I would go through all this pain, take a bullet straight through my brain
Title: For You
Characters: Jordan Langley & Christopher Mulligan
'Verse: Original / Scarlet Robe
Rating: PG-13
The sun was setting low behind the trees, sparking the sky with shades of red and orange, blending in with the blue as the leggy redhead flopped without ceremony next to the man on the porch swing. He glanced at her as she shoved a bottle of beer at him, hearing the pop of her cap before she took a drink.
“Must be a special occasion if you're drinking,” Christopher said to her before popping the cap off of his own bottle.
Jordan smirked, the bottle still touching her lip as she spoke. Her breath whistled through the bottle and its contents. “It's a quiet night. I figured why not. I like drinking.” She moved closer to him, curling her much smaller body up against his. He waited until her head was resting against his chest before placing an arm around her shoulders.
“You're getting a little too soft.”
She rewarded him with an elbow in his ribs, the beer dribbling from his mouth as he gasped. “Soft enough for you?”
“Hard enough.”
The woman shifted, pulling her arm up so that she could wipe his face with her sleeve, earning her a flat and irritated look to which she simply grinned. “You know I love you, Topher baby.”
He remained silent, sipping his drink as her dark eyes stayed trained on him. His eyes flicked over to her, eyebrows rising up. Silence. Always silence from him, as though he were expecting her to fill it all up with chatter... And it wouldn't be a very wrong assumption at that, now would it? Topher knew her well enough, Jordan knew.
“You're thinking,” she accused him, working her way out from under his arm to shift herself back into a more sitting position, facing him.
“Some people actually do that, Jojo,” he replied with a faint hint of a smile.
Her lips curled up at the nickname, the detest for it evident on her face for a quick moment before she rolled her eyes. “Okay, no. Seriously. Fess up. What's on your mind? I know you have that whole brooding guy look going for you, but you just aren't that g-”
The beer bottle was cold against her cheek as he placed it there, and she wondered if maybe he had forgotten he was even holding it as he leaned forward, hands on her face and lips pressing over hers, effectively drowning her words with a kiss she had been unprepared for. Still was, actually, as Jordan stared at him with wide eyes, her palms pressing against the back of his hands gently. It was soft, nice in an alien way, and she thought as carefully as she could about what she would say when he pulled back from her. When he didn't, when he pressed further, breathing her in even, she began to count. Backwards from ten, up to ten, until the numbers didn't even make sense.
Topher was kissing her.
And she felt nothing.
He pulled back, and she licked her lips, tasting him and beer. Laughing nervously, she punched him in the shoulder. She knew it. Just knew it. That he would do this to her one day, even after he said that he wouldn't ask her for what she couldn't even possibly give. And she couldn't give him it, could she? That physical connection between people, lovers.
“Nothing?” Topher finally asked, and Jordan shook her head slowly, mouth pulled into an apologetic frown.
He placed the beer down, running his now-free hand over his shaven head. “Figured, I guess. You kiss like a dead fish anyway.”
Jordan pulled back, jaw falling slack at the insult. “I what? I kiss very well, thank you very much. Women have grown weak in the knees when I've kissed them! I don't kiss like a fish!”
“You definitely kiss like one. I don't know how drunk these girls are, but you need new skills,” he told her blandly, shrugging as though it were no big deal.
She huffed, digging her hands into his shirt as she tugged him forward. “I don't kiss like a fish, you asshole. I am really good at kissing!”
“Look, it's no big deal, Jo. You can't kiss me. I just wanted to see how it was.”
He was challenging her, and she was falling for it. And the worst part was that they both knew it. With a growl, she kissed him again, eyes falling shut. She could do this. He felt all wrong, too manly with his scent, with his large hands and the stubble rubbing against her face as she pulled him closer. All she needed to do was imagine someone else, a woman, and behind her lids, Topher became Miranda. His lips were hers, his hands, his body, and even though she could feel him, she could only see her.
His hands gripped her back, running up until they reached her shoulders and wrenched her back, breathlessly calling her name out. “Jordan.”
