|Just a Kiss
Author: NotAContrivance PM
The bottle spun once, twice, three times… Four, five, six… And then, on the seventh rotation, it stopped... But you can't change the past, now can you? Elizabeth reflects on kissing.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Angst - Chapters: 3 - Words: 2,908 - Reviews: 18 - Favs: 12 - Follows: 3 - Published: 04-25-05 - Status: Complete - id: 2367263
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Ah, the exciting conclusion to this little story! Oh, and, by the way, Elizabeth has her own little make-up line, so that's what she's talking about when she says she's stressed. Oh, and Garth's her lackey. This is set in the future, so after the second season which I know nothing about… So this is probably all weird, and it would be incredibly amusing if anything like this ever happened in the show.
Don't own Wicked Science… I haven't even seen more than five seconds of an episode in English, for crying out loud.
This is the first Wicked Science fic. How odd. Hopefully it won't be the only one…
Anyways, hope you like it.
"I'm different… around you than I am with other people." – Elizabeth to Toby.
She remembers her third kiss.
She remembers this kiss most of all.
She was seventeen-going-on-thirty-five and so exhausted she was surprised that she didn't pass out. It was late, and she and Jack had broken up. The pain of the break-up, of the fact that he was just using her, still lingered even though he hadn't.
You hadn't expected to run into him. Your wits failed you, and you seemed to have lost the ability to talk. You tried to leave, thinking it would be all for the best.
But Toby stopped you in your tracks. He grabbed your arm and stopped you. You sighed deeply, wishing to do nothing but leave.
He surprised you, just like he always did.
"What's wrong?" He asked kindly.
You were floored at the odd concern in his voice. You blinked once, twice, three times to see if you were hallucinating.
And suddenly, you couldn't hold back anymore. As you sobbed, he wrapped an arm around you and walked you to his little bungalow. You didn't even notice that you'd walked there until he opened the door for you.
You two walked inside, and he held you as you cried into his chest. He asked you what was wrong again, and this time you decided to answer him instead of just crying.
Suddenly, all the pain you'd bottled up and hidden away came to the surface, and you found yourself telling him everything. All the things you had never told anyone.
You told him about your fight with Verity, and how she had turned Garth against her. You told him about how hard it was to balance school, the make-up line, and your petty competitions. You told him about how you hadn't seen your parents in days, and how when they were home, they nagged you about the make-up line and your grades. You told him about how you felt like one day you would crack into a million pieces, and no one would be able to put you back together. You told him about Jack, and about how what he had done still hurt.
The pain of that wound was fresh… Too fresh. It hurt all the more. You realized then that if you bottled up pain, it only got worse.
You told him all your hopes and all your dreams, and he just stood there, nodding silently and whispering soft, soothing things into your hair.
When you weren't sobbing so much, you stepped back from him a little, to get a good look at him. His shirt was messy and wet from your tears, but he looked the same as he always did. Tall, skinny, his hair messy as usual, brown eyes bright with sympathy.
Sighing, she fingered the wetness on his shirt, and Toby took a sharp intake of breath. Curiously, you looked up, wondering if you really had this kind of effect on him. Your eyes met.
"I'm sorry… Your shirt," Elizabeth said softly, awkwardly.
Her fingers were still on his shirt, and Toby shrugged, still staring into her eyes. He moved back a little, turning, and you were afraid you'd scared him off. But he wasn't rejecting you, not this time.
He took off his shirt with his back to Elizabeth. She blushed. Then Toby turned and caught you staring at him. A slow smile spread across his face, but his stare remained unreadable to her. He took a step forward, and then, so did you.
The next thing you knew you were doing what you had wanted to do since, well, kindergarten. You were finally kissing Toby.
It wasn't sloppy and sophomoric, it wasn't rough and forceful like it was with Jack. It was what you wanted, what you'd always needed in a kiss. It was one of those stupid clichés, and you, Elizabeth Hawke, felt like some movie heroine, which of course you weren't.
You were more likely to be a villainess, you thought dryly.
It was soft, tender, and sweet, but not sickly sweet. It was fresh and deep from the years she had waited for this. It was raw and real, and there was a rough force behind it, a force that was not unlike the one with Jack, but it was less demanding and it didn't hurt as much.
This hurt, she thought, could easily be declared pleasant.
Then you smiled against his mouth and kept kissing him. He didn't object. You closed your fluttering eyelids and let yourself sink down into the couch.
You woke up the next morning warm and wrapped up in Toby and his blanket. It hurt a little to move, sleeping all twisted up like that, and your muscles were sore. But you didn't really mind.
You just lay there, in his arms for a minute. Then you rolled over and kissed him. His eyes opened wide, and he stared at you for a moment, tired and bewildered. A moment later, his eyes flashed with the dangerous understanding of what had happened between you the night before. But he smiled at you, and you felt his gaze on you as you pulled on your clothes.
Picking up your watch, you noticed that you were going to be late for school. Hurriedly, you looked around for something that you could wear so it didn't look like you'd had a "rough" night. Toby threw some clothes at you. You fought the urge to giggle at him.
You pulled a red print wife-beater over your head, tugged on a pair of baggy jeans that were ragged at the bottom, running one of his belts through the loops, zipping up the pair of boots you'd first worn there. You folded your clothes, cramming them in the bottom of your backpack, and looked expectantly at Toby, who grinned crookedly at you.
The clothes were too big for you, and too small for him, but they fit her well enough. Slinging your backpack on your shoulder, you hurried out the door.
When she got to school, she just figured that they'd ignore each other and things would go back to the way they were before. And she was okay with that. She really was. Or, at least, that's what she tried to convince herself.
You two parted ways, and your messy, punk look garnered a few stares. You glared back fiercely. The day dragged by, but you were once again set to leave.
And, once again, Toby grabbed your wrist, tenderly this time, in front of everyone, especially Russ and Dina, who had come back. He said you needed to talk and you agreed, but you shook your head no and tried to leave.
What he did next floored you. More than anything else ever had. In a fluid motion, he pulled you to him, kissing you passionately. He didn't care who saw, or what his friends would say.
He just kissed her, eyes closed.
And, just like that, she remembers her fourth kiss.
If you liked it, review… If not, then, uh, go away.
And if you have no idea what the heck this show is, well, that makes two of us… lol…
Okay, I'm going to post this before I decide against it. I thank anyone who took the time to read this… And, yeah.