"Beneath the Pier", Hannah Montana - Miley/Lily
Title: Beneath the Pier
Fandom: Hannah Montana
Pairing: Miley/Lily, Liley
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~1700
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, not intended for profit or offense. I own no rights to the subjects.
A quickie I did a few nights ago in hazy blur. Any spelling/grammar mistakes are mine, I must admit.
Lily swipes her toes through the sand as she walks, flinging clumps into small arcs before her with every step, and her eyes scan the rushing and receding lines of tide, foamed lightly at the edge and smelling sweetly of salt and the waterlogged wood of the pier.
The early glow of pre-dawn lights a nearly-barren stretch of beach before her, the waves in the distance too small and choppy to attract the attention of many surfers. A man stands fishing about a half mile ahead, and the streets are quiet on her right, so that the only sounds she hears are the coos of waking seagulls and the swoosh of gently breaking waves. And she revels in the feeling of being alone.
This is the second day of Miley and Lily's winter vacation from Stanford, and Lily knew immediately what she wanted to do first today. Waking quietly next to Miley in her bedroom, Lily had crept out before first light and made her way down to the beach, enjoying a ritual she occasional performed when back home.
This trek she follows holds memories along it, and Lily likes to come here sometimes, when there's no one around, and just walk through her memories like a film strip. To right is a small pile of ocean debris, and on the top glinting slightly in the peeks of sun rays rising to the east is a shell, conical and cracked at the ends. It reminds her of the afternoon Miley, Oliver and her spent chasing each other, her and Miley teasing Oliver about a crush he had on the new 7th grade transfer girl. It's all fun and games until somebody gets knocked in the head by a misfired seashell and starts threatening bodily harm in Southern similes about raccoons and turnpikes - Oliver's puberty stricken voice inflects mightily high as he pleads and begs for forgiveness for hurling that shell - "I didn't even mean to throw it, it slipped from my hands!" - and Lily has to hold her sides because they are about to burst from laughing.
Other memories are less rambunctious, her and Miley sun tanning on towels, building sandcastles with Oliver, eating chunks of watermelon too big for their mouths under the high noon sun. It's a nostalgia that calls her back to the beach, but a yearning that moves her toward the pier, walking slowly underneath it and swerving between beams.
Lily touches the damp wood lightly with her fingertips, running over grooves and dents and staples. She remembers with a slight ache in her chest when one night after an eventful parade through a few of the college kid's summer house parties and a nearly-uncontrollable-disaster caused by the two in the first place, Miley and Lily had trampled and traipsed their way down here, having kicked of their shoes and left them in the sand somewhere ages behind them, singing beautifully off-key, arm-in-arm, and dancing to the music in their inebriated heads. They pushed and dragged each other in circles around the pillars of wood and stared up through the floorboards at the twinkling stars in the sky, somewhat dimmed by the orange glow of city lights of Malibu beneath them.
"Youuu're my best friend Lily Truscoooooooot!" Miley slurs enthusiastically, and quite loudly, to the echo-y canvas of sea-salted wood and cold ocean water.
"We're more than that! We're - We're! Eh -"
"We're awesome!!" Miley supplies, and misses Lily's hand when she throws up a high five.
They giggle and collapse against a pillar, their bare shoulders bumping and tops flowing in a light breeze.
"It's too - hiccup - bad Ollie couldn't come tonight," Lily says, feeling the cold breeze on her right side and wishing her boyfriend was there to block it, a warm comfort to match the one on her left, provided by Miley.
"He's got his own shim - shindigs to go to - he wants to try and get his mixtape out to the producers, ya know?" Miley waves with her hands, overemphasizing and mostly just flapping in front of her.
"Why couldn't - uhh - you just do it? Don't you know these producers guys already?" Lily asks, looking down at the sand on her feet and wiggling her toes in deeper.
"Hey now! Who'ses the one got 'im an invite to the producer's party in the firss' place? There's a -like - a proper way to go 'bout these things - ish the industry, blah blah blaaaah," Miley shakes her head excessively, her brown hair flying out and brushing against Lily's cheek several times.
"Huuuuuh," is Lily's response, her attention already gone from the conversation and back to her sparkly skirt.
