Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana.


A/N: Wow, so this is my first one-shot ever! Basically, it's just a random idea I got all the way back in November (and btw, that's BEFORE Loliver happened...I didn't feel like changing it to fit the current episodes because it's MY fanfic)... I apologise if it's way too long and boring, cuz like I said, I'm a first-timer at the one-shot thing. xP


This fic is dedicated to THERESA! For several reasons. :] First, TODAY is her BIRTHDAY! Feliz Quince años! -throws confetti- Second, she is just about my bestest friend ever on this earth. :D Third, she saved this fic from certain deletion and deserves, like, a medal for that. xD Oh, she also thought up the title (cuz she's amazingly creative), and unintentionally inspired a couple of the lines too... Yes. I could go on. xD

So basically... I LOVE YOU THERESA, YOU AMAZING FANTASTICAL WRITER YOU. (Oh whoops, did I accidentally hit caps lock? My bad. xD)


//With a Cherry On Top\\

by Made of Ossum (aka GiGi)


"I wonder why Lilly is taking so long," Miley sighed after glancing at her watch for the hundredth time since she'd arrived home that day.

"Are you kidding me?" Oliver, who was sitting next to her on the couch in her living room, laughed. "A million new chick flicks came out on DVD recently. She'll never be able to choose just one." He shook his head. "Plus Jackson drove her. And we both know how distracted Lilly gets when he's around."

Miley turned her big blue eyes on him. "You're right," she groaned reluctantly, knowing an I-told-you-so would inevitably follow.

Sure enough—

"I told you to let me go pick the movie," Oliver whined.

Man, he didn't waste a second, did he?

"Like you would've done any better," Miley rolled her eyes. "Lilly and I would be stuck watching some 3-hour long action movie and absolutely die of boredom!" She grimaced a little over-dramatically to prove her point.

"Well it's hardly fair that you make me sit through your dumb chick flicks!" he rebutted.

"Romantic comedies!" Miley immediately corrected him.

"Same difference," Oliver grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

"So you love soap operas but hate romcoms," she suddenly brought up teasingly, a smile playing at her lips, despite her attempts to try and keep her expression serious. "Somehow I find that hard to believe..."

"I do not love them," Oliver stated firmly. "I watch them when my grandma visits because no one else will and I care about her feelings!" To Miley it just sounded like a lame excuse he'd rehearsed long ago, should he ever need to defend himself for his unmanly obsession as he did now.

"You love them," she insisted, her voice taking on a melodic tone. "Ollie loooves his soap operas."

"I do not!" he exclaimed in frustration. Then as an afterthought he added, "And do not call me that!"

"What, Ollie?" Miley laughed musically.

He instantly regretted opening his mouth.

"Ollie, Ollie, Ollie... You know, I like it; it has a little ring to it and—"

"I want popcorn," Oliver interrupted huffily.

Her mouth dropped open. "Are you trying to change the subject?" she asked in disbelief.

Oliver ignored her and got up, making a beeline for the kitchen.

"Hey!" she cried out. "You can't just walk away like that! I wasn't finished!"

"I'm hungry," he replied matter-of-factly, as if that were a perfectly satisfactory excuse.

"Well you can't make popcorn yet! Lilly isn't here!" she reminded him.

"Pft. So?"

She heard rustling noises and turned to see him fishing around in the kitchen cabinets for a box of microwaveable popcorn—with absolutely no respect for her instructions.

"It'll be cold and stale by the time she gets here and we actually start the movie!" she went on in annoyance.

He withdrew, frowning. "Well, I want food."

"You are such a boy," she groaned in exasperation.

"Gosh, how nice of you to finally notice," Oliver retorted.

"I'm sorry, it's just hard to tell once you start ranting on about Storm and Erica and their 'passion for each other,'" Miley mocked him with a smirk.

Oliver gasped. "Oh that was so uncalled for," he declared, narrowing his eyes at her resentfully.

"You just don't want to admit the fact that I'm right!" Miley laughed smugly.

Choosing not to respond to that, Oliver turned his back and preoccupied himself with the contents of the refrigerator. The open door blocked her out nicely, and he stuck his head further inside as he looked for anything of interest, pretending Miley wasn't there at all.

She simply rolled her eyes and pointed out, "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" his voice came back nonchalantly.

"Ignoring me because you have no good comeback."

