Never Really Occurred: Reprise (Fitz)
In his travels with the Doctor, Fitz had had his brain screwed with six ways from Sunday. So he had a better than passing understanding of how to keep a lid on what gets out and what gets in most of the time. This came in particularly handy around his mate Kimber Mac. They’d talked once about how tiring it got for her keeping everyone out of her head and visa versa, so when he double dog dared her to test his noggin she was thrilled that Fitz Kreiner, Inter-Galactic Man of Mystery was basically a spot of white noise to her.
Which was one of the reasons he was crashing at her flat for a while. The Doctor had “Doctor” things to do and Fitz needed a break from “Doctor” things, and Kimber needed some company so it all worked out. After her mini-freak out at the pub Fitz got her home, shucked of bag, coat, and shoes, and tucked up under a fleece in the corner of the sofa. He put on some Sinatra and went to start the tea. Electric kettles still seemed a little wrong somehow but he’d gotten used to it. Once the things were set out and the water was heating he stepped out to check on her. She’d pulled her knees up to support her forehead so all he saw was a lump of long, red curls flowing over the cream fleece. A muffled sound that was probably a sentence wafted from under the lump and he smiled.
“Can’t ‘ear ya duck. Yer gonna need ta come outta there.” He strolled over and sat leaning his side against her legs. “Tea’ll be ready soon, anyway” He moved his arm to curve around her shoulder and softly tangle in her hair.
She raised her head to rest her chin on her knees. “I said I feel like a right 'orse’s arse.” Closing her eyes she started to enjoy the physical sensation of his fingers threading through her hair, brushing the back of her neck. It both tickled and tingled quite nicely. He chuckled and she grimaced. “Fhanks fer yer support, mate.”
Fitz reached over with his other arm and pulled her legs across his lap. “Stop it.” He stroked her fleece-covered calf.
“Honestly,” she groaned leaning her head against his arm, which stopped the nice tingling on her neck she noticed. “I reckon a bloke like you, wifh two girls at a go wouldn’t understand, but I don’t…I’m not used to…ugh” Turning into his arm and letting her hair fall over her face she decided there was no rational way to finish that sentence.
Reaching up Fitz lifted the wall of curls from her face and tucked it over her shoulder. He let his fingers trail softly back along her trazpezius muscle, the thin t-shirt material barely moving as he crossed the neckline and skimmed the bare skin of her neck up to cup her cheek. His thumb barely brushed the freckles, as if not wanting to rub them off. The heat rose under her skin as she blushed and her breathing became just a bit more shallow and quick. Kimber Mac, feeling very out of her depth and unsure looked up, searching for…something…she wasn’t sure what…from Fitz. Deep emerald eyes meet dark chocolate ones full of understanding, caring, that ever present glint of mirth, and…something.
Kimber pulled herself closer til she was almost sitting in his lap, and Fitz brought the hand that was stroking her hair back up to support and kneed her neck under her hair. Hesitantly, she reached up and traced his jawline with her finger, felt the stubble, smelled the aftershave he’d put on before the pub. She moved up to feel his breath warm and soft and a bit faster than normal against her hand. Fitz shifted to move closer and Kimber reached her arms around his neck to steady herself. They both smiled.
She leaned in until their breaths mingled warmly between them, the bourbon he’d drunk still strong and, almost as if she’d been the one to drink it, she began to feel light headed. Her shields were falling, but before she could panic, she realized all she could see, or hear, or feel, was Sinatra, her heart beat increasing, and the lovely wash of white noise that was Fitz. Curiosity took over and she softly slid her tongue along Fitz’s bottom lip to see if she could taste the bourbon and felt his breath catch. He kicked off his boots while moving his hand from her cheek slowly down her side and splayed it across her lower back. Bringing his legs up onto the large sofa, he guided her down alongside him, pulling her close. She clutched a handful of his shirt at the shoulder, feeling both nervous and excited as she settled into him.
He looked down at her, looking up at him, her head resting in the crook of his arm. Fitz remembered the first time he’d met Kimber Mac, the playful flirting, the promise he made himself to count each and every freckle he could find on her someday. He brushed her nose with his, then her lips with his, smelling her sandalwood shampoo as he brushed the shell of her ear. Leaning back he looked into her eyes, making sure she was ok. She was glowing, her skin flushed, eyes slightly glazed and he shook his head. “Ya really don’t know, do ya?” he whispered.
Kimber’s brow furled a bit. “Know what?”
“How absolutely gorgeous ya are.”
Feeling tears building up behind her eyes she shook her head, stroking his hair. Fitz leaned back in placing petal soft kisses on the corners of her mouth, tracing her lower lip with his tongue, and as her lips parted to gasp he took them in his. She clutched her fingers in his jet black curls, feeling like she needed to hold on to something before she was carried away, needing to feel him, solid with her. Her leg curled around his, trying to find purchase as his lips moved to her chin, along her jaw, down to the hollow of her throat.