Miley continues on, however. "Besides, I wanted a girl's night out. Oliver's a sweetie, but he's not the girl ya want on your arm when ya crash a college dude's house party, ya know? You're my wingman, lady! Erh, Lily. Winglady - hic - Lily. Yup." And then Miley breathes in deep and holds her breath, her cheeks blown up like a squirrel's, presumably trying to cure herself of her hiccups.
In her head, Lily agrees that Oliver in a dress and sparkly eye shadow and heels could not compare to Miley in those things, and couldn't replace the fun she had tonight with Miley. It's just different when it's just Miley and Lily. It's good. Lily hears Miley release the air she trapped in her lungs and feels her hand fall to her side, the back of it brushing Lily's own. It prompts Lily to say something.
"No, no really though...You're way more than like, just my best friend, ya know?" She says softly. She no longer notices the cold on her right side because there's a heat coming from the place where Miley's hand is touching her skin that spreads warmth throughout her. Miley is quiet for a second, then grabs hold and entwines her fingers with Lily's.
"I know... I don't know how I could live without being with you..." and Miley's slur has disappeared and every word she says is now as clear to Lily as crystal.
"Yeah..?" Lily asks, not sure why she felt a blush rise to her cheeks.
"Yeah, like... It feels strange how much my heart hurts when I think about you not being here... I don't want you to move if your parent's divor - I mean... I'm sorry," and Miley turns her head away but grips tighter to Lily. The divorce isn't final yet, but the separation is, and it hasn't been decided with whom Lily will stay.
"It's not strange - that's what it feels like to love somebody," Lily says quietly, sure that she has felt the same ache in her heart at the thought of leaving Miley. Miley turns back to her.
"You think so?"
"Yeah... if you didn't love somebody, it wouldn't hurt so much to be apart from them. I know because I've felt that whenever we've fought and stopped talking to each other, and when you're away on tour, and when I... think about moving... And I know that I love you."
"I love you..." Miley speaks softly, as though trying the way the words feel on her tongue. "I love you," she repeats, and Lily nods next to her, her head tipping to lay on Miley's shoulder.
Lily's busy trying to pick out stars from between wood slats above her to notice as Miley moves a sheet of hair from her face and behind her shoulder, her face a mix of concentration and realization. She turns slowly and leans away from the pillar, Lily's shoulder dropping as she leaves, but her attention still curiously occupied by the bottom of the pier. Lily only looks down when she feels Miley's eyes on her, studying her face in the dark.
"Miles...?"
"Yup... I love you, Lily." Miley says with a straight face.
"Me too!" But before Lily can try for another high-five, Miley crashes into her, pushing her back against the pillar again, and she feels Miley's hips pin her there, and feels Miley's hands on her shoulders pressing hard, and oh God does she feel Miley's lips against hers, pressed hard and unmoving, almost as if scared, but then Miley loosens up and her lips slide across Lily's in a delightful friction and the kiss becomes less desperate and more comfortable and fun, like things always are with Miley.
"Yea... I'm sure," Miley says as she pulls out of the kiss, but her body still pinning Lily to the wood.
"S-sure of what?" Lily doesn't know if those are stars in her eyes, or the actual stars from the sky floating down around her.
"Sure that I'm in love with you."
Another kiss. And another. And it was a magical and profound moment and Lily's heart felt so big and she never knew making out could be so awesome because hey, let's be honest, Oliver is a clumsy guy in normal situations, he's no hands better in intimate ones.
But the next morning when Miley awoke in Lily's arms sprawled on the sofa because they hadn't made it up the stairs, she didn't say anything other than good morning and did not kiss Lily good morning either, which is something Lily was expecting her to do since they kinda like, confessed their undying love for each other last night and everything and then kinda made out for like hours and days and years.
But it was just as Lily feared - Miley was acting as though nothing had happened, and while she remained close and happy and giggly and just effortlessly Miley, Lily knew that this ache she had in her heart was something not so unfamiliar.
Lily never got the chance to say that she loved Miley. That she was in love with her, in a way she wasn't with Oliver. Eventually Lily convinced herself to get over it. It was just a night of teenage frivolity, you know how these things go. Ya have a couple drinks and suddenly you're confessing undying love and affection for each other, it happens.
But Lily wishes it didn't. She wishes she didn't have this deep secret within her, growling in the dark. It may have not meant anything to Miley, but it meant something to Lily. But what can she do about it?
The echoes of her memories wash away with the receding tide, as the sun rises over Malibu hills and high-end town houses, and Lily leaves her footprints in the sand behind her.
