Holy shit, I actually wrote something
I saw this prompt over here for Skins US fic, and, well, I was inspired. I haven't actually written anything in forever, so it's a bit rusty, and I've never written femslash before, so I hope I haven't done lesbianism a horrible injustice. I'm posting it here because I think it might be too long for a comment reply Anyways, yeah...
Title: Malleable Lion
Fandom: Skins
Subject/Pairing: Betty/Tea
Rating: Teen
Warnings: ... Betty is handsy?
Summary: Um. Betty is handsy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or it's characters. Just playing with borrowed toys.
Notes: Written for immortality based on their prompt in that ficathon I linked to, above. This is my first time writing for this pairing. Unbeta’d so any mistakes are mine. Betty's characterization is based on what I remember of her thirty second interaction with Tea in Stanley's episode, and will probably be proven horribly, horribly inaccurate after tonight.
Aaaand the prompt was this:
how do you tame a lion? i see her when i sleep,
you know i liked it better when we pretended this was for, --
i do not know what you want, i do not know what you want,
do not know what you feel, do not know if it's --
Betty works with her fingers. She likes the feel of clay between her fingers, slick and malleable to whatever shape she commands.
People are like that too, she thinks, as she hides the imprint of her fingerprints, smoothing them out of every coil. It's most obvious at school - every test, every class, every day they're being built as much as any sculpture; people are art.
And the thing is, she thought she was watching Tony. Betty was sure she was watching Tony (cherub cheeks, soft skin, lazy smile like a lion) build his life like a house of cards, but -
The thing is ... there's art.
Art, the class, with Tea.
Tea draws lionesses of girls with fiery manes of hair. Sometimes Betty sees the curves of Tea's lines in her sleep, and they build a curving sea of hips and lips in her dreams and -
The angle of cards can't compare, she's sure of it.
Betty likes to work with her hands, to dig in deep. She watches Tea, and her fingers ache.
“Have you ever thought of trying to sculpt something?” The question slips out of her one day, in class, and it's probably the first time she's ever said anything that gotten Tea to look at her.
“No,” Tea says, with a certainty Betty's noticed she has, like Tea thinks the world is made of concrete, “Why?”
“You look like you'd be good with your hands, I think.”
And Tea smiles all her teeth, leaning a little closer, her pupils alive in dark eyes that move back and forth over Betty's body like the lazy swish of a cat's tail in a summer heat.
“I get that a lot.”
And it's a fingerprint of a moment, that gets lost in preparation for something more; it's a finger hold, not a building block, because blocks can tumble down, but this is -
This is dancing, with Betty's hands massaging the perfect symmetry of curves that Tea's body is made of (the dip of her neck from side to side, the poke of her hips slipping out of her jeans, the roll of her tongue as it bumps into Betty's teeth) to the time of some song's beat. And Betty so desperately wants that she knows, that she's positive that in the haze of the club's red lights, and Tea's cloud of weed, she knows it's her mane of curls that Tea sees as set ablaze.
And in the bathroom stall, against the abandoned buildings walls, on her house's hardwood floors, Betty fights Tea's fingers to show her what she feels burning so loudly in her heart
“We could make something, you know,” Betty whispers into all of Tea's dips and curves, hiding the words there like a fingerprint in her clay, ready to smooth it over when Tea awakes, sobered. “Together.”
Title: Malleable Lion
Fandom: Skins
Subject/Pairing: Betty/Tea
Rating: Teen
Warnings: ... Betty is handsy?
Summary: Um. Betty is handsy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or it's characters. Just playing with borrowed toys.
Notes: Written for immortality based on their prompt in that ficathon I linked to, above. This is my first time writing for this pairing. Unbeta’d so any mistakes are mine. Betty's characterization is based on what I remember of her thirty second interaction with Tea in Stanley's episode, and will probably be proven horribly, horribly inaccurate after tonight.
Aaaand the prompt was this:
how do you tame a lion? i see her when i sleep,
you know i liked it better when we pretended this was for, --
i do not know what you want, i do not know what you want,
do not know what you feel, do not know if it's --
Betty works with her fingers. She likes the feel of clay between her fingers, slick and malleable to whatever shape she commands.
People are like that too, she thinks, as she hides the imprint of her fingerprints, smoothing them out of every coil. It's most obvious at school - every test, every class, every day they're being built as much as any sculpture; people are art.
And the thing is, she thought she was watching Tony. Betty was sure she was watching Tony (cherub cheeks, soft skin, lazy smile like a lion) build his life like a house of cards, but -
The thing is ... there's art.
Art, the class, with Tea.
Tea draws lionesses of girls with fiery manes of hair. Sometimes Betty sees the curves of Tea's lines in her sleep, and they build a curving sea of hips and lips in her dreams and -
The angle of cards can't compare, she's sure of it.
Betty likes to work with her hands, to dig in deep. She watches Tea, and her fingers ache.
“Have you ever thought of trying to sculpt something?” The question slips out of her one day, in class, and it's probably the first time she's ever said anything that gotten Tea to look at her.
“No,” Tea says, with a certainty Betty's noticed she has, like Tea thinks the world is made of concrete, “Why?”
“You look like you'd be good with your hands, I think.”
And Tea smiles all her teeth, leaning a little closer, her pupils alive in dark eyes that move back and forth over Betty's body like the lazy swish of a cat's tail in a summer heat.
“I get that a lot.”
And it's a fingerprint of a moment, that gets lost in preparation for something more; it's a finger hold, not a building block, because blocks can tumble down, but this is -
This is dancing, with Betty's hands massaging the perfect symmetry of curves that Tea's body is made of (the dip of her neck from side to side, the poke of her hips slipping out of her jeans, the roll of her tongue as it bumps into Betty's teeth) to the time of some song's beat. And Betty so desperately wants that she knows, that she's positive that in the haze of the club's red lights, and Tea's cloud of weed, she knows it's her mane of curls that Tea sees as set ablaze.
And in the bathroom stall, against the abandoned buildings walls, on her house's hardwood floors, Betty fights Tea's fingers to show her what she feels burning so loudly in her heart
“We could make something, you know,” Betty whispers into all of Tea's dips and curves, hiding the words there like a fingerprint in her clay, ready to smooth it over when Tea awakes, sobered. “Together.”