HT100 FlashFic Challenge #29: Dance, Pinocchio, Dance! -- "A Kiss is Just a Kiss?"
Title: A Kiss is Just a Kiss?
Prompt: 29 - Dance, Pinocchio, Dance! (manipulation)
Characters: Keller, Bonnie
Timeframe: Season Three
Word Count: 512
Authors Note: Also written for the Kiss-a-Thon over at oz_wishing_well. Crossposted to both places, because I'm all about the killing of two birds prompts with one stone fic. :D
A Kiss is Just a Kiss
by Severina
“So I thought you could come down and see me this weekend,” Chris says. He glances out into the quad, frowns and angles his body away from the other men waiting impatiently in line outside the glass door. He runs his fingers smoothly down the phone cord and closes his eyes, pictures his hand wrapped around Bonnie’s pale dimpled thigh, the round gasped moue of her lips when he’d tease her. The way she’d beg. “It’s been too long, baby.”
He hears a shift on her end of the line, the rustle of cloth and the flick of her lighter, and hopes she’s picturing it too. Knows she’s not by the way she sucks in a breath, lets it out in a sigh.
“It’s a long drive,” she says.
“Yeah,” he breathes, not willing to give up just yet. “But baby, I need to see you.”
Another sigh, this one even more protracted. “What’s in it for me?”
His lips twist, and he hunches his shoulders against the wall, lets the cord slip from his grasp. “You got something better to do? I’m stuck in here for the rest of my life, Bonnie. The rest of my fucking life!” He hears his voice spiral up and out of control, draws it back in. “I’m asking for a couple of hours out of your day. Just a little human companionship.”
When she says nothing, he lowers his voice again, cradles the receiver in his palm and croons into the phone. “I just need to touch you,” he says.
For a moment he thinks she might just hang up, and he almost wouldn’t blame her after that thing in Jersey. But then--
“A hundred bucks.”
Bonnie has always been practical. Chris presses his lips together, rests his forehead against the wall. “Done.”
“I’ll be there on Saturday.”
Chris stifles his sigh of relief. “Okay,” he says. “And Bonnie? Wear red. I love you in red.”
* * *
She lights up when she sees him, because despite her bitching, despite the memories of every monumental fuck-up in their twined pasts, despite Jersey, some part of her still loves him and always will. For his part, Chris doesn’t have to feign the passion. The sight of Bonnie still makes his mouth water, makes his dick hard. Because when it worked, they were really fucking great together.
And even as he’s pressing into her, devouring her with his mouth, trying to touch every inch of her, re-memorize all the warm soft parts of her before the hacks step in and pull them apart, he’s aware of Sister Pete’s eyes on his back. He imagines he can feel the anxiety floating from the nun’s body like invisible wires, like the scent-lines that drifted from Pig-Pen’s form in those comic books his little brother used to read as a kid.
Chris grins against Bonnie’s neck, and when she coos and runs her fingers through the fine hair at his nape he murmurs soft words into her ear, and lets her believe that the smile is all for her.
.
Prompt: 29 - Dance, Pinocchio, Dance! (manipulation)
Characters: Keller, Bonnie
Timeframe: Season Three
Word Count: 512
Authors Note: Also written for the Kiss-a-Thon over at oz_wishing_well. Crossposted to both places, because I'm all about the killing of two birds prompts with one stone fic. :D
A Kiss is Just a Kiss
by Severina
“So I thought you could come down and see me this weekend,” Chris says. He glances out into the quad, frowns and angles his body away from the other men waiting impatiently in line outside the glass door. He runs his fingers smoothly down the phone cord and closes his eyes, pictures his hand wrapped around Bonnie’s pale dimpled thigh, the round gasped moue of her lips when he’d tease her. The way she’d beg. “It’s been too long, baby.”
He hears a shift on her end of the line, the rustle of cloth and the flick of her lighter, and hopes she’s picturing it too. Knows she’s not by the way she sucks in a breath, lets it out in a sigh.
“It’s a long drive,” she says.
“Yeah,” he breathes, not willing to give up just yet. “But baby, I need to see you.”
Another sigh, this one even more protracted. “What’s in it for me?”
His lips twist, and he hunches his shoulders against the wall, lets the cord slip from his grasp. “You got something better to do? I’m stuck in here for the rest of my life, Bonnie. The rest of my fucking life!” He hears his voice spiral up and out of control, draws it back in. “I’m asking for a couple of hours out of your day. Just a little human companionship.”
When she says nothing, he lowers his voice again, cradles the receiver in his palm and croons into the phone. “I just need to touch you,” he says.
For a moment he thinks she might just hang up, and he almost wouldn’t blame her after that thing in Jersey. But then--
“A hundred bucks.”
Bonnie has always been practical. Chris presses his lips together, rests his forehead against the wall. “Done.”
“I’ll be there on Saturday.”
Chris stifles his sigh of relief. “Okay,” he says. “And Bonnie? Wear red. I love you in red.”
* * *
She lights up when she sees him, because despite her bitching, despite the memories of every monumental fuck-up in their twined pasts, despite Jersey, some part of her still loves him and always will. For his part, Chris doesn’t have to feign the passion. The sight of Bonnie still makes his mouth water, makes his dick hard. Because when it worked, they were really fucking great together.
And even as he’s pressing into her, devouring her with his mouth, trying to touch every inch of her, re-memorize all the warm soft parts of her before the hacks step in and pull them apart, he’s aware of Sister Pete’s eyes on his back. He imagines he can feel the anxiety floating from the nun’s body like invisible wires, like the scent-lines that drifted from Pig-Pen’s form in those comic books his little brother used to read as a kid.
Chris grins against Bonnie’s neck, and when she coos and runs her fingers through the fine hair at his nape he murmurs soft words into her ear, and lets her believe that the smile is all for her.
.