Fine Lines (LL, Charlie/Dominic, One-shot)
Title: Fine Lines
Author:
mirra_mirror
Pairing: Charlotte Leanne Romero/Dominic Murphy Kilpatrick
Fandom: Last Landing
Chapter: One-shot
Rating: R. Rated for foul language and frequent reference to adult situations.
Disclaimer: LL is a roleplay that I created. Charlie is one of my characters. Dominicis
chibi0r0's character and intellectual property. Their appearances are based upon James McAvoy and Michelle Rodriguez, but this is a purely fictional work.
---
The line that that separates ‘flings’ from ‘couples’ is unnervingly fine. There isn’t a time limit or even a label. Passing partners can easily call each other boyfriend and girlfriend. The emotionally tangled can title themselves as only friends-with-benefits. The reason that the distinction is so difficult to make is due to the fact that affection is the dividing line.
Charlie really wished she had figured this out before she slept with Dominic.
Actually, she wished that she had realized it before she decided to continue sleeping with the Scott. The first time had been an emotional blow and alcohol induced accident, and therefore did not count. She had not been looking for any sort of relationship with the insomniac. In fact, if she were sober, she would have avoided one at all cost. The boy made her feel stupid and they both disliked each other with a passion.
Unfortunately for Charlie, though, she had selected the difficult way through life, and promptly jumped him in the school’s new garage, a week after their little one-nighter. Her excuse was that-from what she could recollect-the sex had been good and he looked incredibly hot while bent over an engine with grease wiped on the back of his jeans.
From then on, their relationship turned into a blur of fighting and then ending up in janitor closets, bathrooms or backseats. They somehow managed to avoid beds. Beds meant planning-usually-and that was too close to trying. That wasn’t what it was about. Their little thing was about needs and boredom. He needed something to drain him enough to put him to sleep and she needed an outlet for her aggression. It worked well enough that they kept on for quite a long time. Long enough for others to doubt they were just pulling a one, or two week stand.
The Virus II subject only tried to label their relationship after Oliver actually brought them up in conversation as a ‘friends-with-benefits deal.’ But that wasn’t quite right. They weren’t friends. Actually, people had been shocked when they realized just who was making such a racket in the hall’s supply closet. Everyone thought that they hated each other, which made sense because they argued so often. They didn’t spend time together, beyond the time they spent fighting or contenting themselves with what followed the fighting. Charlie didn’t even know when Dominic’s birthday was! They were the non-couple, the antithesis of affection, and they were going to stay that way or crash and burn.
At least, that’s what the athlete thought.
The issue with having a boy toy that’s a nice guy and smarter than you, is that they can pull things off without being noticed. They pull little mind tricks that are so subtle that they feel like nothing unusual. Unfortunately for Charlie’s little category of ‘non-couple,’ her non-boyfriend was actually a nice guy. He was even more than a nice guy, actually. He was a genius. And under that pale skin and big brain was a freaking romantic. The Spaniard never saw it coming until it was far too late.
They started talking, in such little increments that she never even realized that there was less fighting and more goofing around. He even managed to get an inside joke going under her nose. Sometimes they actually slept together without yelling matches as a prelude. She didn’t even notice that, slowly, they were actually spending time together; generally working away in the garage when he couldn’t get himself to sleep.
All of it went on without the athlete seeing the incremental changes. Until the sex changed. It wasn’t even that he had changed-and he had, favoring softer gestures than before-but that she had changed. Subtly, somehow, he’d managed to get her to care about how he was doing, how rough she was being and what he actually looked like in the act. She was actually acquiescing to some of the things he wanted.
Charlie tried to fix it. She reminded herself to bite and scratch, demand and dominate. It didn’t seem natural anymore.
The realizations spooked her. She tried leaving, tried avoiding him. Dominic-predicting her reaction like a chess player against a novice opponent-was already reeling her back in before the first “fuck you,” was sent flying. And when he got her back, wandering into the garage one night like a confused puppy with his note in her fist, the whole game was changed. She’d shown that she’d realized what was going on, and had come back despite it. He could wait her out and bring her back because he actually knew her and she’d return because she actually liked him.
The Scott hadn’t won yet, though, the athlete decided. Oh no. She would admit that they were not an anti-couple, that there was something there. But they weren’t a couple. Charlie didn’t do couples. She didn’t do romance, and the boy was just going to have to live with that.
Despite her train of thought, though, Charlie found herself pressed against the side of her Shelby, between her car-he’d been giving it a surprise overhaul-and Dominic as he hooked his fingers into her jeans’ belt loops. His grin was pissing her off. His voice, filled with triumph, doubly so. “Hello.”
