Kissing in the Rain - Annie/Gilbert
Fandom Being Human
Pairing Annie Sawyer/Gilbert
Prompt Kissing in the Rain
Word Count 873
Rating PG
Summary Annie still thinks of things as if she's alive.
Notes Unbeta'ed, so all mistakes my own. Also this is set before Annie becomes visible again
They’re halfway back to the house when the skies open and suddenly it’s raining as if it’s the end of the world. Annie tightens her grip on Gilbert’s hand and starts to run, or more accurately tries to run. Only he’s just standing there. Holding on to her. Keeping her from running any further than arm’s length, firmly but gently.
She turns and looks at him like he’s lost his mind. Not for the first time. “Gilbert, it’s pissing it down! Come on!” she says, trying to pull him forward.
He smiles slowly and shrugs, not moving a muscle. “You know what the very best thing about being dead is, Annie?” he asks.
She tilts her head and makes a point of thinking for a second. “I can’t kill you again?” she asks.
“Not quite what I was thinking,” he says with a hint of laughter as he steps closer. “Close though. I was thinking about the fact we can’t get ill. Can’t catch a cold, none of that stuff.”
“And your point is?”
“My point is, why you in such a hurry to get out of the rain, hey?”
“Because…because…because I’m not a mental?” she offers.
“And only the mental enjoy the rain?” he asks, still staying resolutely still.
“I…well no but…come on, Gilbert. I’m bloody freezing out here,” she protests.
“No you’re not,” he replies calmly. “You’re not even really here, not in any real physical sense at least. Look- your hair isn’t even wet. Neither’s mine. We’re not affected by these things anymore, Annie. We don’t have solid bodies, not really, not in the normal world, to normal people.”
She frowns at that and runs her hand through her hair as she realises he’s right. Her clothes aren’t wet either. It’s like the rain’s just passing through them and she’s not sure if that’s the most depressing thing she’s ever realised, or if perhaps it’s the best. “But we can still touch things, move things.”
“If we think about it, yeah,” he agrees. “I’m sure if you want to get wet you probably could. It’s all a question of focus. Or, and this is my preferred plan, you can calm down, ignore the rain and come here.”
She sighs but steps closer to him anyway. “But if I want to feel the rain, I can?” she says just to make sure. Because if she has to spend the rest of her death only being seen, heard and felt by supernaturals and not being able to feel anything else, she might just have to try this ghost suicide thing Gilbert mentioned.
“You can feel anything you want to, Annie,” he confirms softly. “But I was sort of hoping just being able to feel me might be enough for you right this minute.”
She smiles a little at this and squeezes his hand pointedly. “I think that could work,” she agrees.
“Good,” he says, with a smile so wide it gives him dimples.
“So…did you want me here for any particular reason?” she asks innocently.
“I did actually, yeah,” he says, leaning closer and wrapping his free arm around her waist.
She closes her eyes and leans against him, focusing on the feel of his woollen coat against her skin, scratchy and rough, the smell of cigarette smoke seeped into it. His body’s warm and strong despite the fact he’s only thin and she realises things like this are real enough. He’s real enough. When he kisses her, his lips are soft yet firm. Purposeful but tender. His mouth tastes smoky, as his tongue pushes her own open tentatively, but she’s used to that now. It’s just another thing that reminds her of how real they both are, perhaps not to the world at large, but in their own little world they’re both as alive as anyone. They don’t feel cold, or dead and she can feel his heart beating beneath his jumper against her own.
When he pulls back she lets out a little sound of disappointment and blushes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, still confused about this whole thing. About the fact that she likes him back and he’s sure it’s not just because he can see her. Mitchell can see her too and he’s…well he’s Mitchell, all cool and sure of himself, unlike Gilbert, who tries so hard, but doesn’t really know what he’s doing.
“You’re just trying to make me blush now!” she protests.
“Well yeah, maybe. A bit,” he agrees. “But it’s still true.”
She isn’t sure what to say, because she can’t remember the last time anyone said it to her and she’s never been great at taking compliments. “Right well…” she trails off and kisses him quickly on the lips because it’s all she can think of to do. “When we get to the end of the road do you want to think about the fact it’s raining?” she asks.
“Any particular reason?” he replies in confusion.
She beams at him and starts walking back towards the house, with him walking beside her this time. “I just figured us being wet through would give us more of an excuse to go straight upstairs,” she says. “You know what George is like with all his questions.”
