fic: the sweetest sadness
Title: The Sweetest Sadness
Fandom: Original
Character/Pairing: Penelope, Rupert/Penelope,
Rating: PG-13
Summary: She can hear her name being shouted;
Notes: For fireworkfiasco's birthday.
Title taken from Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy.
Picture from Froststick at Deviant Art
She's walking through some place she's never been before. She has no idea where she is. She looks around, trying to take things in; the sky, the trees, the ground. It's probably not important, but she always likes to know where she is.
She can faintly hear someone calling her name, over and over and over.
He's calling her name, over and over and over.
She can hear her name being shouted. She blinks; makes a face, rubs the sleep out of her eyes.
Sighing, she gets out of bed and wanders to the balcony, in only her underwear and the flimsy t-shirt that she wears to bed.
"What the f-"
He's standing outside.
"Get down here!" he hollers up at her.
She shakes her head at him. But she walks back inside, and makes her way out of her apartment anyway, grabbing a long cardigan she has hanging on the back of her door, down the stairs and outside. She unlocks the foyer door, and steps outside, closing it behind her.
"What are you doing?" she asks him, as nonchalant as she can, wrapping her cardigan around her.
"I just wanted to talk to you."
"At three in the morning?"
He looks at his watch.
"I'm sorry."
She smiles, shakes her head. "It's okay," she can't be mad at him, not really.
He steps closer to her, and she's surprised at how different he looks in the light of the street lamp and nothing else.
"So-" her voice catches in her throat and she has to start again. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"
He stares at her, like she should already know the answer.
"You know what."
He steps a little closer to her and she realises they're now just inches apart. His face is suddenly so serious. She realises she's forgotten to breathe. She finally takes a breath, it comes in sharper than she had anticipated; and at the same moment, he steps closer to her and bridges the gap and suddenly he's kissing her and she's kissing him back and why had she never thought of this before now?
This is insane.
And his hands (his hands) are on her back and in her hair and on her face and oh, his hands are so soft and hard and gentle and willing and wonderfully perfect.
And she has this almost sinking feeling in her stomach. But it's not the sad aching of missing someone (she knows that feeling well); it's more than that. It's like a thankful cry of having someone back in your arms.
She sighs against his mouth, and before she can stop him, he pulls back.
She opens her eyes only to find his staring at her. Her breath catches in her throat, and he kisses her again, and she can't breathe, but she really doesn't care anymore. His hands are on her face again, and she melts against his touch.
He pulls away from her, and steps back.
"I just wanted to let you know-"
She nods, "-yeah."
"Night."
"Night," she closes her eyes, and wraps her arms around herself, the cold night air finally hitting her skin.
She opens her eyes, and there's no sign of him. His familiar vanilla taste still lingers on her lips. She takes a breath and makes her way back to her bed.
Fandom: Original
Character/Pairing: Penelope, Rupert/Penelope,
Rating: PG-13
Summary: She can hear her name being shouted;
Notes: For fireworkfiasco's birthday.
Title taken from Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy.
Picture from Froststick at Deviant Art
She's walking through some place she's never been before. She has no idea where she is. She looks around, trying to take things in; the sky, the trees, the ground. It's probably not important, but she always likes to know where she is.
She can faintly hear someone calling her name, over and over and over.
He's calling her name, over and over and over.
She can hear her name being shouted. She blinks; makes a face, rubs the sleep out of her eyes.
Sighing, she gets out of bed and wanders to the balcony, in only her underwear and the flimsy t-shirt that she wears to bed.
"What the f-"
He's standing outside.
"Get down here!" he hollers up at her.
She shakes her head at him. But she walks back inside, and makes her way out of her apartment anyway, grabbing a long cardigan she has hanging on the back of her door, down the stairs and outside. She unlocks the foyer door, and steps outside, closing it behind her.
"What are you doing?" she asks him, as nonchalant as she can, wrapping her cardigan around her.
"I just wanted to talk to you."
"At three in the morning?"
He looks at his watch.
"I'm sorry."
She smiles, shakes her head. "It's okay," she can't be mad at him, not really.
He steps closer to her, and she's surprised at how different he looks in the light of the street lamp and nothing else.
"So-" her voice catches in her throat and she has to start again. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"
He stares at her, like she should already know the answer.
"You know what."
He steps a little closer to her and she realises they're now just inches apart. His face is suddenly so serious. She realises she's forgotten to breathe. She finally takes a breath, it comes in sharper than she had anticipated; and at the same moment, he steps closer to her and bridges the gap and suddenly he's kissing her and she's kissing him back and why had she never thought of this before now?
This is insane.
And his hands (his hands) are on her back and in her hair and on her face and oh, his hands are so soft and hard and gentle and willing and wonderfully perfect.
And she has this almost sinking feeling in her stomach. But it's not the sad aching of missing someone (she knows that feeling well); it's more than that. It's like a thankful cry of having someone back in your arms.
She sighs against his mouth, and before she can stop him, he pulls back.
She opens her eyes only to find his staring at her. Her breath catches in her throat, and he kisses her again, and she can't breathe, but she really doesn't care anymore. His hands are on her face again, and she melts against his touch.
He pulls away from her, and steps back.
"I just wanted to let you know-"
She nods, "-yeah."
"Night."
"Night," she closes her eyes, and wraps her arms around herself, the cold night air finally hitting her skin.
She opens her eyes, and there's no sign of him. His familiar vanilla taste still lingers on her lips. She takes a breath and makes her way back to her bed.