e.staal/skinner, "the slightest sign"
Title: The Slightest Sign
Fandom: 'canes RPS
Pairing: Eric Staal/Jeff Skinner
Rating: PG
Words: 911
Summary: How it happens.
Note: An experiment with a narrative that I found interesting and decided to try, borrowed from standing_fic. Second person. Let me know what you think!
Grow up over the summer. Gain muscle, lose fat, cut your hair - a normal summer for you, but feel different, feel anticipation this time around - think long and hard about what you want and how you're going to make it happen.
Plan. Think about it more. Be sure. Don't screw this up. Remind yourself you've got once chance, and one chance only. Be very, very sure.
Work up all your courage. Be tempted to toss back a shot of something before you catch a cab. Stop. Realize it won't help. Take deep breaths to soothe the butterflies in your stomach.
Think about the time's he's smiled at you, and think about all of them. Keep breathing, stay calm. Think about him. Think about all the things you love about him, even the things you don't love about him. Know you love even the things you don't.
Laugh at how silly you sound, drag your hand through your hair, roll your eyes, and walk out the door. Tell yourself you can do this, you will do this. Tell yourself it will be okay.
Get to his house. Swallow past the lump in your throat. Knock on the door, step back. Shove your hands in your pockets, then take them out. Think, no, I'm not a kid anymore.
When he opens the door, don't flinch. Don't step back, don't mumble. Quirk a grin at him, say "Hey." Try to sound breezy and casual. Fail miserably. Blush when he looks at you, shove your hands back into your pockets.
Whatever you do, don't run away.
Smile, relieved, as surprise covers his face, then pleasure. Smile wider when he invites you in. Shiver as his hand touches the center of your back as you shuffle through the door.
Shake your head when he asks if you want anything to drink. Change your mind, but ask only for water. Run your fingers over the glass, trace patterns in the condensation. Allow yourself to be distracted; you're only human.
Feel his eyes on you, curious. Decline when he asks you if you want to sit, knowing sitting won't help you be more comfortable.
Take a deep breath. Step closer, watch his reaction.
See his eyes darken. Watch him look away, tense, but not move back. Be encouraged. Say, "Eric," and watch him draw in a breath that's every bit as anxious as yours are.
Don't freak out when he doesn't say anything. Stay still, don't push him into making an escape.
Bite your lip nervously. Flush when he looks at your mouth. Don't freak out. Keep not freaking out.
Say again, "Eric," but phrase it as a question. Give him the opportunity to say something or do something. Hope he does. Hope and wish for it more than anything you've ever wished for in your entire life.
Panic, for a split second. Wonder if maybe you've got everything horribly wrong. Think, I've fucked up, and shake, for another second. Step back, bite your lip again, hard enough that you almost draw blood.
Worry. Beg him silently, please, not to react horribly.
Freeze, hunch your shoulders in. Don't back away. Listen when he says, "Jeff," sounding torn, helpless, frustrated, wanting.
Stop yourself from leaving. Hear him out. Look at him. Be honest.
Don't push him. Let him speak. Say nothing until he finishes. Resist the urge to touch him.
Wait until he's finished. Be confident, be sure. Then step closer, see his cheeks heat. Say, "the only person it bothers is you," with a hint of something in your voice. Reach out, touch your fingertips to his chest, feel his skin beneath his shirt.
Tell him, "I want to, I want to."
Don't move away. Spread your fingers, don't abandon this now. Breathe in, breathe out.
Repeat, in, out.
Tell him, "I want you," in the steadiest tone you can muster. Take the quick breath he sucks in as a good sign.
Lean in.
Fit against him, erase those inches of height difference, and kiss him like you've wanted to since you met him.
Be patient. Wait for him to respond, let him take his time. Be thrilled when he doesn't, when he sweeps his tongue into your mouth in a possessive move that makes your toes curl.
Encourage him shamelessly, because you're not a saint.
Walk him backwards until you hit a wall. Find the perfect spot for your hips against his, rub your hands over his waist, tilt your head up so his neck doesn't get sore. Kiss him until your lips are numb. Kiss him until you're dizzy and your head spins and he's groaning against your mouth and you're gasping when he stops kissing you. Let him see how aroused you are as his hands slide down, down, closer to the waist of your jeans. Don't be afraid.
When he asks, "are you sure," don't say yes. Surge up, kiss him like your life depends on it. Leave him without any doubt whatsoever.
Give him an amused little grin when he breaks away, says, "Fuck," under his breath. Shrug, tell him you'd be on board with that, just to make him smile.
Reassure him he can take you to his bedroom if he so pleases, in a ridiculously innocent tone of voice, and laugh when his eyes widen.
Take the opportunity to check out his ass as he drags you there, grinning to yourself, and then?