“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” Jordan gasped, ducking her head so that her red curls fell into her face, obscuring the tears she had brought on.
“Jo...” Topher brushed her hair out of the way, brushed against her wet face. “Sorry.”
“It just... Hurts all the time. I don't know how I can... I just...” Hyperventilating, she vaguely thought to herself, unable to keep from becoming a wreck again. His hand splayed against her back, between her shoulder blades, shoving her forward until her vision was filled with the wood boards of the porch. That hand rubbed her back slowly as he told her to breathe deeply, and she listened to his words until her chest didn't feel like it was going to explode.
“Jordan... I didn't mean to,” he apologized again, his voice strained, mournful.
She hated how attune to her he was, how quick he was to guess her thoughts and her feelings and just know her. Her hands pressed to her face. “It was my fault.” Finally, she leaned back against the seat, eyes on the forest. “I can't give it to you, Christopher. I don't feel connected like I should. Not that... I didn't enjoy it. On some level. You're just too masculine. If you were a girl, oh God...”
“I know,” he sighed.
Jordan glanced at him, heart breaking. “I wish... I don't want to be alone, and I do love you. And it's not like... 'Oh, you're my best friend' kind of love. Although, it is. I'm not making any sense.”
“You're not.”
They fell into silence, and she grabbed his hand, holding it tightly. “It wouldn't be fair to either of us.”
“I could live without it.”
“I couldn't,” she admitted softly. Snorting, her lips pursed as her head fell back. “I knew you would go back on your word with this one.” Her eyes closed against the dimming light.
He let go of her hand, and the shift of balance on the seat changed as he stood up. Her eyes opened again, that pain in her chest returning, because the mere thought of losing her best friend over something as trivial as sex was too much to bear. If that's what it would take to keep him... But he smiled at her, pointing to the screen door. “We're going to need something a lot stronger than beer.”
“You're going to get me drunk and have your way with me, aren't you?” Jordan asked with a dark laugh, eyes narrowed at him.
“That's the plan,” Christopher replied in the most deadpan voice he could manage.
Characters: Jordan Langley & Christopher Mulligan
'Verse: Original / Scarlet Robe
Rating: PG-13
The sun was setting low behind the trees, sparking the sky with shades of red and orange, blending in with the blue as the leggy redhead flopped without ceremony next to the man on the porch swing. He glanced at her as she shoved a bottle of beer at him, hearing the pop of her cap before she took a drink.
“Must be a special occasion if you're drinking,” Christopher said to her before popping the cap off of his own bottle.
Jordan smirked, the bottle still touching her lip as she spoke. Her breath whistled through the bottle and its contents. “It's a quiet night. I figured why not. I like drinking.” She moved closer to him, curling her much smaller body up against his. He waited until her head was resting against his chest before placing an arm around her shoulders.
“You're getting a little too soft.”
She rewarded him with an elbow in his ribs, the beer dribbling from his mouth as he gasped. “Soft enough for you?”
“Hard enough.”
The woman shifted, pulling her arm up so that she could wipe his face with her sleeve, earning her a flat and irritated look to which she simply grinned. “You know I love you, Topher baby.”
He remained silent, sipping his drink as her dark eyes stayed trained on him. His eyes flicked over to her, eyebrows rising up. Silence. Always silence from him, as though he were expecting her to fill it all up with chatter... And it wouldn't be a very wrong assumption at that, now would it? Topher knew her well enough, Jordan knew.
“You're thinking,” she accused him, working her way out from under his arm to shift herself back into a more sitting position, facing him.
“Some people actually do that, Jojo,” he replied with a faint hint of a smile.
Her lips curled up at the nickname, the detest for it evident on her face for a quick moment before she rolled her eyes. “Okay, no. Seriously. Fess up. What's on your mind? I know you have that whole brooding guy look going for you, but you just aren't that g-”
The beer bottle was cold against her cheek as he placed it there, and she wondered if maybe he had forgotten he was even holding it as he leaned forward, hands on her face and lips pressing over hers, effectively drowning her words with a kiss she had been unprepared for. Still was, actually, as Jordan stared at him with wide eyes, her palms pressing against the back of his hands gently. It was soft, nice in an alien way, and she thought as carefully as she could about what she would say when he pulled back from her. When he didn't, when he pressed further, breathing her in even, she began to count. Backwards from ten, up to ten, until the numbers didn't even make sense.
