birthday bandwagon gift #3
Title: First Step
Pairing: Kame/Anne
Rating: G
Word Count: 908
A/N: Gift-drabble for muffy_paradise who requested KamexGirl(s). <3
Summary: Kame is just as obvious as he imagined himself to be. Anne is rather obvious too.
It's their last shoot. The crew breaks into applause the minute the camera stops rolling and soon they're all being handed bouquets.
Kame's heart is beating fast in the thin frame of Bem's chest. There's the thrill of accomplishment that comes naturally after completing a big-budget film, but there's another skip that teeters on panic.
Fuku runs at him, hugging his legs and Kame ducks to plant a kiss in his hair, just between his youkai horns.
He can see Anne hovering and when he unwraps from Fuku and stands there, empty save for a handful of flowers, he thinks he might break. This is the moment where Kame will tear and spill everything he's been carefully trying to hide under Bem's makeup. The flush, the all too human attraction.
He thinks there will be a pause, a split-second of hesitation at the very least, but Anne has him wrapped in her arms before he can even open his own. He stumbles but it only takes him a moment to give back as good as he gets.
His heart is pounding, reverberations splintering his face into a smile. He wonders if Anne can hear it, can feel it against her own chest. Kame can feels her's, soft in all the ways that's uncharacteristic of Bera, and it's a terribly heady feeling, so much so that he's relieved when she pulls away with a laugh.
"It tickles," she says and tugs at his wig.
Kame wants to kiss her hard enough to smear her deep red lipstick. If he were a braver man, he would.
Instead, when the crew has packed and they're all ready to go, it costs him all his courage to grab her hand-a loose circle embracing her fingers for only a second because Anne stills instantly at his touch, like there's no need to hold on-and pull out his cell phone. It's taken him this long and the time's almost up.
"Keep in touch?"
Kame has never found Anne so terrifying as he does now, without her whip or bold makeup or her towering heels. She's in comfy flats that allow them to see eye to eye, a long drooping sweater the colour of champagne that softens the edges of her shoulders, and her hair is loose and smells of her usual citrus shampoo. Fuku had once said she smelled delicious and Kame still remembers her blush when he had voiced his agreement.
She's beautiful and his-but not yet. Maybe not ever.
She's terrifying.
She eyes him and then bites at her lower lip and Kame knows he's done for. How could she not know.
Maybe she does know, Kame thinks as he watches her dig in her purse, maybe she knows and wanted to avoid it. She wanted to leave and he stopped her like an obsessive, self-centered creep when they could have just-"How?"
It's like his heart is tucked inside a broken elevator, rising and falling, rising and rising.
There's a number dialed across the display of Anne's cell phone. Kame knows that number.
It's his own.
It's saved under Kazuko.
Anne pockets her phone with an impish smile and eyes that skitter everywhere to avoid his own.
"How?" Kame echoes and there's an incredulous laugh that sinks into his voice. It's obvious, he's too obvious. He doesn't care.
"I got it from Fuku-kun," Anne says with a slant of her shoulders that signals a failed shrug and another skitter of her eyes, to the floor to Kame's shoulder and to the floor again. They're made for each other in the way they can't pull off nonchalant outside the focus of a camera.
"Why didn't you ask me?"
Anne peers at him at last, meeting the challenge of his gaze with one of her own.
"Why did it take you so long?"
It had never occurred to him that Anne, with her frankness and her open, all-engulfing hugs could have been waiting. All this time.
How could I not see.
"I... blame my namesake?" Kame offers a bit dizzily, like he's been ambushed and hit over the head. Anne laughs breathy and beautiful and Kame is moving closer before either of them know it. "Can I?"
The nervousness is still there but it fizzes like excitement, pop pop pop in his veins, a rush in his ears.
Anne's eyes are dark, shadowed by his own, and they're close, so close, but not touching and Kame can still feel her like static. He knows what she feels like in his arms, against his chest, and there's an exhale of "save your breath" and suddenly Kame knows the taste of her lips. There are soft presses at the corners, tugs on the fuller lower lip, and their breaths mingle and it ends with an unexpected swipe that reaches between and flicks his teeth.
Kame stares as she draws away with a curling smirk that's a contrast to the modest blush creeping up her cheeks.
"Someone had to take the initiative," Anne says with a mumble and looks away to his shoulder once again before leaning forward, quick and graceless to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. "Since we're keeping in touch... I'll see you later."
He watches her disappear down the stairs with a skip in her step that makes her long hair sway behind her like Bera's cape, bold and formidable. A force to be reckoned with.
