Echoes of sense 1/9
Title: Echoes of sense Part 1/9
Author: eruvandeaini (beta'd by the delightful nell_aria - all remaining mistakes completely mine)
Characters: Annie/Mitchell
Rating: T, I s'pose, not very good at judging...
Disclaimer: Not mine, yada yada yada
Summary: Annie and Mitchell find more problems in their mutual attraction than just the obvious undead thing
A/N: A story idea I had, set after the end of the first series, sort of a guess as to how it might go plotwise, and also an excuse to make Annie/Mitchell a bit more overt, because of my inate shipper tendencies.
Annie crossed her arms and rubbed the tops of her arms absently. She was caught in a brief, pointless reverie of the things she missed, and nothing was lifting her out of the mood. She briefly acknowledged that if she were alive, she’d be eating to give herself a lift, but given that food was one of the things she was missing, that didn’t help at all.
“What’s up?” a warm, lightly lilting voice said behind her. She smiled to herself. Mitchell might not be actually edible, but he was very good at cheering her up. He stood behind her, slightly to her left, and hooked an arm round her shoulder, rubbing her hand with his thumb.
“Oh, you know, just missing the feeling of a heartbeat,” she sighed, leaning her head into his shoulder.
“Tell me about it,” he said.
“Do you ever get used to it?”
“Nope. I don’t know what it’s like for ghosts, but it’s one of the things that stokes my craving,” he said in a matter of fact tone.
“Sorry, is this not really helpful?” she asked, and he smiled right up to his eyes and shook his head.
“It’s fine Annie, really. It’s never not helpful to talk to you,” he assured her, squeezing her hand. “C’mon, come and make me a cuppa,” he said, guiding her into the kitchen. She flushed with pleasure, and flicked the kettle on. She followed the little routine of cupboard, cup, milk and put the finished drink down in front of him, sitting opposite him at the kitchen table.
He regaled her with a story she’d heard before, about George having a flap over something, and she listened to his voice contentedly, her head cupped in her hand.
~*~
Later that evening, Annie was curled up on the sofa; Mitchell slouched beside her with his legs stretched on the floor, crossed at the ankles. The blue flicker of the television screen was the only light in the room and they had been sitting in a companionable silence together since George had left with Nina.
Annie shifted her weight and put her head against the side of Mitchell’s shoulder.
“Y’alright?” he asked.
She smiled in response and her eyes darted down.
“Yeah. I was just wondering about the heart thing again,” she said, reaching her hand casually over his t-shirt. She felt him flinch a little, and pulled her hand back again. “Sorry,” she murmured.
“No, no, it’s ok,” he said, smiling, taking hold of her wrist and placing her hand back onto his chest. “I quite like it there. What were you wondering?”
“Oh, nothing much, just how it felt to crave a heartbeat. I mean, I miss having one, but I don’t really get the craving thing,” she said, placing her hand flat against him. He felt firm, real, but there was no gentle thumpety-thump under her palm.
The twinkle in his eyes faded, replaced by a hunted hardness. He thought for a moment, clearly far away in his mind.
“It’s… it’s like the heartbeat is pushing the life back into you. Like this hot pulse that just floods into you, you can feel the faint beat of it when you get close and then when you bite it surges through you. Every cell in your body echoes the beat,” he said, looking into the middle distance, his brow creased. He pressed his hand over hers as he was speaking.
“Pretty intense, then?” she said, and realized that if she still breathed, she would be holding her breath right now.
“That about covers it,” he said, a slight laugh returning to his voice, but his eyes were still clouded. He turned his head to her, meeting her eyes. She must have looked scared because his expression softened and he leaned his forehead against hers.
“Don’t look so worried. I’m not about to go out snacking now. I promise,” he assured her, gently squeezing her hand.
“Okay,” She laughed a little. “But I think I can understand why you’d want to. I mean, the whole killing-people-thing aside, the thought of feeling so alive again is really nice,” she said, keeping her hand under the gentle pressure of his.
Mitchell said nothing, studying her face wordlessly for a moment, shuffling himself upright on the sofa a little more.
“It’s fine while it lasts. But it doesn’t,” he said, pulling her hand from his chest and wrapping his other around it too.
“Does anything?” she asked.
He grinned, shaking his head, “No, I s’pose not. And that’s alright for most things. It’s like sex - it’s nice, but if you did it all the time you’d be knackered.”
“And the chafing!” she laughed, before groaning and rolling her eyes. “Oh, I miss it though. Not as much as I miss chocolate or tea. But you know, once in a while would do me.”