"Ooh, you guys have cherries?" Oliver burst out randomly. He resurfaced, brandishing a resealable plastic container in one hand, and shut the fridge door with a huge smile on his face.

"Yeah, my dad bought them the other day because apparently they're in season." Miley glanced at him suspiciously as he sat back down. "Since when do you get so enthusiastic over cherries anyways?"

"Oh...I don't know," Oliver shrugged, setting the container down on the coffee table in front of them and popping the top open.

She eyed him strangely, watching as he placed one of the bright red cherries in his mouth and began to make odd faces before ultimately spitting it back out.

"Eww!" Miley exclaimed; her nose wrinkled in disgust at the slobbery mess. "What the heck are you doing?"

"It's a kissing test," Oliver replied, his lips spreading into a huge grin as he examined the cherry in his hand. "And I definitely passed."

"You're trying to tell me that that thing has something to do with kissing?" she asked incredulously.

"Yep." Still grinning, he dangled it tauntingly near her face, causing her to shriek and scoot away from him.

"Gross, throw it out!"

"Fine," he shrugged, tossing it in a wastebasket nearby. "I don't really need it now that I know what an amazing kisser I am."

"Seriously, what are you talking about?" Miley demanded.

"You've really never heard of that kissing test with cherries before?"

She rolled her eyes. "Enlighten me."

"It's pretty simple. You put a cherry in your mouth and try to tie the stem in a knot using your tongue," he explained. "If you can, then you're a good kisser. And if you can't—well, then, you're not."

"So like... Frenching with a cherry." Her disgust had vanished and was instead replaced by a look of intrigue. "I wanna try!"

Oliver pushed the container towards her and she grabbed one excitedly. It only took her a few moments to spit it back out.

"I did it!" she squealed, waving it in front of him proudly.

"Erm…that's great, Miley, but I really don't want your saliva all over me," he said, nose wrinkled.

She didn't seem to be listening. "I bet I'm a better kisser than you!"

"We both passed. There's no 'better' about it."

"I bet I can do it faster than you," she amended.

Oliver scoffed. "I find that hard to believe when I'm the one who taught you."

Miley's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me? You did not teach me how to kiss!"

Oliver's cheeks began to burn. "I—I meant I taught you—about the kissing test...," he clarified, feeling a bit flustered.

"Oh. My mistake," Miley giggled. "But that still doesn't make you a better kisser than me."

"I told you, there's no better—"

"Here's how it works," she cut in. "Whoever can tie the stem in a knot fastest is the better kisser."

"That is not how it works. You're making up your own—"

"On go. Ready?"

"What? No!"

"On your mark."

Oliver frantically grabbed another cherry.

"Get set."

He poised it near his lips, mirroring her.

"Go!"

In the cherries went, and with them a sudden wave of determination washed over Oliver. He focused as hard as he could, completely set on proving himself to Miley.

"Done!" both burst out in unison, spitting the cherries out on the coffee table at the exact same time.

Miley examined them to make sure the knots were acceptable, and then stared at Oliver in shock. "We tied? How did we tie? I've dated way more people than you!"

Oliver gritted his teeth; he didn't exactly need or want a reminder of that fact.

"So suddenly how good you kiss has to do with how many people you've dated?"

"No, it has to do with how much experience you've had," Miley clarified. "Which means you must've had lots of practice making out with Becca and Joannie." She rolled her eyes, disgusted at the very thought.

"You think I made out with Joannie?" Oliver scoffed. "Oh yeah, that kiss on the cheek was so steamy." He rolled his eyes. "And Becca—please. I don't think that even qualified as a kiss."

"Then who? Sarah?" She shuddered at the thought.

"Saint Sarah? Are you kidding me?!"

"Well then who have you been making out with?" Miley demanded.

"Why do you care?"

"I... uh... I...," she began to stutter, the question clearly taking her by surprise.

Oliver crossed his arms and waited expectantly.

"I'm your best friend. I have a right to know."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, I don't necessarily agree with that—but I may as well tell you that I've..." He hesitated. "Well, I mean, um..."

"Yes?" she prompted him.

"I mean, um, I sort of…"

"Oh, come on!" Miley burst out impatiently.

Oliver took a deep breath and let it out all at once. "Ivenevermadeoutwithanyone!"

There was a moment of silence while Miley processed the jumbled up statement, and then suddenly she doubled over laughing.

