TSCC [It's a Crime]
Title: It's a Crime
Fandom: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Author: Tin Miss
Rating: T
Warnings: Suggestiveness, slight language
Genre: Angst, Romance
Characters: Derek, Sarah
Pairing: Derek/Sarah, mentions of Derek/Jesse
Word Count: 1183
Author Notes: Requested bytearlit who provided the quotes fromwriters_muses
----
"You're obsessed with her, aren't you?"
Obsessed? Derek never really considered himself an 'obsessive' man when it came to women. Determined, certainly. Dogged, maybe. Downright persistent, on occasion. But obsessive... It was a dirty word. But then, maybe in a world that was nothing but ash, dirty wasn't so uncommon.
Except that when this dirty word finally came about it wasn't in his world. It was in this new-- old-- shiny one. All sunshine and goddamned daisies. A world of kids playing in the park, couples sharing milkshakes and families sitting down at the table for dinner. A world with dark hair and green eyes, slightly bronzed skin and five feet, five inches of concentrated determination and defiance.
And he brought in a dirty word.
You're obsessed with her, aren't you?
Yes. Yes, alright, he admitted it. Yes, he was obsessed with her. Yes, he watched her toss and turn in her sleep at night. Yes, he watched her make pancakes in the morning. Yes, he panicked when he saw the house burning. Yes, he was harsher than he should have been with the paramedic that saved his life. Yes, he wished she would have let him help her.
Yes, yes, yes. Yes, he was obsessed.
But how could he not be? How could he not be when Kyle showed him that damned picture every day? How could he not be when he saw her in person and she was "prettier than her picture"? How could he not be when she fought so hard, stayed so strong? How could he not be when he watched her finally fall apart...?
And yes, Jesse had called him on it. Yes, she knew him too well. Yes, he compared them, and no he didn't mean to. No, he didn't mean to lie there next to her and wonder if Sarah would ever let him lie like that with her. And no, he didn't know why he was confirming all of this to himself when in the end his answer would still be:
"She's not my type."
And he knew Jesse didn't buy it. And he knew he could taste the lie on his lips with a brief kiss. And he knew that she knew he was going back to her. Back where he didn't really have a home, didn't have a bed, didn't have a prayer save his own. His own that were consumed by her.
And yes, they both knew this time, there was a future out there where they weren't together.
--
"Have you no sense of decency left, or have you completely sold your soul this time?"
Sold his soul? Yeah, he sold his soul. A long time ago when he lost his little brother to the machines. He sold it to General John Connor hoping to get him back. He lost his decency, too, when he let Kyle fight alongside him. But he'd never really felt bad about it-- maybe hadn't allowed himself to feel bad about it-- until right that moment.
He knew it was those intense green eyes staring back at him fiercely as he pinned her against the fridge, fully aware of what this would look like if John walked in.
Fully aware of what it really 'was'.
And fully aware that she had yet to push him off.
Had she seen it coming, too? Somewhere in the back of her mind, her subconscious telling her that every fight, every argument, every staring contest and battle of wills was leading up to this? To heavy breathing and intense eyes and hands on either side of her hips locking her in. To him towering over her and leaning in. To her pushing up and letting her eyes flutter closed.
To dry lips pressing carefully against soft ones.
He pulled back just slightly, his eyes searching out hers. And when they lifted finally, eyelashes a sooty black that reminded him of the blackened ashes of the world to come, he could see it in her face. She wanted this.
Which was why he was slightly caught off guard when she braced her hands on his broad shoulders and shoved him back until his lower back his the island counter. She stalked off in what seemed to be anger, refusing to meet his gaze.
No, he had no sense of decency left and yes, he had sold his soul. Completely.
--
"I don't care. I want it finished. Whether you respect me at the end of it or not is none of my concern."
And that was the truth. Finished. Done. Over. He didn't care how he got there, just so long as he was still standing at the end. Standing, not slumped down on his knees, hunched over as an empty shell knowing what he'd lost. What he'd given up. Standing, because that's what soldiers do. Standing, because it made it that much easier to fight. Standing, because it made it that much easier to walk away.
He would ignore the look of regret that crossed her features in brevity by holding her face between his hands and crashing his lips onto hers. He would close his eyes so he wouldn't see the soot-lined flutter of her eyes or the dark tresses of her soft hair that were getting tangled in his fingers. He would kiss her deeply until it was hard to breathe so he wouldn't be consumed by the heady scent of lavender.
Her hands pushed at his chest, gripped at his shirt, smoothed along his torso. He couldn't tell if she wanted him off or wanted him closer, but when his mouth trailed along her cheek and down her neck to nip at her collarbone, she didn't protest. She didn't shove him off like last time, she didn't tell him to stop. And when he heard the sharp intake of breath, he knew she wouldn't.
"Derek..."
He tried to ignore the breathy sound of her voice. He tried to pretend the slow stroke of her fingers wasn't scorching like fire across his back. He tried to pretend that the way he touched her body was nothing more or less than lust and desire. He avoided her lips, because he knew another kiss would be too intimate, too personal.
"Derek..."
But the way she kept saying his name. He had to stop her. He had to cover his mouth with hers and swallow her voice. And the moment he did, he knew it was over. He was undone. Because her lips were too soft, and her tongue was too sweet, and her nose bumped against his and his stubble rubbed her cheeks rosy.
He couldn't pretend anymore. And at the end of this he knew he wouldn't be standing. He wouldn't be walking away. No matter what she said or did after this night, or how much distance she put between them, he was going to live and deal with the ramifications.
And if only in his mind, he was going to have to accept that Sarah Connor just had a way with the Reese boys.
