First Kiss - Lost - Charlie/Desmond
Title: First Kiss
Pairing: Charlie/Desmond
Word Count: 241
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for comment_fic. Using for lostpicksix's "friends first".
Summary: They're hiding from the rain when Charlie finally finds the courage to kiss Desmond.
He cuts off mid-sentence as he realises that Desmond's fingers are stroking down the stubble on his jaw. That's certainly a new turn to their friendship. His eyes are wide and he looks up at his friend, his psychic, silently questioning.
Desmond's fingers are cold and wet from the rain that still thunders down on the blue tarp of the tent they're huddled under. Both of them are soaked to the skin from the short dash to get under cover. Charlie bloody hates this island and its hormonal weather sometimes. He shivers, but he doesn't think it's from the cold. "Desmond?" Charlie says, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.
Desmond's hand withdraws so quickly that it could have out-raced lightning. It's pretty sodding impressive. "Sorry," he mutters. "I don't know what I was doing."
"Yeah?" Charlie says sceptically. He glances out at the rain for a moment, thinking and psyching himself up. "Well I do."
There are evil butterflies in his stomach as he leans towards Desmond, his hand resting on the other man's shoulder as he presses his lips against Desmond's own. He doesn't think he's ever done anything as nerve-wracking as this simple act in his entire life, but he can't make himself stop - especially not when Desmond shifts against him and cautiously begins to respond.
Sweet and simple, it's all a first kiss should be - the start of their friendship blossoming into something more.
Pairing: Charlie/Desmond
Word Count: 241
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for comment_fic. Using for lostpicksix's "friends first".
Summary: They're hiding from the rain when Charlie finally finds the courage to kiss Desmond.
He cuts off mid-sentence as he realises that Desmond's fingers are stroking down the stubble on his jaw. That's certainly a new turn to their friendship. His eyes are wide and he looks up at his friend, his psychic, silently questioning.
Desmond's fingers are cold and wet from the rain that still thunders down on the blue tarp of the tent they're huddled under. Both of them are soaked to the skin from the short dash to get under cover. Charlie bloody hates this island and its hormonal weather sometimes. He shivers, but he doesn't think it's from the cold. "Desmond?" Charlie says, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.
Desmond's hand withdraws so quickly that it could have out-raced lightning. It's pretty sodding impressive. "Sorry," he mutters. "I don't know what I was doing."
"Yeah?" Charlie says sceptically. He glances out at the rain for a moment, thinking and psyching himself up. "Well I do."
There are evil butterflies in his stomach as he leans towards Desmond, his hand resting on the other man's shoulder as he presses his lips against Desmond's own. He doesn't think he's ever done anything as nerve-wracking as this simple act in his entire life, but he can't make himself stop - especially not when Desmond shifts against him and cautiously begins to respond.
Sweet and simple, it's all a first kiss should be - the start of their friendship blossoming into something more.