No one heard the whistle of the kettle when it went off. Luckily those electric ones have automatic shut offs.
Which was one of the reasons he was crashing at her flat for a while. The Doctor had “Doctor” things to do and Fitz needed a break from “Doctor” things, and Kimber needed some company so it all worked out. After her mini-freak out at the pub Fitz got her home, shucked of bag, coat, and shoes, and tucked up under a fleece in the corner of the sofa. He put on some Sinatra and went to start the tea. Electric kettles still seemed a little wrong somehow but he’d gotten used to it. Once the things were set out and the water was heating he stepped out to check on her. She’d pulled her knees up to support her forehead so all he saw was a lump of long, red curls flowing over the cream fleece. A muffled sound that was probably a sentence wafted from under the lump and he smiled.
“Can’t ‘ear ya duck. Yer gonna need ta come outta there.” He strolled over and sat leaning his side against her legs. “Tea’ll be ready soon, anyway” He moved his arm to curve around her shoulder and softly tangle in her hair.
She raised her head to rest her chin on her knees. “I said I feel like a right 'orse’s arse.” Closing her eyes she started to enjoy the physical sensation of his fingers threading through her hair, brushing the back of her neck. It both tickled and tingled quite nicely. He chuckled and she grimaced. “Fhanks fer yer support, mate.”
Fitz reached over with his other arm and pulled her legs across his lap. “Stop it.” He stroked her fleece-covered calf.
“Honestly,” she groaned leaning her head against his arm, which stopped the nice tingling on her neck she noticed. “I reckon a bloke like you, wifh two girls at a go wouldn’t understand, but I don’t…I’m not used to…ugh” Turning into his arm and letting her hair fall over her face she decided there was no rational way to finish that sentence.
Reaching up Fitz lifted the wall of curls from her face and tucked it over her shoulder. He let his fingers trail softly back along her trazpezius muscle, the thin t-shirt material barely moving as he crossed the neckline and skimmed the bare skin of her neck up to cup her cheek. His thumb barely brushed the freckles, as if not wanting to rub them off. The heat rose under her skin as she blushed and her breathing became just a bit more shallow and quick. Kimber Mac, feeling very out of her depth and unsure looked up, searching for…something…she wasn’t sure what…from Fitz. Deep emerald eyes meet dark chocolate ones full of understanding, caring, that ever present glint of mirth, and…something.
Kimber pulled herself closer til she was almost sitting in his lap, and Fitz brought the hand that was stroking her hair back up to support and kneed her neck under her hair. Hesitantly, she reached up and traced his jawline with her finger, felt the stubble, smelled the aftershave he’d put on before the pub. She moved up to feel his breath warm and soft and a bit faster than normal against her hand. Fitz shifted to move closer and Kimber reached her arms around his neck to steady herself. They both smiled.
She leaned in until their breaths mingled warmly between them, the bourbon he’d drunk still strong and, almost as if she’d been the one to drink it, she began to feel light headed. Her shields were falling, but before she could panic, she realized all she could see, or hear, or feel, was Sinatra, her heart beat increasing, and the lovely wash of white noise that was Fitz. Curiosity took over and she softly slid her tongue along Fitz’s bottom lip to see if she could taste the bourbon and felt his breath catch. He kicked off his boots while moving his hand from her cheek slowly down her side and splayed it across her lower back. Bringing his legs up onto the large sofa, he guided her down alongside him, pulling her close. She clutched a handful of his shirt at the shoulder, feeling both nervous and excited as she settled into him.
He looked down at her, looking up at him, her head resting in the crook of his arm. Fitz remembered the first time he’d met Kimber Mac, the playful flirting, the promise he made himself to count each and every freckle he could find on her someday. He brushed her nose with his, then her lips with his, smelling her sandalwood shampoo as he brushed the shell of her ear. Leaning back he looked into her eyes, making sure she was ok. She was glowing, her skin flushed, eyes slightly glazed and he shook his head. “Ya really don’t know, do ya?” he whispered.
Kimber’s brow furled a bit. “Know what?”
“How absolutely gorgeous ya are.”
Feeling tears building up behind her eyes she shook her head, stroking his hair. Fitz leaned back in placing petal soft kisses on the corners of her mouth, tracing her lower lip with his tongue, and as her lips parted to gasp he took them in his. She clutched her fingers in his jet black curls, feeling like she needed to hold on to something before she was carried away, needing to feel him, solid with her. Her leg curled around his, trying to find purchase as his lips moved to her chin, along her jaw, down to the hollow of her throat.
No one heard the whistle of the kettle when it went off. Luckily those electric ones have automatic shut offs.