~fin?
Fandom: Hannah Montana
Pairing: Miley/Lily, Liley
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~1700
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, not intended for profit or offense. I own no rights to the subjects.
A quickie I did a few nights ago in hazy blur. Any spelling/grammar mistakes are mine, I must admit.
Lily swipes her toes through the sand as she walks, flinging clumps into small arcs before her with every step, and her eyes scan the rushing and receding lines of tide, foamed lightly at the edge and smelling sweetly of salt and the waterlogged wood of the pier.
The early glow of pre-dawn lights a nearly-barren stretch of beach before her, the waves in the distance too small and choppy to attract the attention of many surfers. A man stands fishing about a half mile ahead, and the streets are quiet on her right, so that the only sounds she hears are the coos of waking seagulls and the swoosh of gently breaking waves. And she revels in the feeling of being alone.
This is the second day of Miley and Lily's winter vacation from Stanford, and Lily knew immediately what she wanted to do first today. Waking quietly next to Miley in her bedroom, Lily had crept out before first light and made her way down to the beach, enjoying a ritual she occasional performed when back home.
This trek she follows holds memories along it, and Lily likes to come here sometimes, when there's no one around, and just walk through her memories like a film strip. To right is a small pile of ocean debris, and on the top glinting slightly in the peeks of sun rays rising to the east is a shell, conical and cracked at the ends. It reminds her of the afternoon Miley, Oliver and her spent chasing each other, her and Miley teasing Oliver about a crush he had on the new 7th grade transfer girl. It's all fun and games until somebody gets knocked in the head by a misfired seashell and starts threatening bodily harm in Southern similes about raccoons and turnpikes - Oliver's puberty stricken voice inflects mightily high as he pleads and begs for forgiveness for hurling that shell - "I didn't even mean to throw it, it slipped from my hands!" - and Lily has to hold her sides because they are about to burst from laughing.
Other memories are less rambunctious, her and Miley sun tanning on towels, building sandcastles with Oliver, eating chunks of watermelon too big for their mouths under the high noon sun. It's a nostalgia that calls her back to the beach, but a yearning that moves her toward the pier, walking slowly underneath it and swerving between beams.
Lily touches the damp wood lightly with her fingertips, running over grooves and dents and staples. She remembers with a slight ache in her chest when one night after an eventful parade through a few of the college kid's summer house parties and a nearly-uncontrollable-disaster caused by the two in the first place, Miley and Lily had trampled and traipsed their way down here, having kicked of their shoes and left them in the sand somewhere ages behind them, singing beautifully off-key, arm-in-arm, and dancing to the music in their inebriated heads. They pushed and dragged each other in circles around the pillars of wood and stared up through the floorboards at the twinkling stars in the sky, somewhat dimmed by the orange glow of city lights of Malibu beneath them.
"Youuu're my best friend Lily Truscoooooooot!" Miley slurs enthusiastically, and quite loudly, to the echo-y canvas of sea-salted wood and cold ocean water.
"We're more than that! We're - We're! Eh -"
"We're awesome!!" Miley supplies, and misses Lily's hand when she throws up a high five.
They giggle and collapse against a pillar, their bare shoulders bumping and tops flowing in a light breeze.
"It's too - hiccup - bad Ollie couldn't come tonight," Lily says, feeling the cold breeze on her right side and wishing her boyfriend was there to block it, a warm comfort to match the one on her left, provided by Miley.
"He's got his own shim - shindigs to go to - he wants to try and get his mixtape out to the producers, ya know?" Miley waves with her hands, overemphasizing and mostly just flapping in front of her.
"Why couldn't - uhh - you just do it? Don't you know these producers guys already?" Lily asks, looking down at the sand on her feet and wiggling her toes in deeper.
"Hey now! Who'ses the one got 'im an invite to the producer's party in the firss' place? There's a -like - a proper way to go 'bout these things - ish the industry, blah blah blaaaah," Miley shakes her head excessively, her brown hair flying out and brushing against Lily's cheek several times.
"Huuuuuh," is Lily's response, her attention already gone from the conversation and back to her sparkly skirt.
Miley continues on, however. "Besides, I wanted a girl's night out. Oliver's a sweetie, but he's not the girl ya want on your arm when ya crash a college dude's house party, ya know? You're my wingman, lady! Erh, Lily. Winglady - hic - Lily. Yup." And then Miley breathes in deep and holds her breath, her cheeks blown up like a squirrel's, presumably trying to cure herself of her hiccups.