Topher was kissing her.
And she felt nothing.
He pulled back, and she licked her lips, tasting him and beer. Laughing nervously, she punched him in the shoulder. She knew it. Just knew it. That he would do this to her one day, even after he said that he wouldn't ask her for what she couldn't even possibly give. And she couldn't give him it, could she? That physical connection between people, lovers.
“Nothing?” Topher finally asked, and Jordan shook her head slowly, mouth pulled into an apologetic frown.
He placed the beer down, running his now-free hand over his shaven head. “Figured, I guess. You kiss like a dead fish anyway.”
Jordan pulled back, jaw falling slack at the insult. “I what? I kiss very well, thank you very much. Women have grown weak in the knees when I've kissed them! I don't kiss like a fish!”
“You definitely kiss like one. I don't know how drunk these girls are, but you need new skills,” he told her blandly, shrugging as though it were no big deal.
She huffed, digging her hands into his shirt as she tugged him forward. “I don't kiss like a fish, you asshole. I am really good at kissing!”
“Look, it's no big deal, Jo. You can't kiss me. I just wanted to see how it was.”
He was challenging her, and she was falling for it. And the worst part was that they both knew it. With a growl, she kissed him again, eyes falling shut. She could do this. He felt all wrong, too manly with his scent, with his large hands and the stubble rubbing against her face as she pulled him closer. All she needed to do was imagine someone else, a woman, and behind her lids, Topher became Miranda. His lips were hers, his hands, his body, and even though she could feel him, she could only see her.
His hands gripped her back, running up until they reached her shoulders and wrenched her back, breathlessly calling her name out. “Jordan.”
“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” Jordan gasped, ducking her head so that her red curls fell into her face, obscuring the tears she had brought on.
“Jo...” Topher brushed her hair out of the way, brushed against her wet face. “Sorry.”
“It just... Hurts all the time. I don't know how I can... I just...” Hyperventilating, she vaguely thought to herself, unable to keep from becoming a wreck again. His hand splayed against her back, between her shoulder blades, shoving her forward until her vision was filled with the wood boards of the porch. That hand rubbed her back slowly as he told her to breathe deeply, and she listened to his words until her chest didn't feel like it was going to explode.
“Jordan... I didn't mean to,” he apologized again, his voice strained, mournful.
She hated how attune to her he was, how quick he was to guess her thoughts and her feelings and just know her. Her hands pressed to her face. “It was my fault.” Finally, she leaned back against the seat, eyes on the forest. “I can't give it to you, Christopher. I don't feel connected like I should. Not that... I didn't enjoy it. On some level. You're just too masculine. If you were a girl, oh God...”
“I know,” he sighed.
Jordan glanced at him, heart breaking. “I wish... I don't want to be alone, and I do love you. And it's not like... 'Oh, you're my best friend' kind of love. Although, it is. I'm not making any sense.”
“You're not.”
They fell into silence, and she grabbed his hand, holding it tightly. “It wouldn't be fair to either of us.”
“I could live without it.”
“I couldn't,” she admitted softly. Snorting, her lips pursed as her head fell back. “I knew you would go back on your word with this one.” Her eyes closed against the dimming light.
He let go of her hand, and the shift of balance on the seat changed as he stood up. Her eyes opened again, that pain in her chest returning, because the mere thought of losing her best friend over something as trivial as sex was too much to bear. If that's what it would take to keep him... But he smiled at her, pointing to the screen door. “We're going to need something a lot stronger than beer.”
“You're going to get me drunk and have your way with me, aren't you?” Jordan asked with a dark laugh, eyes narrowed at him.
“That's the plan,” Christopher replied in the most deadpan voice he could manage.