FIC: Through the Fire (1/?)
Title: Through the Fire
Rating: R? for sex dreams?
Fandom: Popular
Word Count: 862
Summary: It had started with a car...
A/N: I don't think I like this very much. It's getting posted now because I promised I'd post something on this story before the break was out, and if I don't do it now I won't ever do it. Anyways, subject to further change when I actually write what happened before this moment
It had started with a car. Screeching tires, a scream… she didn’t like to think about that. It was too painful for right now. Right now, where she was now, had started with a kiss.
“Hey,” the words, soft and barely audible, spoken through softly, deliciously curving lips, sent chills running down her spine. Her eyes flickered open, heavy with sleep, and at first she froze when she caught sight of the temptress who had awoken her. “Sammy, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said, throaty voice, sitting up in her bed, fixing the covers around herself, because she didn’t usually make a habit of wearing a bra to sleep, though she wasn’t sure how much that would matter now…
“You’re happy to see me, aren’t you?” and that was when she knew it was a dream. Brooke McQueen, almost stepsister, housemate, and current object of her late night dreams, would never have been this blatantly nice to her when she was awake. So, Sam did the only logical thing to be done in that situation. She lunged forwards, pressing her lips to Brooke’s, soft sound escaping her at the softness that had met her, that she had memorized in her sleep and never grasped at in real life.
“Brooke,” Sam murmured, pressing closer, wrapping her arms around the other’s waist, pulling her closer… a hand tangling in blonde hair…
There was a smirk against her lips, and suddenly there was a hand at her breast. Sam nearly yelped, but when she drew away there was a calming smile beaming her way, and she relaxed back into the kiss, letting the dream seep into her bones, and somehow it wasn’t a dream anymore.
“Sam,” Brooke moaned, nimble fingers caressing her, tweaking at a nipple… Sam whimpered, arched up into the touch, moaned, panted, lost herself in the whirl of sensations, and when a hand brushed against her sex she bucked up, suddenly soaked.
She grabbed at Brooke, pulling her hair, slamming her mouth against the others, teeth clacking in their haste, and then a hand slid into her pajama pants, and Sam was on fire.
Blue flames licked at her skin, caressing it, like a lover’s touch, and she moaned again, hand to her stepsister’s breast this time, and the fire consumed them…
She didn’t notice the screaming till Brooke was shaking her, and there weren’t any hands anywhere, and Sam was about to say something rude, because really, this was her dream, and they should be run her way… and then she woke up.
“SAM!” Brooke screamed, her sleeve hiding her mouth and hacking coughs wracking her frame. “Sam we have to leave!”
“What the hell Brooke? Privacy much?” Sam shouted, hoping she didn’t look too flushed. And then she noticed the flames. “OH MY GOD THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE!” she screamed, leaping off her bed. The fire engulfed it seconds later, and Sam looked down at her skin in amazement. It hadn’t burned.
“Sam come on, there’s no time for this; we have to get Mike and Jane!” There were tears in her stepsister’s eyes now, and she was limping, her cane nowhere in sight.
“Okay, okay, just wait a moment!” Sam exclaimed, overwhelmed, hands to her head as she tried to figure some way out of this.
“SAM WE HAVE TO GO!” Brooke shouted, tearing off down the hall.
“NO, BROOKE WAIT!” Sam screamed, her hand shooting out after the other. And Brooke turned just in time to see the spurt of blue flame shoot outwards from the brunette’s hand, flickering once in the air before dying. There was a beat as they both stood there, speechless, but Brooke moved first.
“Sam we have to go!” She grabbed the brunette’s hand, yanking her in the direction of their parents’ bedroom, and Sam staggered after her, still reeling with shock. She had just set fire to the house… the house was on fire… it was her fault. “Snap out of it!” Brooke snapped at her, yanking her sharply to a stop. “You need to get the door open, come on! You can blame your damn self later; right now we need to get everyone out!”
And Sam kicked down the door, and Mike and Jane were nowhere to be found.
“Downstairs!” Brooke yelled, grabbing hold of Sam and dragging her, and once they’d stumbled down the stairs, checked the living room, kitchen, laundry room, and all the rest, and finally realized that Mike and Jane weren’t there anymore, they burst outside, smoke in their lungs.
The firemen were there already, giant hoses extinguishing the tongues lapping at the house… at the Palace… at their home… and as soon as Brooke caught sight of Mike and Jane, both huddled in blankets, with various ice packs and medical personnel around them, she collapsed on the ground, a sobbing heap. Sam cried with her, great, heaving sobs, and when she stood finally, tried to walk over to their parents, to see if they were okay, Brooke grabbed her arm, her own eyes still swimming, and dragged Sam off in the opposite direction. They left home that night, and were pronounced as legally dead thereafter.