FIC: A Few Kisses Ago (Anwar/Kimberley, PG-13)
Author: Clio
Title: A Few Kisses Ago
Pairing: American Idol RPF: Anwar Robinson/Kimberley Locke
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It's been twenty-five years since Anwar and Kimberley met in London, but it feels like yesterday
Length: 500 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: Title from the Johnny Mercer song "I Remember You." Based on the 40's AU established by A Dream That Could Not Last. Fulfills the "memories" square on my schmoop_bingo card. Beta'd by the always-awesome lillijulianne.
November, 1965
Anwar Robinson liked to think of himself as a modern sort of fellow. He was coming up on 50, but he could easily keep up with the younger engineers working with him on the moon rocket, and he didn’t have so much pride that he couldn’t read a book or go by Cal Tech for a refresher if he needed to. He liked the new music-the Motown more than this Hendrix fellow, sure, but even that wasn’t noise. And it went both ways; why, just the other week his sixteen-year-old son had said, “You know, Pop, this Coltrane fella is pretty groovy.”
He and Kimberley kept up with all the new dances and did a good job not embarrassing their kids at weddings and parties. As Kimberley’s civil rights work brought them into contact with plenty of Hollywood types, he stayed up-to-date on movies and TV. And Los Angeles wasn’t a city that made it easy to be old in any case.
But the moment their plane touched down in London, Anwar was flooded with memories of drills and air raids and girls singers in night clubs and dancing the Lindy, sending Kimberley flying as high as he could. She was holding his hand tight and he turned to smile at her.
“Twenty-five years,” she said. “Can you believe it? Feels like yesterday.”
They were staying in the same hotel as they had on their honeymoon, though not the same suite as they’d shared that large one with the two other couples that had shared their wedding. The kids, and their fellow anniversary-sharers the Richardsons and the Lewises and their kids, would be joining them in a couple of days.
For now they unpacked a bit, showered off that “airplane funk,” had tea and sandwiches sent up to the room, then lay down for a bit of a nap to ease the time change. That evening they were off to Ruben and Mandisa’s club for dinner and dancing courtesy of their old friends. The bookstores of Charing Cross Road and that little pub where they’d had their first date would wait until tomorrow.
He woke up spooned up against Kimberley with his face buried in her hair, as usual, and feeling a little amorous as usual, too. They’d taken the opportunity of no teenagers around to sleep in the nude, and four kids had only enhanced that overripeness of hers that he loved to sink down into. He shifted, planting a kiss on her shoulder, and she hummed.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Five-thirty,” he said. “Plenty of time.”
Kimberley turned onto her back and smiled up at him. “Well, this is a second honeymoon.”
“And this time I don’t even have to say, ‘All right, wife, let’s see those tits.’” He grinned.
She laughed. “Remember, you couldn’t even make yourself say that?”
Anwar shook his head, moving to lay on top of her. “I was such a nerd then,” he said.
“You still are, Mr. Rocket Scientist,” she replied, “and I love it. Now get to work.”
“With pleasure,” he said, kissing her, and it did feel just like that first time. And these ghosts all around them, they were A-OK with him.
Title: A Few Kisses Ago
Pairing: American Idol RPF: Anwar Robinson/Kimberley Locke
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It's been twenty-five years since Anwar and Kimberley met in London, but it feels like yesterday
Length: 500 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: Title from the Johnny Mercer song "I Remember You." Based on the 40's AU established by A Dream That Could Not Last. Fulfills the "memories" square on my schmoop_bingo card. Beta'd by the always-awesome lillijulianne.
November, 1965
Anwar Robinson liked to think of himself as a modern sort of fellow. He was coming up on 50, but he could easily keep up with the younger engineers working with him on the moon rocket, and he didn’t have so much pride that he couldn’t read a book or go by Cal Tech for a refresher if he needed to. He liked the new music-the Motown more than this Hendrix fellow, sure, but even that wasn’t noise. And it went both ways; why, just the other week his sixteen-year-old son had said, “You know, Pop, this Coltrane fella is pretty groovy.”
He and Kimberley kept up with all the new dances and did a good job not embarrassing their kids at weddings and parties. As Kimberley’s civil rights work brought them into contact with plenty of Hollywood types, he stayed up-to-date on movies and TV. And Los Angeles wasn’t a city that made it easy to be old in any case.
But the moment their plane touched down in London, Anwar was flooded with memories of drills and air raids and girls singers in night clubs and dancing the Lindy, sending Kimberley flying as high as he could. She was holding his hand tight and he turned to smile at her.
“Twenty-five years,” she said. “Can you believe it? Feels like yesterday.”
They were staying in the same hotel as they had on their honeymoon, though not the same suite as they’d shared that large one with the two other couples that had shared their wedding. The kids, and their fellow anniversary-sharers the Richardsons and the Lewises and their kids, would be joining them in a couple of days.
For now they unpacked a bit, showered off that “airplane funk,” had tea and sandwiches sent up to the room, then lay down for a bit of a nap to ease the time change. That evening they were off to Ruben and Mandisa’s club for dinner and dancing courtesy of their old friends. The bookstores of Charing Cross Road and that little pub where they’d had their first date would wait until tomorrow.
He woke up spooned up against Kimberley with his face buried in her hair, as usual, and feeling a little amorous as usual, too. They’d taken the opportunity of no teenagers around to sleep in the nude, and four kids had only enhanced that overripeness of hers that he loved to sink down into. He shifted, planting a kiss on her shoulder, and she hummed.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Five-thirty,” he said. “Plenty of time.”
Kimberley turned onto her back and smiled up at him. “Well, this is a second honeymoon.”
“And this time I don’t even have to say, ‘All right, wife, let’s see those tits.’” He grinned.
She laughed. “Remember, you couldn’t even make yourself say that?”
Anwar shook his head, moving to lay on top of her. “I was such a nerd then,” he said.
“You still are, Mr. Rocket Scientist,” she replied, “and I love it. Now get to work.”
“With pleasure,” he said, kissing her, and it did feel just like that first time. And these ghosts all around them, they were A-OK with him.