“But not like a craving, though? You just miss it?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Annie felt a blush and she looked down, beginning to pull her hand away, but Mitchell kept hold.
“You’re teasing me,” she said, feeling flustered.
“You know, I think I am,” he grinned, leaning down so that he was looking up at her down-turned face. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her free hand, trying to smother her smile.
“Well, that’s not very kind of you, it’s not like I can do anything about it. You only shouldn’t do it - I can’t even if I wanted to!” She feigned indignance, making a play of trying to twist her hand from his, but he still didn’t let go.
“Why would that be?” he laughed.
“Because I haven’t got a body, and from what I remember, they come in quite handy!”
“You look like you’ve got a body to me!” he responded, freeing her hand and tickling her waist. She squealed with glee, and batted at him ineffectually.
“Get off!” she cried, in between giggles, and after a few more seconds he relented, but didn’t move away. They sat together for a moment, Annie pushed back a little, Mitchell leant over her. She thought for a moment that this should feel awkward, but it didn’t. Being with Mitchell was always casual ease, and he was looking at her with mirth.
“You’re as real as you want to be, Annie,” he said, suddenly serious. “Just like being able to make cups of tea, or sit on chairs, or hold hands.” He entangled his fingers between hers as he spoke. She mentally backtracked on it always being casual ease with Mitchell. It wasn’t at all casual right now, unable to tear herself away from his gaze. She didn’t want to speak, almost like there was a bubble in the air between them, ready to pop at the wrong word. He looked from her eyes to their hands, squeezing a little.
“You can feel that?” he asked.
She followed his gaze, saw the gentle flex of his fingers, and while she couldn’t actually feel it, there was a dim echo of memory that sparked in her mind. She remembered how this would feel, and in the sudden tension of the moment, the echo of it bounced back to her. She nodded.
“There’s nothing to stop you feeling whatever you can remember feeling. Whatever touch you can imagine, you can feel, be it fingers on your hand or lips on your mouth,” he said, his tone noticeably huskier
She registered that his head was closer now, and shyness held her very still.
“Mitchell,” she said, her voice just a whisper.
“Uh-huh,” he said, his eyes focused on her lips.
“Um…” she murmured, her mouth feeling very dry. She licked her lips, and noticed his mouth open a little, “Whatever I can remember, yeah?” she managed. He was millimetres away now, and Annie could almost, almost feel the kinetic energy between them.
There was the briefest of seconds, and their mouths met. Annie imagined the pressure of his lips against hers, closing her eyes and sinking into the kiss, feeling him shift his weight into it too. Her hands instinctively moved to his hair, and she felt his slip round her waist. She knew what this would be like, the soft urgency of his mouth, the warmth of his breath, the pressure of his hands. Letting herself fall further into the memories of sensation, she began to feel a hum in her abdomen, a soft glow that grew with every passing second. Realization hit, and her eyes snapped open. Mitchell broke the kiss and pulled back a few inches.
“What?” he asked, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, but concern in his tone.
“I’m… I’m getting turned on!” Annie said in shocked tones.
“Well you don’t have to sound so surprised!” he laughed, moving in close again to kiss her.
“No, but I really am. I can feel it. You know, properly feel it,” she said against his lips.
“Mmm-uh,” Mitchell murmured, moving from her lips to her face, tracing kisses along her jaw line, and onto her neck.
“It’s not like a memory, though, it’s like real,” she said, beginning to feel a little dizzy, thinking of the brush of his chin against her neck.
“Annie, I get it,” he said into the curve where her shoulder met her neck. “You’re turned on. This… is… entirely appropriate…” He kissed back up her neck, returning to her mouth again.
She let him kiss her fully again, the kiss a little harder now, the glow inside her getting stronger and stronger. She imagined his hands against her waist, slid under the grey top, against her skin, his thumb tracing circles on her belly. She arched against him, breaking the kiss and letting out a delighted moan.
“Oh, wow, Mitchell. How are you doing this?” she said, bewildered.
“I’m not. You are,” he said, taking hold of her mouth with his again. He sucked in her lower lip for a second, then traced his tongue lightly over it. “You never had an erotic dream when you were alive? You think you actually need to be physically having sex to get turned on?”
His words made a kind of sense, but all she could do was hang on the sound of his voice, the heavy passion in his tone, the thought of him touching her as the glow spread down her thighs and up her body. She was getting the knack of focusing on it, and suddenly, there was the sound of crash at the back of the house, and they both froze.