Fandom: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Author: Tin Miss
Rating: T
Warnings: Suggestiveness, slight language
Genre: Angst, Romance
Characters: Derek, Sarah
Pairing: Derek/Sarah, mentions of Derek/Jesse
Word Count: 1183
Author Notes: Requested bytearlit who provided the quotes fromwriters_muses
----
"You're obsessed with her, aren't you?"
Obsessed? Derek never really considered himself an 'obsessive' man when it came to women. Determined, certainly. Dogged, maybe. Downright persistent, on occasion. But obsessive... It was a dirty word. But then, maybe in a world that was nothing but ash, dirty wasn't so uncommon.
Except that when this dirty word finally came about it wasn't in his world. It was in this new-- old-- shiny one. All sunshine and goddamned daisies. A world of kids playing in the park, couples sharing milkshakes and families sitting down at the table for dinner. A world with dark hair and green eyes, slightly bronzed skin and five feet, five inches of concentrated determination and defiance.
And he brought in a dirty word.
You're obsessed with her, aren't you?
Yes. Yes, alright, he admitted it. Yes, he was obsessed with her. Yes, he watched her toss and turn in her sleep at night. Yes, he watched her make pancakes in the morning. Yes, he panicked when he saw the house burning. Yes, he was harsher than he should have been with the paramedic that saved his life. Yes, he wished she would have let him help her.
Yes, yes, yes. Yes, he was obsessed.
But how could he not be? How could he not be when Kyle showed him that damned picture every day? How could he not be when he saw her in person and she was "prettier than her picture"? How could he not be when she fought so hard, stayed so strong? How could he not be when he watched her finally fall apart...?
And yes, Jesse had called him on it. Yes, she knew him too well. Yes, he compared them, and no he didn't mean to. No, he didn't mean to lie there next to her and wonder if Sarah would ever let him lie like that with her. And no, he didn't know why he was confirming all of this to himself when in the end his answer would still be:
"She's not my type."
And he knew Jesse didn't buy it. And he knew he could taste the lie on his lips with a brief kiss. And he knew that she knew he was going back to her. Back where he didn't really have a home, didn't have a bed, didn't have a prayer save his own. His own that were consumed by her.
And yes, they both knew this time, there was a future out there where they weren't together.
--
"Have you no sense of decency left, or have you completely sold your soul this time?"
Sold his soul? Yeah, he sold his soul. A long time ago when he lost his little brother to the machines. He sold it to General John Connor hoping to get him back. He lost his decency, too, when he let Kyle fight alongside him. But he'd never really felt bad about it-- maybe hadn't allowed himself to feel bad about it-- until right that moment.
He knew it was those intense green eyes staring back at him fiercely as he pinned her against the fridge, fully aware of what this would look like if John walked in.
Fully aware of what it really 'was'.
And fully aware that she had yet to push him off.
Had she seen it coming, too? Somewhere in the back of her mind, her subconscious telling her that every fight, every argument, every staring contest and battle of wills was leading up to this? To heavy breathing and intense eyes and hands on either side of her hips locking her in. To him towering over her and leaning in. To her pushing up and letting her eyes flutter closed.
To dry lips pressing carefully against soft ones.
He pulled back just slightly, his eyes searching out hers. And when they lifted finally, eyelashes a sooty black that reminded him of the blackened ashes of the world to come, he could see it in her face. She wanted this.
Which was why he was slightly caught off guard when she braced her hands on his broad shoulders and shoved him back until his lower back his the island counter. She stalked off in what seemed to be anger, refusing to meet his gaze.
No, he had no sense of decency left and yes, he had sold his soul. Completely.
--
"I don't care. I want it finished. Whether you respect me at the end of it or not is none of my concern."
And that was the truth. Finished. Done. Over. He didn't care how he got there, just so long as he was still standing at the end. Standing, not slumped down on his knees, hunched over as an empty shell knowing what he'd lost. What he'd given up. Standing, because that's what soldiers do. Standing, because it made it that much easier to fight. Standing, because it made it that much easier to walk away.
He would ignore the look of regret that crossed her features in brevity by holding her face between his hands and crashing his lips onto hers. He would close his eyes so he wouldn't see the soot-lined flutter of her eyes or the dark tresses of her soft hair that were getting tangled in his fingers. He would kiss her deeply until it was hard to breathe so he wouldn't be consumed by the heady scent of lavender.
Her hands pushed at his chest, gripped at his shirt, smoothed along his torso. He couldn't tell if she wanted him off or wanted him closer, but when his mouth trailed along her cheek and down her neck to nip at her collarbone, she didn't protest. She didn't shove him off like last time, she didn't tell him to stop. And when he heard the sharp intake of breath, he knew she wouldn't.
"Derek..."
He tried to ignore the breathy sound of her voice. He tried to pretend the slow stroke of her fingers wasn't scorching like fire across his back. He tried to pretend that the way he touched her body was nothing more or less than lust and desire. He avoided her lips, because he knew another kiss would be too intimate, too personal.
"Derek..."
But the way she kept saying his name. He had to stop her. He had to cover his mouth with hers and swallow her voice. And the moment he did, he knew it was over. He was undone. Because her lips were too soft, and her tongue was too sweet, and her nose bumped against his and his stubble rubbed her cheeks rosy.
He couldn't pretend anymore. And at the end of this he knew he wouldn't be standing. He wouldn't be walking away. No matter what she said or did after this night, or how much distance she put between them, he was going to live and deal with the ramifications.
And if only in his mind, he was going to have to accept that Sarah Connor just had a way with the Reese boys.