“Hm.” Her huff was dry and not amused. Charlotte-she hated the name because it was girly and romantic and everything she despised-crossed her arms and leaned back, giving herself some distance. He’d asked her to come in his note and she’d complied. That was all that he was going to get.
“So I got the kitchen to send over some desserts tonight.” At her look, practically screaming So what? at his face, Dominic rolled his eyes. “Enough for two.”
“Who you shackin’ up with?”
Groaning, Dominic tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling, apparently begging for patience. His voice was exasperated, “Charlie.”
Frowning severely, the Spaniard tightened her arms against her chest. “It sounds goopy.”
“I promise, it won’t kill you.” He somehow managed to sound amused and mildly annoyed at the same time.
With a look, Charlie rolled her eyes. She could tell that this was something he’d never drop if she didn’t show up. “Can’t we just skip dessert and go straight for angry sex?” She was only half-joking.
Dominic contented himself leaning forward, kissing her bare shoulder-she’s come over in a rather clingy tank top-and gave a smile that she could feel against her skin. His voice was low, and Charlie was lucky that she’d gotten good at understanding the Scottish accent at its most difficult. “But I’m not angry with you.”
“I could make you angry with me,” the athlete declared, pushing him away by the shoulders with a smirk.
Dominic frowned at her, seeing that she was going to be difficult. His voice was annoyed at her obviously challenging look. “Just eat the damn cake.”
With a snort, the Spanirad rolled her eyes. It was all too easy. “Told you so.” He didn’t respond, though, refusing to start their little game of push-the-buttons. She really didn’t want to give him an answer, but seeing as he was just standing there and watching her expectantly, Sharlie gave in. “If you quote poetry, I’m sending your head through a wall.”
He snorted, placing a hand on his chest, “Oh, be still, my beating heart… Ow!” The girl in front of him landed a vicious kick to his shin, glaring.
“Dumbass.” Pushing her not-non-boyfriend out of the way, Charlie stalked off, barley listening as he yelled after her that he’d come and get her when the food arrived. She needed to chill out in her room and try to figure this out. The athlete wasn’t so sure about what the hell she was doing.
Sure, she knew that there was something there, but that could just be her libido. They were… friends. She knew that much. But was that it? A switch to friends-with-benefits? So, what, they’d actually have sex in a bed now? Charlie had no idea exactly what was going on anymore. She didn’t even make up her mind about if she was actually going to be joining him until she was actually answering her door and letting the Scotsman drag her out.
Fuck it, subject four decided. One night isn’t going to change anything.
Author:
mirra_mirror
Pairing: Charlotte Leanne Romero/Dominic Murphy Kilpatrick
Fandom: Last Landing
Chapter: One-shot
Rating: R. Rated for foul language and frequent reference to adult situations.
Disclaimer: LL is a roleplay that I created. Charlie is one of my characters. Dominicis
chibi0r0's character and intellectual property. Their appearances are based upon James McAvoy and Michelle Rodriguez, but this is a purely fictional work.
---
The line that that separates ‘flings’ from ‘couples’ is unnervingly fine. There isn’t a time limit or even a label. Passing partners can easily call each other boyfriend and girlfriend. The emotionally tangled can title themselves as only friends-with-benefits. The reason that the distinction is so difficult to make is due to the fact that affection is the dividing line.
Charlie really wished she had figured this out before she slept with Dominic.
Actually, she wished that she had realized it before she decided to continue sleeping with the Scott. The first time had been an emotional blow and alcohol induced accident, and therefore did not count. She had not been looking for any sort of relationship with the insomniac. In fact, if she were sober, she would have avoided one at all cost. The boy made her feel stupid and they both disliked each other with a passion.
Unfortunately for Charlie, though, she had selected the difficult way through life, and promptly jumped him in the school’s new garage, a week after their little one-nighter. Her excuse was that-from what she could recollect-the sex had been good and he looked incredibly hot while bent over an engine with grease wiped on the back of his jeans.
From then on, their relationship turned into a blur of fighting and then ending up in janitor closets, bathrooms or backseats. They somehow managed to avoid beds. Beds meant planning-usually-and that was too close to trying. That wasn’t what it was about. Their little thing was about needs and boredom. He needed something to drain him enough to put him to sleep and she needed an outlet for her aggression. It worked well enough that they kept on for quite a long time. Long enough for others to doubt they were just pulling a one, or two week stand.
The Virus II subject only tried to label their relationship after Oliver actually brought them up in conversation as a ‘friends-with-benefits deal.’ But that wasn’t quite right. They weren’t friends. Actually, people had been shocked when they realized just who was making such a racket in the hall’s supply closet. Everyone thought that they hated each other, which made sense because they argued so often. They didn’t spend time together, beyond the time they spent fighting or contenting themselves with what followed the fighting. Charlie didn’t even know when Dominic’s birthday was! They were the non-couple, the antithesis of affection, and they were going to stay that way or crash and burn.