Continued
Author: eruvandeaini (beta'd by the delightful nell_aria - all remaining mistakes completely mine)
Characters: Annie/Mitchell
Rating: T, I s'pose, not very good at judging...
Disclaimer: Not mine, yada yada yada
Summary: Annie and Mitchell find more problems in their mutual attraction than just the obvious undead thing
A/N: A story idea I had, set after the end of the first series, sort of a guess as to how it might go plotwise, and also an excuse to make Annie/Mitchell a bit more overt, because of my inate shipper tendencies.
Annie crossed her arms and rubbed the tops of her arms absently. She was caught in a brief, pointless reverie of the things she missed, and nothing was lifting her out of the mood. She briefly acknowledged that if she were alive, she’d be eating to give herself a lift, but given that food was one of the things she was missing, that didn’t help at all.
“What’s up?” a warm, lightly lilting voice said behind her. She smiled to herself. Mitchell might not be actually edible, but he was very good at cheering her up. He stood behind her, slightly to her left, and hooked an arm round her shoulder, rubbing her hand with his thumb.
“Oh, you know, just missing the feeling of a heartbeat,” she sighed, leaning her head into his shoulder.
“Tell me about it,” he said.
“Do you ever get used to it?”
“Nope. I don’t know what it’s like for ghosts, but it’s one of the things that stokes my craving,” he said in a matter of fact tone.
“Sorry, is this not really helpful?” she asked, and he smiled right up to his eyes and shook his head.
“It’s fine Annie, really. It’s never not helpful to talk to you,” he assured her, squeezing her hand. “C’mon, come and make me a cuppa,” he said, guiding her into the kitchen. She flushed with pleasure, and flicked the kettle on. She followed the little routine of cupboard, cup, milk and put the finished drink down in front of him, sitting opposite him at the kitchen table.
He regaled her with a story she’d heard before, about George having a flap over something, and she listened to his voice contentedly, her head cupped in her hand.
~*~
Later that evening, Annie was curled up on the sofa; Mitchell slouched beside her with his legs stretched on the floor, crossed at the ankles. The blue flicker of the television screen was the only light in the room and they had been sitting in a companionable silence together since George had left with Nina.
Annie shifted her weight and put her head against the side of Mitchell’s shoulder.
“Y’alright?” he asked.
She smiled in response and her eyes darted down.
“Yeah. I was just wondering about the heart thing again,” she said, reaching her hand casually over his t-shirt. She felt him flinch a little, and pulled her hand back again. “Sorry,” she murmured.
“No, no, it’s ok,” he said, smiling, taking hold of her wrist and placing her hand back onto his chest. “I quite like it there. What were you wondering?”
“Oh, nothing much, just how it felt to crave a heartbeat. I mean, I miss having one, but I don’t really get the craving thing,” she said, placing her hand flat against him. He felt firm, real, but there was no gentle thumpety-thump under her palm.
The twinkle in his eyes faded, replaced by a hunted hardness. He thought for a moment, clearly far away in his mind.
“It’s… it’s like the heartbeat is pushing the life back into you. Like this hot pulse that just floods into you, you can feel the faint beat of it when you get close and then when you bite it surges through you. Every cell in your body echoes the beat,” he said, looking into the middle distance, his brow creased. He pressed his hand over hers as he was speaking.
“Pretty intense, then?” she said, and realized that if she still breathed, she would be holding her breath right now.
“That about covers it,” he said, a slight laugh returning to his voice, but his eyes were still clouded. He turned his head to her, meeting her eyes. She must have looked scared because his expression softened and he leaned his forehead against hers.
“Don’t look so worried. I’m not about to go out snacking now. I promise,” he assured her, gently squeezing her hand.
“Okay,” She laughed a little. “But I think I can understand why you’d want to. I mean, the whole killing-people-thing aside, the thought of feeling so alive again is really nice,” she said, keeping her hand under the gentle pressure of his.
Mitchell said nothing, studying her face wordlessly for a moment, shuffling himself upright on the sofa a little more.
“It’s fine while it lasts. But it doesn’t,” he said, pulling her hand from his chest and wrapping his other around it too.
“Does anything?” she asked.
He grinned, shaking his head, “No, I s’pose not. And that’s alright for most things. It’s like sex - it’s nice, but if you did it all the time you’d be knackered.”
“And the chafing!” she laughed, before groaning and rolling her eyes. “Oh, I miss it though. Not as much as I miss chocolate or tea. But you know, once in a while would do me.”