Have the time of your life.
Fandom: 'canes RPS
Pairing: Eric Staal/Jeff Skinner
Rating: PG
Words: 911
Summary: How it happens.
Note: An experiment with a narrative that I found interesting and decided to try, borrowed from standing_fic. Second person. Let me know what you think!
Grow up over the summer. Gain muscle, lose fat, cut your hair - a normal summer for you, but feel different, feel anticipation this time around - think long and hard about what you want and how you're going to make it happen.
Plan. Think about it more. Be sure. Don't screw this up. Remind yourself you've got once chance, and one chance only. Be very, very sure.
Work up all your courage. Be tempted to toss back a shot of something before you catch a cab. Stop. Realize it won't help. Take deep breaths to soothe the butterflies in your stomach.
Think about the time's he's smiled at you, and think about all of them. Keep breathing, stay calm. Think about him. Think about all the things you love about him, even the things you don't love about him. Know you love even the things you don't.
Laugh at how silly you sound, drag your hand through your hair, roll your eyes, and walk out the door. Tell yourself you can do this, you will do this. Tell yourself it will be okay.
Get to his house. Swallow past the lump in your throat. Knock on the door, step back. Shove your hands in your pockets, then take them out. Think, no, I'm not a kid anymore.
When he opens the door, don't flinch. Don't step back, don't mumble. Quirk a grin at him, say "Hey." Try to sound breezy and casual. Fail miserably. Blush when he looks at you, shove your hands back into your pockets.
Whatever you do, don't run away.
Smile, relieved, as surprise covers his face, then pleasure. Smile wider when he invites you in. Shiver as his hand touches the center of your back as you shuffle through the door.
Shake your head when he asks if you want anything to drink. Change your mind, but ask only for water. Run your fingers over the glass, trace patterns in the condensation. Allow yourself to be distracted; you're only human.
Feel his eyes on you, curious. Decline when he asks you if you want to sit, knowing sitting won't help you be more comfortable.
Take a deep breath. Step closer, watch his reaction.
See his eyes darken. Watch him look away, tense, but not move back. Be encouraged. Say, "Eric," and watch him draw in a breath that's every bit as anxious as yours are.
Don't freak out when he doesn't say anything. Stay still, don't push him into making an escape.
Bite your lip nervously. Flush when he looks at your mouth. Don't freak out. Keep not freaking out.
Say again, "Eric," but phrase it as a question. Give him the opportunity to say something or do something. Hope he does. Hope and wish for it more than anything you've ever wished for in your entire life.
Panic, for a split second. Wonder if maybe you've got everything horribly wrong. Think, I've fucked up, and shake, for another second. Step back, bite your lip again, hard enough that you almost draw blood.
Worry. Beg him silently, please, not to react horribly.
Freeze, hunch your shoulders in. Don't back away. Listen when he says, "Jeff," sounding torn, helpless, frustrated, wanting.
Stop yourself from leaving. Hear him out. Look at him. Be honest.
Don't push him. Let him speak. Say nothing until he finishes. Resist the urge to touch him.
Wait until he's finished. Be confident, be sure. Then step closer, see his cheeks heat. Say, "the only person it bothers is you," with a hint of something in your voice. Reach out, touch your fingertips to his chest, feel his skin beneath his shirt.
Tell him, "I want to, I want to."
Don't move away. Spread your fingers, don't abandon this now. Breathe in, breathe out.
Repeat, in, out.
Tell him, "I want you," in the steadiest tone you can muster. Take the quick breath he sucks in as a good sign.
Lean in.
Fit against him, erase those inches of height difference, and kiss him like you've wanted to since you met him.
Be patient. Wait for him to respond, let him take his time. Be thrilled when he doesn't, when he sweeps his tongue into your mouth in a possessive move that makes your toes curl.
Encourage him shamelessly, because you're not a saint.
Walk him backwards until you hit a wall. Find the perfect spot for your hips against his, rub your hands over his waist, tilt your head up so his neck doesn't get sore. Kiss him until your lips are numb. Kiss him until you're dizzy and your head spins and he's groaning against your mouth and you're gasping when he stops kissing you. Let him see how aroused you are as his hands slide down, down, closer to the waist of your jeans. Don't be afraid.
When he asks, "are you sure," don't say yes. Surge up, kiss him like your life depends on it. Leave him without any doubt whatsoever.
Give him an amused little grin when he breaks away, says, "Fuck," under his breath. Shrug, tell him you'd be on board with that, just to make him smile.
Reassure him he can take you to his bedroom if he so pleases, in a ridiculously innocent tone of voice, and laugh when his eyes widen.
Take the opportunity to check out his ass as he drags you there, grinning to yourself, and then?
Have the time of your life.