(no subject)
Title: I Just Want To Try You On
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Shannon/Ana, implied Shannon/Boone
Word Count: 1,357
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Pre-pilot. This is me trying desperately to fit this into canon time. Takes place sometime after the final flashback in Hearts And Minds.
Summary: She's always wanted to try this. It's the forbidden fruit aspect that gets her curious, keeps her intrigued.
Shannon blames it on boredom. She blames it on the fact that she never went to college and experimented, like they always say. She blames it on soft skin and full pink lips and confusion and liquor. Basically she blames it on anything that makes it not her fault.
She’d had a little too much to drink and lost her discretion. Boone was giving her shit for taking off for a bar when they had a flight to be on tomorrow morning. And an hour after they’d had sex, they think but don’t say. She just tells him that if he’s so worried about it he can go home and she never invited him anyway.
He won’t leave her side. Not even when she comes on to the bartender she has no intentions of doing anything with right in front of him, just to show him she’s moved on. Boone glares but he stays close and she hates him for it.
She hates him because it makes her look for other avenues, ones that make her, if you’re looking at standards and morals, a very bad person. She’s going to find someone she is going to do something with, other than lead on.
Her eyes take in her surroundings, evaluating the people that litter the bar. She can feel his eyes burning into her, into the people she’s looking at and the intensity only makes her more determined. But for one tiny, insignificant problem.
It isn’t some motorcycle driving bad boy or some wealthy but neglected man. Instead her eyes linger on some rough looking Latina chick sitting at a table in the back by herself, looking very much like someone who’s drinking to get drunk. Shannon lets herself take in the woman’s curves, her dark eyes, tan skin, the strip of her skin that peeks out underneath her tight top.
Boone doesn’t get it. He thinks she’s checking out the competition, even when she empties her drink and makes her way over to the woman, hiking up her skirt just so.
She’s always wanted to try this. She’s always wanted to find some random girl and kiss her. It’s the forbidden aspect of it. She wants to know what it feels like to kiss a girl, if they kiss differently than guys, if it feels different to tangle her hands in silky hair or run her fingers down smooth skin. But there’s a lot of things Shannon’s always wanted to do and she’s managed to put them all off because it’s not like she doesn’t have plenty of time to do them in. Until now.
The woman is twice as drunk and half as talkative as Shannon, she soon learns, as she invites herself to take the seat next to her, crossing her long legs and keeping close. Every now and again she’ll chance a glimpse of Boone who’s still watching her except now he’s working his way through the bar, even as they edge ever so closer to last call.
“Your boyfriend?” The woman asks, nodding to him, a little too quietly.
“No.” She weighs the pros and cons of her next words, her next lie. “He doesn’t take no for an answer. Doesn’t realize he’s not my type.”
“Not into the pretty boys?”
She bites down on her lip, hard, reminding herself this is all a game. “You’re half right.”
There’s a time delay, caused by too much liquor, but when it does finally click she can read it in the woman’s eyes before she ever does on her lips. “Well if that’s your thing you picked the wrong bar. There’s a sad lack of potential prospects.”
Which is true enough, taking a good, hard look at the only other female in the bar and confirming that she definitely made the right choice. The longer this conversation goes on the more comfortable Shannon becomes with it, which really does not bode well for anyone involved. With very little effort she’s able to send one hell of a smoldering look the woman’s way as she says, “I’ve got one in mind.”
The woman shakes her head, leans back in her chair a bit. “Sorry, I don’t go in for that.”
Shannon never learned how to deal with rejection and that’s what helps her push now. “I’m not asking for a date.” The woman still doesn’t seem to sway and so Shannon leans a little closer, revealing a little more cleavage that really isn’t going to help her if what the woman says is true. “Look I’m just asking you to help me get him off my back.”
It must do something because the woman lifts her eyes off the table and lets them find Boone who tries to become one with the bar pretty much as soon as he realizes she’s looking at him. She watches him for a moment, her hands playing with a napkin, tearing it to shreds. Then, “Alright, I’m in.”
Of course she doesn’t realize how in she really is until Shannon decides not to give her an opportunity to change her mind and goes in for the metaphorical kill right there and then.
She could probably tell you exactly what the woman was drinking, if she didn’t know already, because she can taste it on her tongue. Gin and tonic and the faint taste of cherry chapstick as she gently catches the woman’s lower lip between her teeth. She lets one hand drop to brace herself against the table even as the other one slides into the woman’s hair and she feels the woman’s tongue slip into her mouth, getting a little aggressive herself.
The last thing on her mind at the moment is Boone, instead she’s far more concerned with how long this can last exactly before it becomes more than just a kiss. The woman’s hand comes to rest just above Shannon’s jaw line, tilting her head just so far to get better access and for someone who ‘didn’t go in for that’ a minute ago she sure seems pretty good at it. Not that Shannon has anything to compare it to, but as far as kisses in general go she’s had much, much worse.
They’re both curious, she thinks, just satisfying an urge, and enjoying it in the meantime because they might as well.
When they finally break apart, slowly at first, all swollen lips and warm sensations, Shannon’s pretty sure her mission is accomplished. Boone isn’t at the bar anymore. He left her. She tells herself it doesn’t hurt at all, that she can push him away.
The woman takes notice of it too. “Looks like your little ploy worked.”
She fakes a smile, mischievous and plastic. “I knew it would.” She did, even if a part of her would rather it had not. “Would you excuse me, I need to find the bathroom.”
The woman nods and Shannon rises, taking a wrong turn when her one-time lover isn’t looking.
“You’re sick,” he tells her, not jokingly, distaste clearly displayed on his face.
“Why? Because I kissed a girl? Because I liked it?” She tries to determine whether the last part is in fact the lie she intended it to be - it isn’t. She did like it. Enough that, if this were any other night, she might be up for more.
“You shouldn’t get other people involved in this.” He chastises, like a parent, and not a very caring one.
“Why stop now?” She’s completely nonchalant as she says it and it only disgusts him more, which is fine because that means he still cares. This is how she wants it, to make him hate her and yet keep coming back for more. They work best that way.
“What you did was wrong,” he tells her, even as he unlocks the rental car. It’s true enough but she knew that when she was kissing her and if she didn’t care then she sure as hell isn’t going to start now.
Besides, it’s just one more thing to check off her ‘things to do before I die’ list, not that she didn’t have plenty of time anyways.