In her head, Lily agrees that Oliver in a dress and sparkly eye shadow and heels could not compare to Miley in those things, and couldn't replace the fun she had tonight with Miley. It's just different when it's just Miley and Lily. It's good. Lily hears Miley release the air she trapped in her lungs and feels her hand fall to her side, the back of it brushing Lily's own. It prompts Lily to say something.
"No, no really though...You're way more than like, just my best friend, ya know?" She says softly. She no longer notices the cold on her right side because there's a heat coming from the place where Miley's hand is touching her skin that spreads warmth throughout her. Miley is quiet for a second, then grabs hold and entwines her fingers with Lily's.
"I know... I don't know how I could live without being with you..." and Miley's slur has disappeared and every word she says is now as clear to Lily as crystal.
"Yeah..?" Lily asks, not sure why she felt a blush rise to her cheeks.
"Yeah, like... It feels strange how much my heart hurts when I think about you not being here... I don't want you to move if your parent's divor - I mean... I'm sorry," and Miley turns her head away but grips tighter to Lily. The divorce isn't final yet, but the separation is, and it hasn't been decided with whom Lily will stay.
"It's not strange - that's what it feels like to love somebody," Lily says quietly, sure that she has felt the same ache in her heart at the thought of leaving Miley. Miley turns back to her.
"You think so?"
"Yeah... if you didn't love somebody, it wouldn't hurt so much to be apart from them. I know because I've felt that whenever we've fought and stopped talking to each other, and when you're away on tour, and when I... think about moving... And I know that I love you."
"I love you..." Miley speaks softly, as though trying the way the words feel on her tongue. "I love you," she repeats, and Lily nods next to her, her head tipping to lay on Miley's shoulder.
Lily's busy trying to pick out stars from between wood slats above her to notice as Miley moves a sheet of hair from her face and behind her shoulder, her face a mix of concentration and realization. She turns slowly and leans away from the pillar, Lily's shoulder dropping as she leaves, but her attention still curiously occupied by the bottom of the pier. Lily only looks down when she feels Miley's eyes on her, studying her face in the dark.
"Miles...?"
"Yup... I love you, Lily." Miley says with a straight face.
"Me too!" But before Lily can try for another high-five, Miley crashes into her, pushing her back against the pillar again, and she feels Miley's hips pin her there, and feels Miley's hands on her shoulders pressing hard, and oh God does she feel Miley's lips against hers, pressed hard and unmoving, almost as if scared, but then Miley loosens up and her lips slide across Lily's in a delightful friction and the kiss becomes less desperate and more comfortable and fun, like things always are with Miley.
"Yea... I'm sure," Miley says as she pulls out of the kiss, but her body still pinning Lily to the wood.
"S-sure of what?" Lily doesn't know if those are stars in her eyes, or the actual stars from the sky floating down around her.
"Sure that I'm in love with you."
Another kiss. And another. And it was a magical and profound moment and Lily's heart felt so big and she never knew making out could be so awesome because hey, let's be honest, Oliver is a clumsy guy in normal situations, he's no hands better in intimate ones.
But the next morning when Miley awoke in Lily's arms sprawled on the sofa because they hadn't made it up the stairs, she didn't say anything other than good morning and did not kiss Lily good morning either, which is something Lily was expecting her to do since they kinda like, confessed their undying love for each other last night and everything and then kinda made out for like hours and days and years.
But it was just as Lily feared - Miley was acting as though nothing had happened, and while she remained close and happy and giggly and just effortlessly Miley, Lily knew that this ache she had in her heart was something not so unfamiliar.
Lily never got the chance to say that she loved Miley. That she was in love with her, in a way she wasn't with Oliver. Eventually Lily convinced herself to get over it. It was just a night of teenage frivolity, you know how these things go. Ya have a couple drinks and suddenly you're confessing undying love and affection for each other, it happens.
But Lily wishes it didn't. She wishes she didn't have this deep secret within her, growling in the dark. It may have not meant anything to Miley, but it meant something to Lily. But what can she do about it?
The echoes of her memories wash away with the receding tide, as the sun rises over Malibu hills and high-end town houses, and Lily leaves her footprints in the sand behind her.
~fin?