Whirlwind
Title: Whirlwind
Fandom: UnReal
Characters: Adam/Rachel
Rating: PG-13.
Notes: I needed an inch of happiness after that finale, so fluff happened.
Adam has never had a woman take a nap on him before.
He’s accustomed to prim and proper women-ladies-the kind that know how to speak without ever truly voicing their thoughts, smile without crinkling the skin around their eyes, and sip tea without making a sound. That and then, of course, the other kind, the pay-by-the-hour kind that will whisper in his ear all the sweet things his mother should have told him and then leave before he can catch his breath. Neither kind of woman would be caught dead around him with their eyes closed, least they snore or drool or miss a payment.
But he’s wholly unprepared when Rachel bursts into his room (like a whirlwind,always moving in about a thousand different directions at once). “It’s a nightmare out there-seventh’s layer of Dante’s Inferno,” she says. “Quinn’s on a rampage and they’re all out of coffee, I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind.” She somehow simultaneously slings off her bag, her head piece, and wiggles out of her pants in one fluid motion. “Move over. I’ve got about fifteen minutes before she sends hellhounds.”
Adam used to think boyshorts were an ugly way to wrap a pretty package. On Rachel? He wants to take them off with his teeth. “Fifteen minutes? You underestimate me.”
She rolls her eyes, sets the alarm on her phone, and says, “It’s this thing called a powernap. I don’t know-look it up, maybe?”
“What? Here?” Even he’s surprise by the horror in his voice.
She sets her phone on the table and then sprawls out on the couch, her head in his lap. “Yeah, thanks, wake me up if the place is on fire.” And, before he knows it, she’s already breathing heavy, eyes closed. Adam has absolutely no idea what to do. Should he watch TV to pass the time? Will that wake her up or keep her asleep? Should he run his hand over her back to ensure she has good dreams? Should he move that strand of hair out of her face that vibrates with every breath? Should he pull her shirt down to avoid that bare patch of skin above her hip all too tempting to touch?
For a full fifteen minutes, he turns into a gargoyle and does nothing. Hands by his side, afraid to disturb her. About five minutes in, he feels a puddle of drool grow on his thigh. He thinks she’s beautiful when she sleeps.
The loud bleep of her alarm makes him jerk. Rachel’s eyes flash open and she jumps up, swears under her breath, and turns off the alarm before yanking her pants back on.
“Feel better, Sleeping Beauty?” he asks.
“Yeah, great. Thanks for that.” She’s already putting on her headpiece.
“You’re remarkable,” he says. He hopes she hears that he means it.
Instead, she’s out the door. “Yeah-yeah. I’m here,” she says curtly into the radio. And then she’s gone again, in and out. Adam rubs his thumb over the damp drool spot on his thigh. These are nice pants. He’s amazed by how little he cares. Whirlwind. And, despite his better judgement, he’s completely swept up in it.
Fandom: UnReal
Characters: Adam/Rachel
Rating: PG-13.
Notes: I needed an inch of happiness after that finale, so fluff happened.
Adam has never had a woman take a nap on him before.
He’s accustomed to prim and proper women-ladies-the kind that know how to speak without ever truly voicing their thoughts, smile without crinkling the skin around their eyes, and sip tea without making a sound. That and then, of course, the other kind, the pay-by-the-hour kind that will whisper in his ear all the sweet things his mother should have told him and then leave before he can catch his breath. Neither kind of woman would be caught dead around him with their eyes closed, least they snore or drool or miss a payment.
But he’s wholly unprepared when Rachel bursts into his room (like a whirlwind,always moving in about a thousand different directions at once). “It’s a nightmare out there-seventh’s layer of Dante’s Inferno,” she says. “Quinn’s on a rampage and they’re all out of coffee, I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind.” She somehow simultaneously slings off her bag, her head piece, and wiggles out of her pants in one fluid motion. “Move over. I’ve got about fifteen minutes before she sends hellhounds.”
Adam used to think boyshorts were an ugly way to wrap a pretty package. On Rachel? He wants to take them off with his teeth. “Fifteen minutes? You underestimate me.”
She rolls her eyes, sets the alarm on her phone, and says, “It’s this thing called a powernap. I don’t know-look it up, maybe?”
“What? Here?” Even he’s surprise by the horror in his voice.
She sets her phone on the table and then sprawls out on the couch, her head in his lap. “Yeah, thanks, wake me up if the place is on fire.” And, before he knows it, she’s already breathing heavy, eyes closed. Adam has absolutely no idea what to do. Should he watch TV to pass the time? Will that wake her up or keep her asleep? Should he run his hand over her back to ensure she has good dreams? Should he move that strand of hair out of her face that vibrates with every breath? Should he pull her shirt down to avoid that bare patch of skin above her hip all too tempting to touch?
For a full fifteen minutes, he turns into a gargoyle and does nothing. Hands by his side, afraid to disturb her. About five minutes in, he feels a puddle of drool grow on his thigh. He thinks she’s beautiful when she sleeps.
The loud bleep of her alarm makes him jerk. Rachel’s eyes flash open and she jumps up, swears under her breath, and turns off the alarm before yanking her pants back on.
“Feel better, Sleeping Beauty?” he asks.
“Yeah, great. Thanks for that.” She’s already putting on her headpiece.
“You’re remarkable,” he says. He hopes she hears that he means it.
Instead, she’s out the door. “Yeah-yeah. I’m here,” she says curtly into the radio. And then she’s gone again, in and out. Adam rubs his thumb over the damp drool spot on his thigh. These are nice pants. He’s amazed by how little he cares. Whirlwind. And, despite his better judgement, he’s completely swept up in it.