Pairing Annie Sawyer/Gilbert
Prompt Kissing in the Rain
Word Count 873
Rating PG
Summary Annie still thinks of things as if she's alive.
Notes Unbeta'ed, so all mistakes my own. Also this is set before Annie becomes visible again
They’re halfway back to the house when the skies open and suddenly it’s raining as if it’s the end of the world. Annie tightens her grip on Gilbert’s hand and starts to run, or more accurately tries to run. Only he’s just standing there. Holding on to her. Keeping her from running any further than arm’s length, firmly but gently.
She turns and looks at him like he’s lost his mind. Not for the first time. “Gilbert, it’s pissing it down! Come on!” she says, trying to pull him forward.
He smiles slowly and shrugs, not moving a muscle. “You know what the very best thing about being dead is, Annie?” he asks.
She tilts her head and makes a point of thinking for a second. “I can’t kill you again?” she asks.
“Not quite what I was thinking,” he says with a hint of laughter as he steps closer. “Close though. I was thinking about the fact we can’t get ill. Can’t catch a cold, none of that stuff.”
“And your point is?”
“My point is, why you in such a hurry to get out of the rain, hey?”
“Because…because…because I’m not a mental?” she offers.
“And only the mental enjoy the rain?” he asks, still staying resolutely still.
“I…well no but…come on, Gilbert. I’m bloody freezing out here,” she protests.
“No you’re not,” he replies calmly. “You’re not even really here, not in any real physical sense at least. Look- your hair isn’t even wet. Neither’s mine. We’re not affected by these things anymore, Annie. We don’t have solid bodies, not really, not in the normal world, to normal people.”
She frowns at that and runs her hand through her hair as she realises he’s right. Her clothes aren’t wet either. It’s like the rain’s just passing through them and she’s not sure if that’s the most depressing thing she’s ever realised, or if perhaps it’s the best. “But we can still touch things, move things.”
“If we think about it, yeah,” he agrees. “I’m sure if you want to get wet you probably could. It’s all a question of focus. Or, and this is my preferred plan, you can calm down, ignore the rain and come here.”
She sighs but steps closer to him anyway. “But if I want to feel the rain, I can?” she says just to make sure. Because if she has to spend the rest of her death only being seen, heard and felt by supernaturals and not being able to feel anything else, she might just have to try this ghost suicide thing Gilbert mentioned.
“You can feel anything you want to, Annie,” he confirms softly. “But I was sort of hoping just being able to feel me might be enough for you right this minute.”
She smiles a little at this and squeezes his hand pointedly. “I think that could work,” she agrees.
“Good,” he says, with a smile so wide it gives him dimples.
“So…did you want me here for any particular reason?” she asks innocently.
“I did actually, yeah,” he says, leaning closer and wrapping his free arm around her waist.
She closes her eyes and leans against him, focusing on the feel of his woollen coat against her skin, scratchy and rough, the smell of cigarette smoke seeped into it. His body’s warm and strong despite the fact he’s only thin and she realises things like this are real enough. He’s real enough. When he kisses her, his lips are soft yet firm. Purposeful but tender. His mouth tastes smoky, as his tongue pushes her own open tentatively, but she’s used to that now. It’s just another thing that reminds her of how real they both are, perhaps not to the world at large, but in their own little world they’re both as alive as anyone. They don’t feel cold, or dead and she can feel his heart beating beneath his jumper against her own.
When he pulls back she lets out a little sound of disappointment and blushes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, still confused about this whole thing. About the fact that she likes him back and he’s sure it’s not just because he can see her. Mitchell can see her too and he’s…well he’s Mitchell, all cool and sure of himself, unlike Gilbert, who tries so hard, but doesn’t really know what he’s doing.
“You’re just trying to make me blush now!” she protests.
“Well yeah, maybe. A bit,” he agrees. “But it’s still true.”
She isn’t sure what to say, because she can’t remember the last time anyone said it to her and she’s never been great at taking compliments. “Right well…” she trails off and kisses him quickly on the lips because it’s all she can think of to do. “When we get to the end of the road do you want to think about the fact it’s raining?” she asks.
“Any particular reason?” he replies in confusion.
She beams at him and starts walking back towards the house, with him walking beside her this time. “I just figured us being wet through would give us more of an excuse to go straight upstairs,” she says. “You know what George is like with all his questions.”