Fic: Candy Wine (Summer/Sasha)
Hello...hello...ello...ello...lo...
No I'm not dead or injured. I've been busy with a job (I hate) and more drama than anyone should have to deal with in a life time. I'm sorry to anyone that actually stops by in the hopes that I'm writing something. It's been a while and for that I'm sorry. I'll post a more indepth post about my activities in the next one. This is reserved for an actual story. *enter gasp of shock here* The dry spell I've been riding has had a lot to do with my job and the fact that nothing has been inspiring me lately, but yesterday I sat down with a goal: finish a story and a video, two videos if I'm feeling daring. Well I'm proud to say I finished the story and a video is half way done. *grin* I hope you enjoy the story. Be kind it has been a while since I've written anything. Thanks!
Title: Candy Wine
Author: Jailynn
Word Count: 1521
Warning: Not edited
Fandom: Make it or Break it
Rating: G
Couple: Summer and Sasha
Author's Notes: Missing scene from Season 2 Episode 4 “And the Rocky Goes To...” (If you haven't watched and/or don't watch, it's not really important. Basically Summer gets drunk at a banquet after she finds out she has to speak in front of a crowd.)
Feedback: Uh-huh, please and thank you
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Summer tilts her head toward the cool pane of glass, closing her eyes and counting the number of foolish things she said and did that night. She nearly groans out loud when she reaches the double digits. How in the world is she going to face the parents at the Rock after that display? Pulling Sasha's jacket tighter around her shoulders, she breaths as slowly and quietly as possible. Sasha's eyes graze over her face, she can feel their gentle caress. The urge to groan again takes hold of her, only this time it has little to do with embarrassment and more to do with her insane crush on him. His soft hand brushes the skin of her thigh as he shifts gears. For a split second her entire body stills and all her focus shifts with his hand. Her head feels light and that's only partly because of the wine she drank to give her the courage to speak at the banquet.
Why can't she just let go this 'doomed from the start' desire to be with him? They don't match. The cons definitely out weigh the pros... Summer lifts her left hand and presses it against her forehead. Maybe thinking too deeply while drunk, well not drunk, but for sure heavily tipsy isn't the smartest idea. Not that she really needs to think too hard about it. Sasha was and is on a different track than her. She wants it all. God, love, marriage, friendship, the house with a picket fence. He made it quite clear yesterday that marriage wasn't an interest...right?
The throbbing above her eye turns into a sharp bolt of pain and Summer pushes her thoughts as far back as she can. The sound of gravel crunching under the tires of his vehicle pulls her back to the immediate present. She cracks her right eye then her left eye open as he pulls into her driveway. She forces her body out of the slump it slid into on the ride to her residence. Summer intentionally doesn't look at him as she pushes the button on the seat belt. She really didn't want to see his smirk at her Mayberry-ish townhouse. Gathering her purse and shoes, when had those come off, she sends him a quick smile and pulls the handle on the door. Best not to make this awkward night last any longer than it has to. Climbing out, Summer stumbles a little as she tries to slide her black slingbacks back on.
Her balance gives way and she feels her equilibrium shift in favor of the hard concrete that made up her driveway. His large, warm hand wraps around her arm searing her skin even through the material of his jacket, while his other arm curls around her waist. Oh this isn't good. He smells of sandalwood and that unique 'Sasha' scent that causes her to have very vivid and very un-Christian like fantasies. Summer's heart pounds in her chest. She looks up into his pure blue eyes. The moment holds. She knows somewhere in her muddled brain that she should be pushing away now. This is the time to reenforce that 'will not give into her crush' rule she put into affect. Sasha lets go of her upper arm and brushes some blonde hair from her eye. She inhales sharply. Why did she put that rule into affect again?
Summer is still thinking about that when his accented, boy she loves that accent, voice wafts through all the cobwebs. “Are you steady enough to walk now?”