"You—you've never—are you serious?!"

Oliver's mouth dropped open in offense. "I tell you something that secret and you laugh at me?"

Miley bit her lip to hide the amused smile she couldn't get rid of.

"Oliver, just because you know how to French with a cherry doesn't mean you know how to French with a girl."

He glared at her. "You just don't want to admit that I'm every bit as good as you are."

"No, you're not!" she insisted in annoyance.

"I proved it!"

"Oh, no. That"—she pointed at the mess on the coffee table—"doesn't prove anything."

"But you said—"

"It's a cherry!" she interrupted exasperatedly.

"Fine, so you want me to French with a girl, is that what you're saying?"

Miley snorted. "If that ever happens, then we can talk about your kissing skills. But only then."

"Okay, so let's settle this right now."

"Um…aren't you forgetting that we're the only ones here?" she smirked.

"No, what makes you think that?" Oliver asked, smiling innocently at her.

Miley's eyes grew huge as the implication sunk in. "Wait—what?!" she squealed.

Oliver's grin simply widened as he made a move towards her. "Don't worry, Miles, I won't bite."

That sent her heart racing out of control, and suddenly she couldn't seem to remember how to breathe properly anymore.

"But—but—but—," she gasped out, imitating the sound of a skipping CD as she struggled to come up with an acceptable excuse. "I thought you didn't want my saliva all over you."

He blushed madly. "Uh—what I meant was—not that way..."

"And we can't risk our friendship!" she added quickly.

Oliver placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Look, I promise to keep things strictly professional. Happy?"

Miley ventured an uneasy glance up into his eyes. It just seemed unbelievable how calm he was about this. As if such a thing could be professional. As if French kissing your best friend was a perfectly normal, everyday type of occurrence.

"Look, if you don't want to, there's always the easy way out," Oliver offered her gently.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "I'm listening."

"Just admit I'm a good kisser!" he laughed, knowing he totally had her now.

But instead of looking relieved as he'd been expecting, Miley set her jaw and declared a firm, "No."

Her refusal completely startled him. But even when he tried his best to hide it, his widened eyes did not go unnoticed by her. All at once something clicked in Miley's head.

"Wait a minute—you did that on purpose!"

He squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. "Did what?"

"Do not play stupid with me, Oliver Oken," Miley growled. "You knew I wouldn't kiss you—what you really wanted was for me to give in without a fight—"

"Uh, psh—whatever—I don't know what you're talking about," he insisted.

"Fine, then. Go ahead and kiss me." An evil grin spread across her face as she added, "Because I'm not scared."

"I'm not either!"

"Then what are you waiting for?" Miley taunted, beckoning him closer with one hand.

"Okay—um…just close your eyes," he instructed, a nervous edge to his voice.

Miley complied with an amused smile on her face. "Would it help if I pucker up too?" she giggled. When he didn't respond, she did so anyways, and then just sat there waiting expectantly for his lips to meet hers.

After what seemed like an eternity, they did—but only for about two seconds, if even.

Miley blinked in surprise. "That was—it?"

"Well, no…that was just, um, a test run," he replied, blushing slightly.

She immediately burst into giggles. "Oliver. Please don't tell me that that's the farthest you've ever gotten with a girl."

"Well..." His blush darkened, and that was all she needed to confirm her suspicions.

"It is, isn't it?"

"Yes," he admitted sheepishly, fearing she was about to erupt into another fit of laughter.

But to his surprise, Miley simply placed a hand on his shoulder and gazed at him sympathetically. "It's okay, you've just had sucky girlfriends," she said gently. "And you know what? They're gonna be sorry they missed out after you wow me with your mad kissing skills."

Oliver's eyebrows rose at the subtle flirtatiousness that had escaped into her tone. "Oh, are you admitting—"

"No!" she snapped quickly. "I was just trying to boost your ego a little..." Her voice trailed off and she let out an impatient huff. "Now would you just kiss me for real already?"

He smirked. "Somebody's anxious—"

"To get this over wi—"

Suddenly his lips came crashing down on hers, cutting her off mid-sentence. Instantly Miley was filled with exhilaration, and she eagerly hastened to kiss him back before he pulled away again.

But he had no intention of doing that this time.

