What I Own: Hair the color of a sunset, 10 cardigans and at least ten pairs of glitter covered heels.
What I don't: Rookie Blue. Yeah, no, it isn't mine. This amazing creation belongs to Tassie Cameron, et al. I just play in her sandbox, as it were. I promise to clean everyone up when I am done.
Author's Note: So, yeah. This wasn't supposed to happen, it just did. You all know the drill. There was music, and a flash and just… yup, hi drabble. That is pretty much how it goes. Yes, this is McCollins. I blame Peter Mooney because that face. Who gave him the right? ANYWAY. This is so far from canon it isn't funny and yet not totally uncanon… at some point at least. You all know how I work: disjointed snippets, loosely connected, blah, blah, blah weddingcakes. (See what I did there?). This isn't happy, not yet, not at all, although I like to think it isn't all sad at all. But tell me what you think… Reviews will be rewarded with praise and babble, and possible sneak peeks of upcoming chapters, maybe a song teaser… something. I don't know. At the very least, gushing thanks and all kinds of love in a PM. I appreciate each and every review and alert I get, seriously. This little series, as with all my work, is rated M for adult situations, drinking and fucking language. If you can't buy smokes or vote where you live, head on out. Anyway, without further babble, here we go. The song for this chapter is 'BTSK' by MS MR. Turn it up LOUD when you start. Questions? Comments? Song suggestions? PM or find me on twitter. Thanks again y'all, you are beautiful.
The sky was covered with a smoky, lavender grey haze that rolled in off the ocean, the heavy dark clouds hanging low over the horizon.
I could see the sun, just barely in the distance, a glimmering orange shimmer that seemed like it would never be fully realized through the impending storm, it just barely glinted of the dark water like a tease.
It was early, very, the blue lights on the unfamiliar clock had pried through the last bit of sleep that I'd gotten. I had slipped out of the large, soft bed, carefully removing the strong arm that was draped over my waist and receiving a mumble of protest from my still sleeping companion.
The room was unfamiliar and it took me a moment to get my bearings as the events of the prior night came flashing back in disjointed images: Music, Gail and Luke's wedding, champagne, a gazebo, a teal silk tie, strong, capable hands un-securing each tiny button that trailed along my spine as I melted.
Tiptoeing across the plush carpet, I grabbed the hastily discarded dress shirt, shrugging into the oversize garment and just inhaling for a moment as I came to my senses, the last of the sleep and champagne stupor floating away.
Glancing over my shoulder, I watched him for a moment, the dim clock light shining on his chiseled jaw, overnight scruff barely visible from where I stood.
Memories of stolen moments flickered through my mind, sending heat rushing up my neck and into my cheeks: that scruff just this side of stinging as it scratched along the sensitive skin of my shoulder, low growls interspersed with murmured endearments and whispered pretty, filthy words against my ear. My wrists captured easily in one hand as I writhed, begging silently for more, please, again, don't stop even as the lasts trains of music floated from the ballroom downstairs.
Shaking my head, I physically brushed the memories aside and crossed to the French doors of the small balcony, very carefully pulling them open and slipping out into the pre-dawn.
The air was chilly and wet, though not unpleasant, although a part of me wished it was. I wanted to be cold, to shiver for a reason other than anticipation or pleasure. The feel of the coming storm hung heavy around me and I leaned my elbows on the railing and shook my head softly, the breeze catching the ends of my disheveled hair and whipping them in front of my eyes, blocking my view as a bright white bolt of lightning flashed somewhere off in the distance and the thunder rolled ominously overhead.
The arm around my waist didn't startle me, though it should have. Instead, I leaned back against Nick's familiar form, my eyes drifting closed as he hummed against my hair, the tangles still heavy with hairspray.
"Come back to bed Andy." It wasn't a question, nor an order but rather a suggestion, heavy and husky with sleep. There was that shiver again, and his fingers easily intertwined with mine, squeezing my hand softly. I tilted my head and stubble rasped against my cheek, the slight scratching bringing a smile to my lips.
"It's going to storm again." My words were barely audible, another crash of thunder echoing overhead just before our lips met and I was gently pulled inside, heavy raindrops spattering against the back of my purloined shirt as the sky opened up and the deluge began.