A/N: Yes, I'm alive. I've been writing on and off all year, but nothing has been to my liking… yet. I just needed a low-stakes fic to dip my feet back into this fandom's waters, resulting in—*gestures around*—this. I hope you like it. I've been writing for this dead fandom for years, but I love the characters, and I love growing as a writer, so here we are!
In grand Jupiter Queen fashion, I bumped a song that no one cares about but me a million times while writing this ("Away from You" by Charlotte Dos Santos).
Spinning and breathless.
Nikki couldn't set her head straight or recover the air in her lungs.
She only processed the passionate press of a palm against her lower back. Lingering fingertips brushed over her shoulder. Goosebumps spawned along her skin. Wintermint breath greeted her, fresh breath that anticipated kisses like these. Her lips collided against the same ones she chastised herself for fantasizing about. That tongue kept all sane thoughts at a standstill.
Her cognition failed her. Her brain pleaded, "More."
More of what? She didn't know.
More time with him? More kisses? More than kisses?
(Knowing him, he'd be down for all of that and more.)
Her tongue worked in tandem with his. She nestled her fingers against the nape of his neck, her fingertips running through his messy hair while her palm rubbed against balmy skin (despite the perpetual chill of the rink). The snug elastic band from the dead flower on her wrist jump-started her cognition.
Jonesy Garcia swept her into the eye of his hurricane again.
Her awareness expanded. The trail of tears cried over him had dried.
Though she wanted to part and talk, his soft grunt changed her plans. He enticed her lips into extra time. She mewled. Talking could wait.
They went on and on and on for another minute before she stepped mere centimeters away from him, parting with a sharp inhale.
"Wow." She cleared her throat. Her fingertips briefly swiped at her tingling lips. Her hands dropped near her thighs; they fiddled with her corsage. She stared at the metal platform beneath her sneakers. (She could've sworn that they stood on clouds moments ago.) Her gaze flitted back up, meeting his own half-lidded eyes that never left her face.
For once, the curl in his lips didn't carry smugness.
"Wow, what?" His tone teased her.
"Don't act like you don't know."
"Yeah, buuuuuuut I wanna hear you say it." He flashed his pearly whites at her.
Such a simple action reduced her insides to a puddle. He dripped with natural charm. Only he could turn bleachers into blue skies and cloud nine. She hated it. She didn't want it to end. Regardless, she regained her composure and rolled her eyes. "I'd rather make you read between the lines and guess for once. Put that brain of yours to use."
He crossed his arms. His brows lowered as his lips briefly flattened into a straight line. "Funny: Last week, you told me I don't have a brain."
"Well,"—her mocking expression melted into something softer—"it takes a lot of thought to show up the way you did tonight. So…"
He grabbed her by the waist and coerced her closer. She pressed her palms against his suit-clad chest. Her neck craned with the action as she gazed at her much taller… friend? Not anymore. Partner? Too sterile. Lover? Too Caitlin. Boy toy? Oh, hell no. Significant other? More like significant bother. Boyfriend? Hmm…
"I didn't have to think too much." He shrugged. "Shit didn't feel right without you, so I just left." He squinted, causing his long nose to crinkle. "Plus, Darth kinda told me where you were."
She chuckled, then glanced at her flower-decorated wrist. Her brow raised at him. "And the corsage…?"
"Jen's. She said you'd like it."
Her voice shrunk to a size matching her tiny smile (and stature). "I love it."
He lifted one hand away from her waist, raising her chin as he leaned down for a quick kiss, one she gladly reciprocated. When they parted, he pecked her cheek, then her jaw, then her neck. Her head lolled to the side, giving him ease of access. He lingered there, planting his plush, warm lips against her tender skin. Each kiss swept her away more than the last. She softly moaned.
Before they ended up kissing all night, she interjected, "Don't we still have a dance to go to?"
He slowly retreated with a groan. He straightening his stance, and locked eyes with her. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for reminding me, babe."
Butterflies swarmed around her chest. Babe. She could get used to that.
"C'mon," she said, grabbing his hand and leading him down from the bleachers.
As they vacated the rink and neared the retail storefronts, they walked beside one another. The mall had turned into a ghost town. After all, he did storm inside for her, so everyone cleared way for him. …Well, she wanted to indulge in that fantasy. Truthfully, the mall only stayed open because of the Khaki Barn and a couple other stores holding after-hours sales.
En route to wherever she guided them, he'd interlocked their fingers, gently squeezing her hand in the process.
