his body systems into a state of complete and utter chaos, and now she's just messing with him for kicks? Was that even possible?
He seriously hopes not.
"Bridge…um, you just broke another pencil."
What? He looks down at his hand to find two pieces of plastic where his mechanical pencil used to be.
"Dammit," he swears under his breath, and hears her sigh.
"That's it. Now I know you're not all right. You never swear. Ever. Come on, Bridge. Tell me what's wrong. You can always tell me if something's wrong."
Not this time, I can't. He thinks, and braces himself against the console, hanging his head down to his chest.
Bad idea. She comes even closer and lays a warm hand on his shoulder.
"Is it something I did? And don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. You've been avoiding me, Bridge. I haven't seen you all week…did I do something to make you mad? 'Cause if I did, I'm sorry."
She rubs his shoulder gently and it takes everything he has not to turn around and kiss her.
"Bridge?"
"No!" He bursts, spinning to face her. "It's just the opposite…Believe me, you didn't do anything wrong. Nothing at all," he finishes; she's closer to him than he thought. He wasn't expecting her to be mere inches away, and nearly falls backward over the console. Her reflexes kick in; she shoots her arms around his middle, dropping her clipboard in the process. It clatters to the floor with a loud plastic echoing as she steadies him. They stare into each other's eyes and the room falls silent, except for the heavy sound of their breathing. Tension crackles, electric in the air, and as he exhales, Bridge can't help but stare at her lips, which are so close to his that he can feel her breath on his nose. His breath hitches as she catches him staring and realization dawns on her face.
"Oh…is—is that why you—"
"Yes," he says simply, and she shifts her arms from around his waist to around his neck.
Dear God, he might just stop breathing altogether.
"Me too," she tells him, smirking a little. Seeing his completely shell-shocked reaction, she looks him straight in the eye and asks him, "What are you thinking right now?"
He can't believe what he's hearing. Usually, people only ask him what he's thinking when they're trying to solve a crime or something. Tears heat the corners of his eyes, and other things heat the apples of his cheeks.
"I'm thinking…I'm thinking that I—I just want to be…closer to you, Z." He confesses, staring at the floor.
"Well, you're pretty close right now…" Her voice is husky, deep, barely a whisper. "But…" He looks up, a faint smile on his lips.
"Not close enough?" She smiles at him with brazen eyes, and blood flow increases in certain…areas of his body.
"Definitely not close enough." She pushes him, a wicked grin on her face; his lower back slams against the console behind him as her mouth closes on his. Shock reverberates through his spine, and he feels his legs turn to jell-o as she kisses him feverishly. Then he finally gains control of his mind, kissing her back like he's always wanted to.
A low moan vibrates in his throat.
She pushes aside his uniform jacket, and it falls to the floor with a soft thud; he feels his mind slipping farther and farther away. All the reason and semblance of logic he is known for has fled, and he finds himself drawing the zipper of her uniform down, down, down…farther than he's ever thought he'd see. She's wearing a pale yellow camisole, simple, a bit of lace around the edge…he'd always wondered what she wore under that uniform. He pauses, taking in her now-disheveled appearance…her glowing eyes, her flushed cheeks, her mussed hair, her swollen lips…
God, she's beautiful.
"Let's go," he tells her, tugging on her hand, leading her out of the command center.
"But what about--?" He pulls her in tightly to him in the hallway and feels her lungs collapse.
"Screw it. It's just paperwork," he whispers in her ear and her delight is drowsy and heavy-lidded.
"Okay."
With that simple word, they're off through the halls, exhilarated and giddy, both giggling and clutching one another's hands. They're so wrapped up in each other that they don't notice the technician they almost run over, or the odd looks from the lower-ranked cadets, or even Commander Cruger's disapproving look for making so much noise in the halls. By the time they arrive at Bridge's room, both are breathless and built up, looking for release.
She presses him against his door and he feels his muscles tighten. The door slides open, and they manage to stumble inside without falling. Her uniform jacket hits the floor before the door even closes behind them; her hands slide under his t-shirt, where she finds a strong back and solid abs…He separates his mouth from hers just long enough to get his shirt over his head.
Oh, God…she stops for a moment and takes in his chest. Sky may have the model's body, but Bridge… "Bridge…" She runs her hands gently over the muscles, marveling at the way they shake under her fingers. He takes her hands, kisses each palm, she can't help the little noises that come from her throat when he does.
She's never known this before, never known that her body could respond like this to someone's touch…she doesn't think he does, either, because when she lays kisses on his collarbone she notices his eyes flutter closed…His hands move under her camisole, higher, higher—she gasps, a catching sound at the back of her throat—
"RANGERS TO THE COMMAND CENTER! RANGERS TO THE COMMAND CENTER!"
The alarm blares, and they leap apart, their instincts on overdrive. They stare at each other for only a second before reality sets in. Bridge manages to pull on his t-shirt and they rush out the door. Syd, Jack, and Sky are already standing at attention, waiting for them. Syd shoots Z a strange look at her lack of uniform jacket, but Z pretends not to notice.
"Ready?" Jack calls.
"Ready!"
"SPD emergency!"
"God, Z, what's with your hair? I mean, your hair is usually pretty weird, but I think today it's just…indescribable."
Z doesn't even notice Syd's snarky comment; instead, she's staring after Bridge, who leaves the command center hastily after locking her gaze for a moment.
"Z? I'm trying to insult you, and you're not even listening."
"Sure, whatever, Syd."
"You're no fun—hey, this is Bridge's jacket. Wonder what it's doing on the floor…?"
Z's head snaps around at the mention of Bridge's name, and stares at the jacket as if it's the Holy Grail.
"Maybe it was warm in here earlier. He probably just forgot it. Here, I'll take it to him." She fairly grabs the jacket out of Syd's hands, eliciting a startled squeak from the pink ranger.
"Hey!" she calls after Z's retreating back. Getting no response, she sighs loudly. "Honestly. Sometimes, I really wonder how I manage to live with her."
Z hesitates at Bridge's closed bedroom door, clutching his jacket tightly. Knocking lightly, she calls through the door.
"Bridge? Uh, it's me, Z. I wanted—"
The door quickly hisses open, revealing Bridge standing just inside.
"Z," he says breathlessly. "I, uh…I'd hoped you'd come. I mean, come in."
She steps inside, almost nervous, fiddling with his jacket.
"Is that my—" he begins. She seems to wake from her trance.
"Oh!" she breathes. "Yes. Yes, this is yours. I um, well, Syd found this on the floor of the command center…I thought you'd like it back." She holds it out to him, and his gloved fingers brush hers as he takes it. Heat radiates from the spot.
"Oh. Thanks. And uh,I put yours on the chair…"
"Okay."
They fall into a thick, awkward silence. Bridge shifts his weight and looks anywhere but Z; she in turn stares at the floor. Finally, he takes a step forward and cups her cheek gently in his hand, giving her a soft, open-mouthed kiss.
"What was that?" she asks. His hand is warm on her cheek.
"That was…that was me telling you that…well, that I meant what I said before. I do want to be closer to you, Z. Not just close like we were before—I mean, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want that, too—" A blush heats the tips of his ears, and she smiles. "But I don't want just… that with you. I…I want—"
She interrupts him with a kiss of her own, and murmurs, "I want to be closer to you too, Bridge."
He smiles and kisses her—slow, gentle, warm, lingering…
Their uniform jackets find a permanent home on the floor.
Well, there it is...Hope you liked it! Huge thanks to all my reviewers, every last one of them (I love you all!)