Terrifying.
His.
Pairing: Kame/Anne
Rating: G
Word Count: 908
A/N: Gift-drabble for muffy_paradise who requested KamexGirl(s). <3
Summary: Kame is just as obvious as he imagined himself to be. Anne is rather obvious too.
It's their last shoot. The crew breaks into applause the minute the camera stops rolling and soon they're all being handed bouquets.
Kame's heart is beating fast in the thin frame of Bem's chest. There's the thrill of accomplishment that comes naturally after completing a big-budget film, but there's another skip that teeters on panic.
Fuku runs at him, hugging his legs and Kame ducks to plant a kiss in his hair, just between his youkai horns.
He can see Anne hovering and when he unwraps from Fuku and stands there, empty save for a handful of flowers, he thinks he might break. This is the moment where Kame will tear and spill everything he's been carefully trying to hide under Bem's makeup. The flush, the all too human attraction.
He thinks there will be a pause, a split-second of hesitation at the very least, but Anne has him wrapped in her arms before he can even open his own. He stumbles but it only takes him a moment to give back as good as he gets.
His heart is pounding, reverberations splintering his face into a smile. He wonders if Anne can hear it, can feel it against her own chest. Kame can feels her's, soft in all the ways that's uncharacteristic of Bera, and it's a terribly heady feeling, so much so that he's relieved when she pulls away with a laugh.
"It tickles," she says and tugs at his wig.
Kame wants to kiss her hard enough to smear her deep red lipstick. If he were a braver man, he would.
Instead, when the crew has packed and they're all ready to go, it costs him all his courage to grab her hand-a loose circle embracing her fingers for only a second because Anne stills instantly at his touch, like there's no need to hold on-and pull out his cell phone. It's taken him this long and the time's almost up.
"Keep in touch?"
Kame has never found Anne so terrifying as he does now, without her whip or bold makeup or her towering heels. She's in comfy flats that allow them to see eye to eye, a long drooping sweater the colour of champagne that softens the edges of her shoulders, and her hair is loose and smells of her usual citrus shampoo. Fuku had once said she smelled delicious and Kame still remembers her blush when he had voiced his agreement.
She's beautiful and his-but not yet. Maybe not ever.
She's terrifying.
She eyes him and then bites at her lower lip and Kame knows he's done for. How could she not know.
Maybe she does know, Kame thinks as he watches her dig in her purse, maybe she knows and wanted to avoid it. She wanted to leave and he stopped her like an obsessive, self-centered creep when they could have just-"How?"
It's like his heart is tucked inside a broken elevator, rising and falling, rising and rising.
There's a number dialed across the display of Anne's cell phone. Kame knows that number.
It's his own.
It's saved under Kazuko.
Anne pockets her phone with an impish smile and eyes that skitter everywhere to avoid his own.
"How?" Kame echoes and there's an incredulous laugh that sinks into his voice. It's obvious, he's too obvious. He doesn't care.
"I got it from Fuku-kun," Anne says with a slant of her shoulders that signals a failed shrug and another skitter of her eyes, to the floor to Kame's shoulder and to the floor again. They're made for each other in the way they can't pull off nonchalant outside the focus of a camera.
"Why didn't you ask me?"
Anne peers at him at last, meeting the challenge of his gaze with one of her own.
"Why did it take you so long?"
It had never occurred to him that Anne, with her frankness and her open, all-engulfing hugs could have been waiting. All this time.
How could I not see.
"I... blame my namesake?" Kame offers a bit dizzily, like he's been ambushed and hit over the head. Anne laughs breathy and beautiful and Kame is moving closer before either of them know it. "Can I?"
The nervousness is still there but it fizzes like excitement, pop pop pop in his veins, a rush in his ears.
Anne's eyes are dark, shadowed by his own, and they're close, so close, but not touching and Kame can still feel her like static. He knows what she feels like in his arms, against his chest, and there's an exhale of "save your breath" and suddenly Kame knows the taste of her lips. There are soft presses at the corners, tugs on the fuller lower lip, and their breaths mingle and it ends with an unexpected swipe that reaches between and flicks his teeth.
Kame stares as she draws away with a curling smirk that's a contrast to the modest blush creeping up her cheeks.
"Someone had to take the initiative," Anne says with a mumble and looks away to his shoulder once again before leaning forward, quick and graceless to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. "Since we're keeping in touch... I'll see you later."
He watches her disappear down the stairs with a skip in her step that makes her long hair sway behind her like Bera's cape, bold and formidable. A force to be reckoned with.
Terrifying.
His.