fic: Cartography for Beginners (Push; Nick/Cassie; g)
Cartography for Beginners
Push (2009); Nick/Cassie; g; 575 words
Nick was lost, but now he's found.
Originally posted on tumblr, now slightly revised. Also @ AO3
~*~
Cartography for Beginners
Nick hasn't seen Cassie in three years when he gets the message: an address in New York, a date and a time. He finishes off the job he's working, packs his bag, and walks away without looking back.
He gets to New York a day early, scopes the place out. It's nicer than he'd expected, all smoky green glass and shiny brass hardware over a highly polished wood bar. It's a meat market, full of money men in sharp suits who are eager to tell women who are sipping pink drinks about how they survived the recession.
They have no idea what survival really means, Nick thinks, sipping on two fingers of Chivas, neat, and scanning the crowd, trying to figure out why Cassie picked this place. Why she's stayed away so long. Why she's called him now. If they're really any safer apart than they were together, and whether he can convince her that they are (that they could be) if she doesn't want to be convinced.
A flash of blonde hair catches his attention, distracting him from his thoughts.
The woman cuts her way through the crowd like a shark, her pale gold hair haloing as she passes underneath bright lights before falling into shadow again. Nick tracks her progress, the loose, confident swing of her hips, the strong set of her shoulders, the flash of a long slim thigh under a short black skirt.
He runs through his best pickup lines as she circles the bar like a predator scenting her prey. He doesn't know who she's looking for but he wants to be the one she finds.
Someone in the crowd jostles against him and he tenses for a moment, ready to lash out with his power, but when he turns to look, there's nothing that pings his radar as off. He turns back and she's standing in front of him, something familiar in the amusement on her face.
"You're early," she says, reaching out and taking his glass from his suddenly nerveless fingers. She takes a sip of scotch and smiles around the rim like she's sharing a secret.
"Had to get the lay of the land," he says, trying to play off his surprise (as if he's ever been able to fool her).
She hums skeptically and steps into the vee of his legs, face tipped up close to his, close enough that he can taste the scotch on her breath. "You were looking for a lay, all right."
"Cassie--" His groan is cut off by her hand moving purposefully up his thigh. He holds himself still, torn between wanting to arch into her touch and wanting to pull away.
She leans even closer, her lips up against his ear. "Looks like you found one." Her mouth is hot against his, and her short nails scratch lightly through his stubble as she kisses him, sending a shiver down his spine. The glide of her tongue against his dismantles every argument he might make against her. Against this.
He's still off-balance, dizzy from the kiss and the taste of scotch on her tongue when she slides her hand into his and tugs. He follows her through the crowd in a daze, the reality of her now slotting together with the girl that he knew, the girl who knows him, better than anyone else ever has, and everything snaps into place. He follows her because he was lost, and he's finally been found.
end
~*~
Feedback is always appreciated.
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/567158.html.
people have commented there.
Push (2009); Nick/Cassie; g; 575 words
Nick was lost, but now he's found.
Originally posted on tumblr, now slightly revised. Also @ AO3
~*~
Cartography for Beginners
Nick hasn't seen Cassie in three years when he gets the message: an address in New York, a date and a time. He finishes off the job he's working, packs his bag, and walks away without looking back.
He gets to New York a day early, scopes the place out. It's nicer than he'd expected, all smoky green glass and shiny brass hardware over a highly polished wood bar. It's a meat market, full of money men in sharp suits who are eager to tell women who are sipping pink drinks about how they survived the recession.
They have no idea what survival really means, Nick thinks, sipping on two fingers of Chivas, neat, and scanning the crowd, trying to figure out why Cassie picked this place. Why she's stayed away so long. Why she's called him now. If they're really any safer apart than they were together, and whether he can convince her that they are (that they could be) if she doesn't want to be convinced.
A flash of blonde hair catches his attention, distracting him from his thoughts.
The woman cuts her way through the crowd like a shark, her pale gold hair haloing as she passes underneath bright lights before falling into shadow again. Nick tracks her progress, the loose, confident swing of her hips, the strong set of her shoulders, the flash of a long slim thigh under a short black skirt.
He runs through his best pickup lines as she circles the bar like a predator scenting her prey. He doesn't know who she's looking for but he wants to be the one she finds.
Someone in the crowd jostles against him and he tenses for a moment, ready to lash out with his power, but when he turns to look, there's nothing that pings his radar as off. He turns back and she's standing in front of him, something familiar in the amusement on her face.
"You're early," she says, reaching out and taking his glass from his suddenly nerveless fingers. She takes a sip of scotch and smiles around the rim like she's sharing a secret.
"Had to get the lay of the land," he says, trying to play off his surprise (as if he's ever been able to fool her).
She hums skeptically and steps into the vee of his legs, face tipped up close to his, close enough that he can taste the scotch on her breath. "You were looking for a lay, all right."
"Cassie--" His groan is cut off by her hand moving purposefully up his thigh. He holds himself still, torn between wanting to arch into her touch and wanting to pull away.
She leans even closer, her lips up against his ear. "Looks like you found one." Her mouth is hot against his, and her short nails scratch lightly through his stubble as she kisses him, sending a shiver down his spine. The glide of her tongue against his dismantles every argument he might make against her. Against this.
He's still off-balance, dizzy from the kiss and the taste of scotch on her tongue when she slides her hand into his and tugs. He follows her through the crowd in a daze, the reality of her now slotting together with the girl that he knew, the girl who knows him, better than anyone else ever has, and everything snaps into place. He follows her because he was lost, and he's finally been found.
end
~*~
Feedback is always appreciated.
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/567158.html.
people have commented there.