Disclaimer: All players and portrayers © themselves. Based on the movie © Disney. And I don't own Charles Dickens...
A light smile graced his features as he leaned against the bedroom door. He had wanted nothing more than to fall into bed next to her after his exhausting practice, but he managed to put it off for a moment, if only to look at her. She was lying on her side with her back facing him, and yet, he knew, undoubtedly, that there was a book open in front of her. Her feet were hidden beneath the comforter, warding off the cold December air as best she could manage.
He grinned as he moved to join her, and let his cold hand trail over an exposed section of skin on her back where her shirt had ridden up. She jumped, dropping her book. He gave a lift of his brow before taking her lips with his.
"Hey," he stated, as he pulled back, letting his hand drop around her waist in the process. She twisted her head around so that she could see him, propped up behind her.
"Hey, yourself," she replied, taking off her reading glasses, which caused strands of her chestnut locks to fall in front of her face. "There are better ways to get my attention, you know." She was referring to his cold fingers on her back, but he glossed over that with an easy grin.
"What, you don't like this?" He asked, brushing her hair away to expose her shoulder, neck, and jaw line. He kissed her shoulder. "Or this?" He kissed her neck. "Or this?" He kissed her jaw. She bit the left side of her lip, the right twisting up into the tell tale beginnings of a grin.
"Actually, I kind of prefer this." She rolled herself over slightly to where she was more on her back, and let her fingers run through his hair as she pulled him down to meet her in a lip lock.
"I'm pretty fond of that myself," he grinned when they broke apart. She laughed, lightly hitting him in the chest with the back of her hand.
"Anyway," she started, "I should be angry with you."
"And why is that?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow as he let his finger trace figures on her shoulder, her arm, her thigh.
"What do you mean 'why is that'?" She gave him a halfhearted glare, and he shrugged innocently in return. "You put your freezing cold hand on my bare skin, make me lose my page, and now you're distracting me."
"But you like the distraction?" He asked, letting his lips trail across her jaw line. She couldn't help the light moan that escaped her lips.
"You're completely unfair," she replied. He laughed, pulling back, and finally fully laying down next to her.
"You've read that book a hundred times, and you've seen every version of it on film," he pointed out, glancing down at the top of her hair where the reflection of the light made a ring that seemed to turn her hair a golden color, as she'd moved to put her head on his shoulder. She picked up her book in the process, slipping her glasses back on and searching through the pages.
"It's a holiday classic," she murmured, though only half heartedly in the conversation, as she was now completely intent on finding her lost page.
"Most people hate reading Dickens," he retorted. He didn't know why he was trying so hard. He was exhausted, but something about her lying next to him made him want to stay awake as long as possible.
"And you would know this how?" She repositioned herself again to where her chin was on his chest, and she could easily look into his eyes over the rim of her glasses. "Last I checked you weren't really on the up and up on the reading front."
"I try." He smirked. She laughed, rolling back on to her back, and resuming her search.
"You've never had to read a book longer than a hundred pages."
"Sure I have."
"Oh, yeah?" She actually seemed somewhat interested, her finger moving up the edge of the book to dog ear the page. She pulled away from him.
"Where'd you go?" He propped himself up on his elbows, looking at her back.
"I was putting my book away," she stated, turning back and leaning toward him. "But if you'd rather I kept it out." Her sentence trailed off, and he grinned, letting himself fall back again and entangling his hand in her hair. She smiled, closing her eyes and leaning toward him.
"You sure I won't be ruining your holiday classic for you?" He asked before she could reach him. Her smile still lingered and she didn't open her eyes.
"You telling me you don't want to make a holiday classic of our own?" She responded, a question for a question. He grinned; she could feel his upturned lips when she pressed her matching ones to his, her book and his exhaustion no longer seeming to matter.
Dave Silk. Because, recently, as I've been re-watching the movie again, I've found a sudden fascination with him. Again, I apologize for the shortness. But, uh, I guess most of these are this short anyway, it's just that my self-imposed word minimum on Tangents is about 2500, so when I don't even make it to 1000, I'm a little hesitant to go ahead and post. But, anyway, an idea partially inspired by Peter Cincotti's UBU (which is fantastic, by the way…;)), that evolved while writing and just had to end where it did. I hope you like him. I want to do Bah again soon…and I've still got a Jim Craig moment stuck in my head…
BelieveInMagic06: I'm glad you're enjoying them, and thanks for leaving a review! It's always a day brightener. :)
LTJM: Oh, thanks so much! I'm glad my nonsense provided entertainment for a little while. ;)
Thanks for reading! :)