Fic: Connor and Abby's Jamaican Holiday
AN: It's pre-shippy, set vaguely S3-ish kinda, in an alternate universe where things don't go bananas and they have time for a miniature holiday. Fluffity fluff fluff. Rating: K
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The leaves of the palm trees swayed gently in the warm breeze, edged with a fiery glow from the sun that was setting over the waves that were painted in color.
Connor peeked out around the door, looking around for his friend. He had no idea how she'd managed to convince him to come here with her. Perhaps, he admitted, it had been the sly look in her eyes as she told him he would get to see her in a bikini.
He hadn't really thought the vacation through past that.
"Abby!" He hesitated, and dissapeared back inside. When he emerged reluctantly from the doorway, Connor had a towel wrapped around his hips, the edge of his swim trunks could be seen near the tie of the towel, a loose blue short sleeved T-shirt over his torso.
"Abbs! Where are ya?" He had not, apparently, counted the fact that he would have to wear a swim suit too - or that Abby, in taking over his packing (after he'd thrown the neceseties in, she had pushed him out of his room to pack it for him) - had decided which pairs of swim trunks he would have.
"I'm over here, Conn." He followed the sound of her voice to find his best friend and flatmate lying on a longue chair in the sand, sunglasses on top of her head.
"Dont ya wanna go swimming?" He asked, puzzled, as he came around to sit in the second chair beside hers. Connor looked at her, and thenlookedat her. Wow.
"Connor, you're dribblin'." Abby teased. He blinked, flushing bright red and looking away from her. "Why are you dressed like that?" She added, chuckling. Connor bit his lip.
"Uh, you still 'aven't answered me question." He hedged, gesturing to the ocean. Abby smiled.
"If you're dressed like that we can't go swimming, silly. I was waiting for you, Conn."
His cheeks flamed again, and he chuckled, embarassed.
"Ah, yeah, I knew tha'." Connor said.
"Well?" Abby prompted, a few moments later. Connor looked to her, eyes wide.
"Wh-oh! Oh, right. Erm." He paused, and narrowed his eyes before he seemed to steady himself, and pulled the tee shirt off, focusing his attention on folding it neatly upon the chair to avoid Abby's eyes. He was afraid that she would look at him and find him skinny and the pale little geek. Connor had gotten used to that response, but they hadn't been in a situation like this since the first days of sharing the flat, and he was suddenly utterly self conscious.
"Connor, towel?"
He did not squeak.
Not.
But when he realized Abby was looking at him like he'd looked at her, and she didn't seem to dislike what she saw, he may have squeaked just a little.
"Swimming?" Right, swimming. While the sun was setting, in Jamaica, in the ocean, with the most beautiful and brilliant woman he'd ever met.
If he drowned, he was blaming it on her.
"Why would you do that?!" Abby asked, laughing. Connor groaned.
"I didn't say tha' out loud, did I?!"
"Yep."
"Race ya." He said, untying the towel and letting it drop, ignoring her giggles at the pair of dinosaur-marked swim trunks he wore, and they ran towards the waves lapping at the shore.
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The leaves of the palm trees swayed gently in the warm breeze, edged with a fiery glow from the sun that was setting over the waves that were painted in color.
Connor peeked out around the door, looking around for his friend. He had no idea how she'd managed to convince him to come here with her. Perhaps, he admitted, it had been the sly look in her eyes as she told him he would get to see her in a bikini.
He hadn't really thought the vacation through past that.
"Abby!" He hesitated, and dissapeared back inside. When he emerged reluctantly from the doorway, Connor had a towel wrapped around his hips, the edge of his swim trunks could be seen near the tie of the towel, a loose blue short sleeved T-shirt over his torso.
"Abbs! Where are ya?" He had not, apparently, counted the fact that he would have to wear a swim suit too - or that Abby, in taking over his packing (after he'd thrown the neceseties in, she had pushed him out of his room to pack it for him) - had decided which pairs of swim trunks he would have.
"I'm over here, Conn." He followed the sound of her voice to find his best friend and flatmate lying on a longue chair in the sand, sunglasses on top of her head.
"Dont ya wanna go swimming?" He asked, puzzled, as he came around to sit in the second chair beside hers. Connor looked at her, and thenlookedat her. Wow.
"Connor, you're dribblin'." Abby teased. He blinked, flushing bright red and looking away from her. "Why are you dressed like that?" She added, chuckling. Connor bit his lip.
"Uh, you still 'aven't answered me question." He hedged, gesturing to the ocean. Abby smiled.
"If you're dressed like that we can't go swimming, silly. I was waiting for you, Conn."
His cheeks flamed again, and he chuckled, embarassed.
"Ah, yeah, I knew tha'." Connor said.
"Well?" Abby prompted, a few moments later. Connor looked to her, eyes wide.
"Wh-oh! Oh, right. Erm." He paused, and narrowed his eyes before he seemed to steady himself, and pulled the tee shirt off, focusing his attention on folding it neatly upon the chair to avoid Abby's eyes. He was afraid that she would look at him and find him skinny and the pale little geek. Connor had gotten used to that response, but they hadn't been in a situation like this since the first days of sharing the flat, and he was suddenly utterly self conscious.
"Connor, towel?"
He did not squeak.
Not.
But when he realized Abby was looking at him like he'd looked at her, and she didn't seem to dislike what she saw, he may have squeaked just a little.
"Swimming?" Right, swimming. While the sun was setting, in Jamaica, in the ocean, with the most beautiful and brilliant woman he'd ever met.
If he drowned, he was blaming it on her.
"Why would you do that?!" Abby asked, laughing. Connor groaned.
"I didn't say tha' out loud, did I?!"
"Yep."
"Race ya." He said, untying the towel and letting it drop, ignoring her giggles at the pair of dinosaur-marked swim trunks he wore, and they ran towards the waves lapping at the shore.