“But not like a craving, though? You just miss it?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Annie felt a blush and she looked down, beginning to pull her hand away, but Mitchell kept hold.
“You’re teasing me,” she said, feeling flustered.
“You know, I think I am,” he grinned, leaning down so that he was looking up at her down-turned face. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her free hand, trying to smother her smile.
“Well, that’s not very kind of you, it’s not like I can do anything about it. You only shouldn’t do it - I can’t even if I wanted to!” She feigned indignance, making a play of trying to twist her hand from his, but he still didn’t let go.
“Why would that be?” he laughed.
“Because I haven’t got a body, and from what I remember, they come in quite handy!”
“You look like you’ve got a body to me!” he responded, freeing her hand and tickling her waist. She squealed with glee, and batted at him ineffectually.
“Get off!” she cried, in between giggles, and after a few more seconds he relented, but didn’t move away. They sat together for a moment, Annie pushed back a little, Mitchell leant over her. She thought for a moment that this should feel awkward, but it didn’t. Being with Mitchell was always casual ease, and he was looking at her with mirth.
“You’re as real as you want to be, Annie,” he said, suddenly serious. “Just like being able to make cups of tea, or sit on chairs, or hold hands.” He entangled his fingers between hers as he spoke. She mentally backtracked on it always being casual ease with Mitchell. It wasn’t at all casual right now, unable to tear herself away from his gaze. She didn’t want to speak, almost like there was a bubble in the air between them, ready to pop at the wrong word. He looked from her eyes to their hands, squeezing a little.
“You can feel that?” he asked.
She followed his gaze, saw the gentle flex of his fingers, and while she couldn’t actually feel it, there was a dim echo of memory that sparked in her mind. She remembered how this would feel, and in the sudden tension of the moment, the echo of it bounced back to her. She nodded.
“There’s nothing to stop you feeling whatever you can remember feeling. Whatever touch you can imagine, you can feel, be it fingers on your hand or lips on your mouth,” he said, his tone noticeably huskier
She registered that his head was closer now, and shyness held her very still.
“Mitchell,” she said, her voice just a whisper.
“Uh-huh,” he said, his eyes focused on her lips.
“Um…” she murmured, her mouth feeling very dry. She licked her lips, and noticed his mouth open a little, “Whatever I can remember, yeah?” she managed. He was millimetres away now, and Annie could almost, almost feel the kinetic energy between them.
There was the briefest of seconds, and their mouths met. Annie imagined the pressure of his lips against hers, closing her eyes and sinking into the kiss, feeling him shift his weight into it too. Her hands instinctively moved to his hair, and she felt his slip round her waist. She knew what this would be like, the soft urgency of his mouth, the warmth of his breath, the pressure of his hands. Letting herself fall further into the memories of sensation, she began to feel a hum in her abdomen, a soft glow that grew with every passing second. Realization hit, and her eyes snapped open. Mitchell broke the kiss and pulled back a few inches.
“What?” he asked, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, but concern in his tone.
“I’m… I’m getting turned on!” Annie said in shocked tones.
“Well you don’t have to sound so surprised!” he laughed, moving in close again to kiss her.
“No, but I really am. I can feel it. You know, properly feel it,” she said against his lips.
“Mmm-uh,” Mitchell murmured, moving from her lips to her face, tracing kisses along her jaw line, and onto her neck.
“It’s not like a memory, though, it’s like real,” she said, beginning to feel a little dizzy, thinking of the brush of his chin against her neck.
“Annie, I get it,” he said into the curve where her shoulder met her neck. “You’re turned on. This… is… entirely appropriate…” He kissed back up her neck, returning to her mouth again.
She let him kiss her fully again, the kiss a little harder now, the glow inside her getting stronger and stronger. She imagined his hands against her waist, slid under the grey top, against her skin, his thumb tracing circles on her belly. She arched against him, breaking the kiss and letting out a delighted moan.
“Oh, wow, Mitchell. How are you doing this?” she said, bewildered.
“I’m not. You are,” he said, taking hold of her mouth with his again. He sucked in her lower lip for a second, then traced his tongue lightly over it. “You never had an erotic dream when you were alive? You think you actually need to be physically having sex to get turned on?”
His words made a kind of sense, but all she could do was hang on the sound of his voice, the heavy passion in his tone, the thought of him touching her as the glow spread down her thighs and up her body. She was getting the knack of focusing on it, and suddenly, there was the sound of crash at the back of the house, and they both froze.
Continued