It already felt like a welcome change from their first attempt at anything romantic. Her heart stayed open for him.
When they arrived outside the locked Khaki Barn, he asked, "We about to celebrate Midnight Madness?"
She released his hand only to unlock the security gate. "No, dummy," she said with her back facing him, "I gotta go put on my dress."
"I knew that, gorgeous." He helped her slide the gate open.
Upon entering the store, she wanted to call him handsome in return, but she refrained.
Am… Am I shallow for being into him saying all this flattering shit?
Or did it make her human for missing sweet somethings from someone she still liked? (Liked underestimated the situation. She harbored an ocean of feelings for him. So much unexplored territory to dive headfirst into.)
She didn't know. It didn't make her feel bad. It made her feel… wanted.
While she pondered, she walked towards the back room where she'd earlier shed her dress. "Be right back." She spun around to see his face. "And, no, you cannot join me, Jonesy."
"Hey, I won't look… much." He waggled his brows and purred.
She rolled her eyes (despite the smirk on her face) and disappeared from his view. Minutes later, she reemerged into the main store, wearing her purple dress and matching short heels.
"So," she started as she approached him, "how do I look?"
He smiled, walking in her direction. "Like my girlfriend."
Her face fell pensive. She froze in her path. "So, does this mean…?"
His smile, too, fell. He adopted a serious tone. "Well, yeah. I want you to be. For real this time." He stepped towards her and held her hands.
"You know what that means, right?" She maintained piercing eye contact with him, not allowing his warm touch to make her falter. "Consistent dates. Consistent effort. Not being scared to call me your girl when people ask. Having—I don't know—deep conversations with me. Reintroducing me to your parents as your girlfriend. Not treating me like I'm just one of the boys." She lightened the mood with a coy smile. "Knowing I'm not easy."
He let go of her hands. Instead, he reached for the underside of her chin, gently lifting it. "I already know you're a pain in the butt. But you're everything to me." In a small voice with cast-aside eyes, he admitted, "Besides, I'm not that easy to handle either."
The subtle rise in her lips always prefaced a wry remark. "Guess I've always been the right matador for all your bullshit."
"You are."
She forgot his hand rested beneath her chin until he caressed it with his thumb. Her eyes fell half-lidded. Her head tilted slightly. He went in for the kiss, teasing her lips with the tip of his tongue. Her lips parted to accommodate him. She threw her arms over his shoulders. The band of her corsage grazed the back of his neck.
She didn't remember their kisses being this fervent the first time around. Then again, their first attempt at dating had been marred by awkwardness: reluctance to refer to their hangouts as dates, timid pecks on the lips, and half-hearted PDA around their friends. Even behind closed doors, they shared giddy kisses. Only when they began to put more meaning behind their actions, their botched anniversary froze all motion.
However, every kiss tonight reassured her just as much as his words did. She basked in his stream of affection. His tongue enthralled her. Oxytocin flooded her senses.
He parted, standing upright. He gave her a self-assured smile. "See, I'm already treating you like my girlfriend. I wouldn't kiss one of the boys like that."
"You kissed Jude like that." She giggled behind unmanicured fingertips.
"No, he kissed me! Not the other way around! Not! And definitely not with tongue!" His brow furrowed, and his lanky arms flailed.
She kept laughing. She lived to see him all bent out of shape. "If you say so."
He huffed, puffed, pouted, and stilled. In retaliation, his hand smacked her butt. "How about that?"
She shook her head. Her grin served as the last remnant of her laughter. "News flash, Casanova: You did that to Jude, too, remember?"
"It was an accident, babe! I was aiming for you."
"Sure, you were." Her palms rested atop his shoulders. Her head and eyes lifted to gaze. "You know what you can do that's definitely something you and Jude haven't already done?"
He grinned. His eyelids hung heavy. His hands fell to her waistline, pulling her impossibly close to him. "I can think of a lot of things, actually."
"And we'll get to those in time"—her expression read blank until she smirked—"if you earn it. But you can start by slow dancing with me at school."
"Deal." He spun her around so much tonight, but she didn't expect it to become literal. In seconds, his strong hands guided her waist, coaxing her to turn around. He pulled her so that her back rested against his torso. He wrapped his arms around her hips, gently swaying her. "I'll make it the best slow dance you ever had, beautiful."
She turned her head to meet his eyes in this intimate embrace. Her eyelids fell heavy themselves. The apples of her cheeks rose with a suggestive grin. "We'll see about that… boyfriend."