At least, that’s what the athlete thought.
The issue with having a boy toy that’s a nice guy and smarter than you, is that they can pull things off without being noticed. They pull little mind tricks that are so subtle that they feel like nothing unusual. Unfortunately for Charlie’s little category of ‘non-couple,’ her non-boyfriend was actually a nice guy. He was even more than a nice guy, actually. He was a genius. And under that pale skin and big brain was a freaking romantic. The Spaniard never saw it coming until it was far too late.
They started talking, in such little increments that she never even realized that there was less fighting and more goofing around. He even managed to get an inside joke going under her nose. Sometimes they actually slept together without yelling matches as a prelude. She didn’t even notice that, slowly, they were actually spending time together; generally working away in the garage when he couldn’t get himself to sleep.
All of it went on without the athlete seeing the incremental changes. Until the sex changed. It wasn’t even that he had changed-and he had, favoring softer gestures than before-but that she had changed. Subtly, somehow, he’d managed to get her to care about how he was doing, how rough she was being and what he actually looked like in the act. She was actually acquiescing to some of the things he wanted.
Charlie tried to fix it. She reminded herself to bite and scratch, demand and dominate. It didn’t seem natural anymore.
The realizations spooked her. She tried leaving, tried avoiding him. Dominic-predicting her reaction like a chess player against a novice opponent-was already reeling her back in before the first “fuck you,” was sent flying. And when he got her back, wandering into the garage one night like a confused puppy with his note in her fist, the whole game was changed. She’d shown that she’d realized what was going on, and had come back despite it. He could wait her out and bring her back because he actually knew her and she’d return because she actually liked him.
The Scott hadn’t won yet, though, the athlete decided. Oh no. She would admit that they were not an anti-couple, that there was something there. But they weren’t a couple. Charlie didn’t do couples. She didn’t do romance, and the boy was just going to have to live with that.
Despite her train of thought, though, Charlie found herself pressed against the side of her Shelby, between her car-he’d been giving it a surprise overhaul-and Dominic as he hooked his fingers into her jeans’ belt loops. His grin was pissing her off. His voice, filled with triumph, doubly so. “Hello.”
“Hm.” Her huff was dry and not amused. Charlotte-she hated the name because it was girly and romantic and everything she despised-crossed her arms and leaned back, giving herself some distance. He’d asked her to come in his note and she’d complied. That was all that he was going to get.
“So I got the kitchen to send over some desserts tonight.” At her look, practically screaming So what? at his face, Dominic rolled his eyes. “Enough for two.”
“Who you shackin’ up with?”
Groaning, Dominic tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling, apparently begging for patience. His voice was exasperated, “Charlie.”
Frowning severely, the Spaniard tightened her arms against her chest. “It sounds goopy.”
“I promise, it won’t kill you.” He somehow managed to sound amused and mildly annoyed at the same time.
With a look, Charlie rolled her eyes. She could tell that this was something he’d never drop if she didn’t show up. “Can’t we just skip dessert and go straight for angry sex?” She was only half-joking.
Dominic contented himself leaning forward, kissing her bare shoulder-she’s come over in a rather clingy tank top-and gave a smile that she could feel against her skin. His voice was low, and Charlie was lucky that she’d gotten good at understanding the Scottish accent at its most difficult. “But I’m not angry with you.”
“I could make you angry with me,” the athlete declared, pushing him away by the shoulders with a smirk.
Dominic frowned at her, seeing that she was going to be difficult. His voice was annoyed at her obviously challenging look. “Just eat the damn cake.”
With a snort, the Spanirad rolled her eyes. It was all too easy. “Told you so.” He didn’t respond, though, refusing to start their little game of push-the-buttons. She really didn’t want to give him an answer, but seeing as he was just standing there and watching her expectantly, Sharlie gave in. “If you quote poetry, I’m sending your head through a wall.”
He snorted, placing a hand on his chest, “Oh, be still, my beating heart… Ow!” The girl in front of him landed a vicious kick to his shin, glaring.
“Dumbass.” Pushing her not-non-boyfriend out of the way, Charlie stalked off, barley listening as he yelled after her that he’d come and get her when the food arrived. She needed to chill out in her room and try to figure this out. The athlete wasn’t so sure about what the hell she was doing.
Sure, she knew that there was something there, but that could just be her libido. They were… friends. She knew that much. But was that it? A switch to friends-with-benefits? So, what, they’d actually have sex in a bed now? Charlie had no idea exactly what was going on anymore. She didn’t even make up her mind about if she was actually going to be joining him until she was actually answering her door and letting the Scotsman drag her out.
Fuck it, subject four decided. One night isn’t going to change anything.