Fake It 'Til You Make It
By: Riley
Summary - Peter and Brielle already convinced people they're dating when it's all fake. Now they have to convince everyone that they're actually sleeping together. [The Night Witch Modern AU Sneak Peek].
A/N: So I've had my idea of a The Night Witch modern AU called Close Quarters, and it's something I've been working on sporadically for a few years. I hadn't touched it until I randomly got inspiration at work today of thinking, "There's so many 'fake relationship' stories that go the same way. They have to fake it and freak out over kissing but nothing else" and it then slammed into my head that when they're adults they usually freak out of where to sleep but not of how they'd have to fake sex. So with the animosity that Peter and Brielle already have for each other (transplanted from the Night Witch) add in that they're both staying with Professor Kirk while they study medicine AND both get caught up in trying to clear Edmund's name for a crime he didn't commit, this scene from that fic wouldn't leave my head.
Thoughts?
Peter stared at Brielle, sure she had gone mad.
Though, from the serene—almost challenging—smile on her face, she was obviously very serious…and clearly didn't see the issue with the idea that she'd proposed.
What sane woman would say, after getting into the room they were to be sharing and unceremoniously flopping onto the bed, "Right, now, climb on top of me and act like we're having sex." Then again, what sane woman would have been alright with the 'fake dating' arrangement they were in anyway?
Sure, there were plenty of women (and plenty of men) that would agree to dating either of them simply for the chance to say they were. That much had been clear, and the on-the-spot response of "we're dating, but we wanted to keep it quiet" when asked why two people who couldn't stand each other were suddenly spending a lot of time together was a response that made sense. No one else needed to know they were investigating something that Edmund had become roped up into, it was already dangerous for them, no need to put anyone else in it.
And, yeah, they may have played things up a bit with the other members of their little study group that night as they hung out. They held hands, looked at each other lovingly, flirted and gave kisses so that it seemed believable. All the while silently daring each other to be the one to chicken out. Like that power would've been given up.
So, the idea might've been thrown out there when their friends started to make jokes saying they probably needed to wear ear plugs that night or that the 'couple' were going to be sleeping in and sore the next morning. And he might've made a flirty comment saying, "If that's the case, we may as well use the room now while you're awake" and hefted Brielle over his shoulder, one hand on her ass to keep her from falling off as she gave a coquettish wave and trilled a "goodnight," to them as they went.
But that didn't mean they had to go that far.
Brielle rolled her eyes at Peter's stunned silence.
"I don't think I'm asking for much here." She waved a lazy hand towards the door. "They're expecting us to have sex, so they have to hear something. I'm not asking you to actually do anything."
"No, just for me to get on top of you and…" he trailed off, letting out an agitated breath.
At that, Brielle lifted a finger to her chin and blinked innocently at him. "Do you have any performance issues I should know about?"
"Perfor—" Peter sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth and planted his hands on his hips. "No, I don't have any bloody performance issues. I reckon I've never had any complaints, thanks."
"You're welcome." Her swift response made him roll his eyes again. "I already know you're a decent snogger, we've gotten that out of the way." She waved her hand again, this time saying 'you're welcome' to the 'thank you' blink he'd given her. "So, we just need to do this. Perform for our friends once and then sleep on opposite sides of the bed. Or the opposite side of the continent if that's the case." She noticed Peter staring at her. "What?"
"Nothing." He shook his head and folded his arms. "Just that I shouldn't be surprised you're suggesting this. I mean, you are the one who constantly throws herself at the wealthy customers at the coffee shop. So why should it be different that you have no problem with this?"
"You surprise me, Peter. I figured you'd be the kind of guy that could separate the emotion or whatever it is that most blokes, do."
"If by that you mean I can separate how much I want to strangle you most of the time, you'd be right." With that, Peter climbed onto the bed next to her. He got on his hands and knees, feeling silly the whole way, especially under Brielle's annoying smirk, and started to thrust towards the empty space below him. He put a few tries into it before realizing, with even more annoyance, that Brielle was right.
The bed was barely moving at all, didn't even seem like it was making a sound. Or else his embarrassment was muting sound for him. And other than the hushed voices and whispers he could hear of their friends as they moved through the hall—obviously thinking they'd given Peter and Brielle enough time to get things started—there wasn't anything that'd prove their relationship to each other.
"Just shut up and get under me," Peter groused, leaning back on his heels. Brielle smiled smugly, doing as she was told, then settled into place with Peter leaning forward to press his hands into the mattress around her head.
Their eyes locked and they stared at each other for a moment. All pretenses went away. Were they really going to do this? Brielle lifted her chin, lifted an eyebrow. She shimmied her way this and that, finally lining up their lower halves and moved her legs so that he had space to do any movements, reaching up her hands to rest on his wrists.
It would've been funny if it wasn't so…
Peter wasn't quite sure of the word and focused on finding that as he started the thrusting movements. Completely ignored the feeling of his body just lightly hitting against hers enough so that the bed did move and strike the wall.
Just focused on finding the best word to describe what was going on as they were both fully dressed and—what the hell?
He looked down at Brielle as he thrust once more and saw her open her mouth and make a sound. If you could even call it that.
Peter burst out laughing, enough so that some spittle landed on her face, making her wince. Making that strange sound stop as she wiped at her eyes. "What was that?" He stopping long enough to get his laughter out or else he'd collapse against her.
"What was what?"
"That sound you just made."
"I was moaning!"
"That's your moaning?"
"That's the hip action you put into things?" She lifted her chin, sticking her nose in the air. "I pity all the women you've ever been with."
"I haven't had any complaints."
"Neither do I, I have a lovely voice."
Peter rolled his eyes at the same time he rolled his hips, shifting the bed forward at the same time Brielle let out another fake moan. The bed smacked against the wall. "I've heard you singing, Bri, you…have a voice, but lovely isn't the word I'd use to describe it."
"Oh, sod off."
He thrust again, she moaned again, and they both had to work hard to keep from laughing any louder. Which threw off their rhythm, but figured would probably make their scam appear even more real. Finally, after being unsure of how much time had passed, they heard a fist knocking on the wall to their room and a shout of, "We get it, now get off her!" which had they collapse into giggles.
Peter's arms fell out from beneath him, tiring after holding himself up for so long. He quickly apologized and rolled off Brielle's body, and if she said anything in response it was drowned out by the laughter she tried to hide behind her hands.
Finally, when they calmed down enough to settle into the bed Brielle rolled onto her side, bringing her knees up to her chest and cupping her hands under her cheek. She gazed at him and softly said, "I reckon they don't need a repeat performance later in the night, do you?"
Peter turned his head, cocking an eyebrow. Did everything he could not to allow his lips to split into a grin. "And do my head in? No thanks. I don't need to hear you make that sound ever again." He could feel her bristle within seconds of the words leaving him. Waited for the quick barb in response.
But she stayed silent, relaxing.
"Only thing I can say is, if it were the real thing, you're a lousy lay." Her voice was soft and no longer held the teasing, one-upping, smirking, annoying conviction it usually did. This time she sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
"Back at you," Peter replied, bending an arm behind his head.
He was sure he sounded the same.
THE END