(no subject)
Title: There's a metaphor
Word Count: 469
Rating: G
Written for: Anonymous on tumblr
Prompt: Tea. Nutella. Chess. First Kiss
“Come on, Matt try it!” Karen wheedles, waving the spoon tantalisingly in front of him; Matt just rolls his eyes.
“Karen Sheila Gillan, I am 29 years old. I refuse to eat Nutella with a spoon.”
Karen laughs. “Suit yourself,” she grins, eating the spoonfull of chocolate spread with a look of pure bliss on her face; Matt leans back slightly opposite her, sipping his tea and looking - no, not looking, laughing - at her from over the rim of his mug.
“Go on, then,” he laughs quickly, motioning at the board between them. “Your go.”
____
They’re reached something of a stalemate, and Matt thinks that rings true in more ways than one.
“Go on, Gillan,” he prompts, smirking at her. She’s got her brow furrowed in concentration, and her hair pulled back in a messy haphazard knot because it kept falling into her eyes, and she looks - well - perfect.
If perfect were a word Matt would ever apply to Karen Gillan, of course. She just looks like she always does, and that’s all there is to it.
“Ugh, I can’t see - I mean, I know there’s something I can do -” Karen hits the table in front of her with a frustrated groan. Matt doesn’t tell her that she’s right, that there is in fact one single move she could make to end this game - she needs to come to the conclusion herself, and again Matt wonders when he started seeing metaphors in everything.
“Just look,” he tells her encouragingly. “I mean, if you can’t spot a brilliant move, just move a pawn or something, you know I’m in no position to end the game in my next go…”
“Yeah, but -” Karen frowns again. “I want to win, and I know I can, I just - can’t - see - it.”
Matt shrugs, smiling at her anger, and leans back in his char to wait.
“Hey, Matt?” Karen is staring hard at the board, her lips curved in a slight smirk now.
“Mmm?” He’s slumped back against his pillow, the mug of long-gone-cold tea held loosely in one hand.
“C’mere a sec, look at this.”
He leans forwards, thinking she’s about to suggest a move to him - she always does this, tries and gets him to help her beat him - but then a slender hand is setting down his mug of tea for him, and she forces him to look at her.
“K..” Matt’s mouth is dry; she shouldn’t have this effect on him, she reallyshouldn’t, not when they’ve got another six months of filming to go. “Karen?”
“Checkmate,” Karen smirks, bringing the white queen forwards to attack Matt’s one remaining rook, shattering his king’s defences.
As their lips collide over the battlefield, he thinks they’ve both won.
Word Count: 469
Rating: G
Written for: Anonymous on tumblr
Prompt: Tea. Nutella. Chess. First Kiss
“Come on, Matt try it!” Karen wheedles, waving the spoon tantalisingly in front of him; Matt just rolls his eyes.
“Karen Sheila Gillan, I am 29 years old. I refuse to eat Nutella with a spoon.”
Karen laughs. “Suit yourself,” she grins, eating the spoonfull of chocolate spread with a look of pure bliss on her face; Matt leans back slightly opposite her, sipping his tea and looking - no, not looking, laughing - at her from over the rim of his mug.
“Go on, then,” he laughs quickly, motioning at the board between them. “Your go.”
____
They’re reached something of a stalemate, and Matt thinks that rings true in more ways than one.
“Go on, Gillan,” he prompts, smirking at her. She’s got her brow furrowed in concentration, and her hair pulled back in a messy haphazard knot because it kept falling into her eyes, and she looks - well - perfect.
If perfect were a word Matt would ever apply to Karen Gillan, of course. She just looks like she always does, and that’s all there is to it.
“Ugh, I can’t see - I mean, I know there’s something I can do -” Karen hits the table in front of her with a frustrated groan. Matt doesn’t tell her that she’s right, that there is in fact one single move she could make to end this game - she needs to come to the conclusion herself, and again Matt wonders when he started seeing metaphors in everything.
“Just look,” he tells her encouragingly. “I mean, if you can’t spot a brilliant move, just move a pawn or something, you know I’m in no position to end the game in my next go…”
“Yeah, but -” Karen frowns again. “I want to win, and I know I can, I just - can’t - see - it.”
Matt shrugs, smiling at her anger, and leans back in his char to wait.
“Hey, Matt?” Karen is staring hard at the board, her lips curved in a slight smirk now.
“Mmm?” He’s slumped back against his pillow, the mug of long-gone-cold tea held loosely in one hand.
“C’mere a sec, look at this.”
He leans forwards, thinking she’s about to suggest a move to him - she always does this, tries and gets him to help her beat him - but then a slender hand is setting down his mug of tea for him, and she forces him to look at her.
“K..” Matt’s mouth is dry; she shouldn’t have this effect on him, she reallyshouldn’t, not when they’ve got another six months of filming to go. “Karen?”
“Checkmate,” Karen smirks, bringing the white queen forwards to attack Matt’s one remaining rook, shattering his king’s defences.
As their lips collide over the battlefield, he thinks they’ve both won.