fic: i can almost believe (that i'm almost enough) (rps - cheryl cole/kimberley walsh)
Title: I Can Almost Believe (That I'm Almost Enough)
Author: ripptyd
Rating: PG
Fandom: Girls Aloud, Cheryl Cole/Kimberley Walsh (RPS)
Word Count: 776
Summary: Three syllables. Three syllables and you come running because she sounds so lost.
Note: This is for watchchimgo. :)
Her dark hair is twisted around your finger and you use your thumb to stroke it with an absent mind. She looks so sweet laying there on her back, and her eyes closed. But she’s smiling in the slightest way. And the soft light from the lamp next to you is tossing shadows across her that find a home in the dips of her eyes and her dimples.
And you don’t realize that you’re staring until her phone starts ringing. You jump and the bed jerks under you. And her eyes snap open while she reaches for the mobile. She’s swallowing her laughter because you’re collapsed back into the pillows with your hand over your hammering heart. You get this indignant look on your face and your lips pout. And you really aren’t surprised when her eyes flicker down to your mouth repeatedly. She averts her gaze pointedly and tells you that it’s not fair, playing dirty like that.
You laugh deeply and start to tell her you’ll show her what playing dirty really is, but you don’t get to finish the thought. She’s looking fondly at the small screen in her hands and you understand with a sudden dropping in your stomach. So you clear your throat a bit and shift between the tangled sheets ignoring the way your vest top is riding up your torso. You’re tense and you’re painfully aware of the clicking of the mobile keys. It’s less than a minute, but you feel like it took her ages to tap out some message that would only take a fraction of that to chip away at your heart. Your heart. It’s slowed to a crawl in this moment. It beats once and you blink and she’s pressed another button.
But you inhale deeply and it’s like a record skipping back into place, trying to catch up. She’s laying down again at your side with an apologetic look on her face and her phone is back on the nightstand with your eyes glued to it. Giving you away. She shakes her head and promises. She promises that it won’t bother you tonight again. You stop the words from coming out, because they aren’t like you at all. But you can’t stop the sharp look of disbelief, and you almost feel vindicated at the way she has the decency to look slightly ashamed.
So you stay that way for several long moments. Her with a bruised ego, and you with a cracked heart. It’s with an unsure hand that grips your wrist and lifts your arm. She ducks under it and presses her body against your side. You swallow thickly when she lowers her head to your chest and nuzzles close. And you leave your hand hanging in the air.
She whispers your name against your skin and you wince. Three syllables. Three syllables and you come running because she sounds so lost. So your palm presses flat against her bare back and you feel her deep exhale across your chest. She apologizes in this soft voice. She tells you that she can’t just ignore him. Your fingers find their way to the back of her neck and begin to massage, and you hate the way you sound desperate when you say that she doesn’t need to ignore him, but it wouldn’t kill her to stop looking like a love fool for him either.
And when she doesn’t reply you can’t even take a little victory from it because you know it’s not fair to ask her to stop feeling something. She doesn’t have the luxury of a perpetually bare ring finger like you do.
You look down at her hand. Dark painted nails are tracing invisible patterns on your chest, dipping under the thin collar of your top. And then she’s pressing her head down a bit more, shifting. And then her fingers are tapping you. Just two fingers. They drum out a steady rhythm and you’re about to ask her what she’s doing but she tells you it’s your heartbeat. You don’t know what to say, so you just blink and look forward to where the wall meets the ceiling. She lets her fingers play out a few more measures of the beat before she smooths her hand across your chest.
She lifts her head and looks at you with watery brown eyes, making sure that you are really seeing her. And then she leans in to kiss you. Her lips sliding against yours, lipstick from the day long gone. She barely even breaks the kiss when she whispers.
She wishes her heart could beat for you like yours beats for her.
Author: ripptyd
Rating: PG
Fandom: Girls Aloud, Cheryl Cole/Kimberley Walsh (RPS)
Word Count: 776
Summary: Three syllables. Three syllables and you come running because she sounds so lost.
Note: This is for watchchimgo. :)
Her dark hair is twisted around your finger and you use your thumb to stroke it with an absent mind. She looks so sweet laying there on her back, and her eyes closed. But she’s smiling in the slightest way. And the soft light from the lamp next to you is tossing shadows across her that find a home in the dips of her eyes and her dimples.
And you don’t realize that you’re staring until her phone starts ringing. You jump and the bed jerks under you. And her eyes snap open while she reaches for the mobile. She’s swallowing her laughter because you’re collapsed back into the pillows with your hand over your hammering heart. You get this indignant look on your face and your lips pout. And you really aren’t surprised when her eyes flicker down to your mouth repeatedly. She averts her gaze pointedly and tells you that it’s not fair, playing dirty like that.
You laugh deeply and start to tell her you’ll show her what playing dirty really is, but you don’t get to finish the thought. She’s looking fondly at the small screen in her hands and you understand with a sudden dropping in your stomach. So you clear your throat a bit and shift between the tangled sheets ignoring the way your vest top is riding up your torso. You’re tense and you’re painfully aware of the clicking of the mobile keys. It’s less than a minute, but you feel like it took her ages to tap out some message that would only take a fraction of that to chip away at your heart. Your heart. It’s slowed to a crawl in this moment. It beats once and you blink and she’s pressed another button.
But you inhale deeply and it’s like a record skipping back into place, trying to catch up. She’s laying down again at your side with an apologetic look on her face and her phone is back on the nightstand with your eyes glued to it. Giving you away. She shakes her head and promises. She promises that it won’t bother you tonight again. You stop the words from coming out, because they aren’t like you at all. But you can’t stop the sharp look of disbelief, and you almost feel vindicated at the way she has the decency to look slightly ashamed.
So you stay that way for several long moments. Her with a bruised ego, and you with a cracked heart. It’s with an unsure hand that grips your wrist and lifts your arm. She ducks under it and presses her body against your side. You swallow thickly when she lowers her head to your chest and nuzzles close. And you leave your hand hanging in the air.
She whispers your name against your skin and you wince. Three syllables. Three syllables and you come running because she sounds so lost. So your palm presses flat against her bare back and you feel her deep exhale across your chest. She apologizes in this soft voice. She tells you that she can’t just ignore him. Your fingers find their way to the back of her neck and begin to massage, and you hate the way you sound desperate when you say that she doesn’t need to ignore him, but it wouldn’t kill her to stop looking like a love fool for him either.
And when she doesn’t reply you can’t even take a little victory from it because you know it’s not fair to ask her to stop feeling something. She doesn’t have the luxury of a perpetually bare ring finger like you do.
You look down at her hand. Dark painted nails are tracing invisible patterns on your chest, dipping under the thin collar of your top. And then she’s pressing her head down a bit more, shifting. And then her fingers are tapping you. Just two fingers. They drum out a steady rhythm and you’re about to ask her what she’s doing but she tells you it’s your heartbeat. You don’t know what to say, so you just blink and look forward to where the wall meets the ceiling. She lets her fingers play out a few more measures of the beat before she smooths her hand across your chest.
She lifts her head and looks at you with watery brown eyes, making sure that you are really seeing her. And then she leans in to kiss you. Her lips sliding against yours, lipstick from the day long gone. She barely even breaks the kiss when she whispers.
She wishes her heart could beat for you like yours beats for her.