And just like that all the reasons she should, and will be, embarrassed come flooding back. He isn't holding her because he wants to, no, he is holding her because she got drunk and then loss her balance. Summer straightens her spine with as much dignity as she can with her cheeks burning and smiles at him. “Yes, I am, thank you,” she's relieved to hear that her voice isn't slurring.
Moving away from him, and nearly whimpering at the loss of his warmth, she continues up her driveway. Mentally Summer's cataloging all the things about her small home that he could find humor in. There's the flower boxes in the window, filled to overflowing with marigolds and geraniums. Next to the front door is a little white bunny dressed in a suit holding a “welcome” sign. A small black iron table and chairs set is just to the left of the door. She laughs to herself. What's a little more embarrassment? The back of her head and stomach starts hurting in unison.
“I don't feel so good,” she tells him.
He falls into step behind her, “Well just make sure you have something to eat. And drink as much water as you can.”
She pulls his jacket even more tightly around her shoulders. “I, I feel really, really silly.” Summer turns and laughs a little. Sasha smiles back. “I- I haven't been this tipsy since my college graduation.” The nervous giggles bubble up inside her, interrupting her words. The situation really is so ridiculous. She slides his jacket from her shoulders, trying to salvage some small piece of dignity. That goes out the window as she once again loses her balance, only this time she falls into him. “Whoops.”
“Oh,” Sasha steadies her. Her hands flex against his chest for half a second, okay maybe a whole second. His body is like a warm wall. So strong. She looks down, laughing self-consciously again. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” the word escapes her lips on a sigh. They smile at each other. His cobalt eyes twinkling in the light from her porch lamp. She can't stop the wave of desire that floods her. The need to kiss and touch and be held by him almost overwhelms her. Summer is practical, logical, doesn't give way to fancy, but with him she almost lets go of all that. He licks his lips and they both look down. Her hands twist together as she tries to get her heart under control.
“So this is where you live,” Summer holds her breath waiting for the jokes about convention or predictability. She drops her eyes completely from him, preferring to stare at the ground under her shiny black shoes. “It's nice.” It's nice? Her head rises slowly. He shifts the jacket in his hand and looks around him. “It's very...homey.” His eyes collide with hers and a smile pulls at his lips.
Her mouth tightens into an uncomfortable expression. Homey? Is that an insult? A compliment? A joke? She never knows with him. One minute he can be such a jerk, the next he can be funny and charming, and then after that he can be loving and fatherly to the girls at the gym. Summer just can't get a read on him. Deciding to take it as a compliment, after all she is, if nothing else, an optimist. “You too could live in a beautiful, homey house some day. Except you never want to get married.”
Sasha shakes his head, “Who said I never wanted to get married?”
Her blue eyes narrow and shift to the side. “Uh,” bringing them back to his and says in a confused voice. “I thought you did.”
“I think it would be great to be married.” Her stomach launches itself into her chest and her heart jolts. Then he continues to pull her in, pull her under. “It would have to be the right woman.”
Summer's last barrier breaks. Such a simple statement. So honest. He's always honest. And for the first time, she can see some of her own values in him. He does believe, maybe not in God, but in love and that is only one step away from believing in Him. She rocks side to side, her body leaning towards him. Then she does something. She can blame it on the booze later if its the wrong move, but at the moment it feels right and perfect. She gives him a sign. She angles her head up and takes a small step towards him. That's all he needs. Sasha rests his hand on her cheek and leans down to bridge the space between them.
Their lips touch, sliding against each other. Her heart floats above her body, heat builds in her lower belly. She feels drunker than before. His kiss is sweet, like candy. It tastes heavenly on her tongue. He pulls back, much sooner than she is ready for, and smiles at her. Turning around, Sasha leaves her on the porch and heads back to his car. Summer watches his every move, rolling the taste of his kiss around her mouth like wine tasters do with a vintage port. She smiles to herself. Candy wine. That's what his presence, his touch, and most importantly his kiss is to her. He can make her drunk with one taste. And for the first time in years, she's thinking about indulging.
The End