Oliver kissed her long and gently, surprised at how enthusiastically she was responding and yet still hesitant about pushing things any further. Miley, who was desperately yearning for more, struggled to keep herself from taking control, knowing she needed to let him move at his own pace. After all, he was supposed to be proving himself to her, not vice versa.

Finally she felt a change as Oliver started to let himself go, his kisses growing more and more heated. He pushed her up against the sofa cushions, his hands roaming her back and hers getting tangled in his hair. When his tongue slid over her lips softly, pleading for permission to enter, she gave into him immediately.

Oliver had never experienced anything like it before in his life. She was incredible, the taste so—addicting—that he would never be able to get enough of her. His ability to form any coherent thoughts was long gone; all he knew was how good this felt, and that he never wanted to stop.

But eventually Miley did break the connection, gasping for air as she did so.

Oliver just sat there gazing at her in mesmerization for a few moments, before cutting into the silence hesitantly. "You—you don't know how long I've wanted to do that."

A small grin spread across Miley's face and her eyebrows rose. "I thought you said you would keep things strictly professional," she reminded him teasingly.

"Maybe...I lied."

"Well maybe...I don't mind," Miley giggled.

"So, then, was…was I all right?" Oliver asked, his voice faltering slightly as he nervously brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes.

Miley grinned slowly, placing her hands on his chest as she leaned in to press her lips up against his ear. "If I told you," she began to whisper, her voice all soft and alluring, "that you were the most amazing kisser to ever stick his tongue down my throat…"

Oliver started trembling as her hands began to move, feeling gently down his shirt.

"…would you do it again?" she murmured, pulling back to gaze imploringly into his eyes.

His lips pulled into a smirk. "Even if you said I was horrible, I'd do it again."

"Oooh, so you're saying you'd take me by force?" Miley teased, her eyes lit up with excitement.

His face was nothing short of shocked. "Wha—you mean you want me to?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Oliver," she said gently. "Can I give you just...one suggestion?" At his nod, she leaned back in, her breath tickling his ear. "Stop holding back."

"Stop...holding back?" Oliver repeated questioningly, his voice just above a whisper.

"Mmhmm..."

Suddenly Miley felt her heart speed up as he grabbed her by the waist and used himself to push her back, laying practically on top of her now. Her hands frantically grasped at his shirt, seemingly in an attempt to get it off of him.

"Wait—"

Miley groaned and let her head fall back against a pillow. "What?" she whined unhappily.

"Does this mean you'll be my girlfriend?"

Absolutely unbelievable.

"Naw, I was thinking we could just be friends with benefits," Miley replied sarcastically.

"Oh…" His face fell, and if Miley wasn't mistaken, he sounded a little disappointed as well.

"Why? Did you want me to be your girlfriend?" Her eyes twinkled up at his.

"Yes," he muttered. "Oh, God, yes."

"Are you kidding me? Of course I will, silly!" she squealed, squeezing him tightly.

Oliver's eyes lit up immediately. "Oh good. So I have an extra excuse to—"

"Take off your shirt?" Miley squeed, yanking it up again before he had a chance to finish.

"Not what I was gonna say. But—" With a laugh, he assisted her in pulling it over his head, then chucked it over the side of the couch. "Now. Where were we?"

Miley slid her hands up her chest and around his neck, pulling their bodies closer together. Her fingertips tingled uncontrollably at the contact with his bare skin. "Right...here...," she mumbled, connecting their lips once more.

"Mmph...I think I remember," Oliver mumbled back, before launching into another kiss—this time without holding back, just like she had asked.

He had one hand halfway up her shirt when her cell phone went off, vibrating and ringing from the inside of her pocket.

"You really should answer that," he whispered.

"No," Miley whined, planting another kiss on him in an effort to distract him.

She jumped a little as his other hand slid into the front pocket of her jeans unexpectedly. Slowly he pulled the mobile out and flipped it open, then pressed it up against her ear, forcing her to reluctantly detach her lips from his for the moment.

"Uh…hello?" she asked weakly.

"Miley!" Lilly's voice came back loudly. "Me and Jackson narrowed it down to two movies so I thought we should have you and Oliver choose!"

Her eyes widened. "You mean you're almost done there?"

"Yeah, and thank goodness, right? We've been here arguing for like half an hour! This is the last time I take Jackson to Blockbuster with me! And he's never even part of our movie nights so what does he care what we watch?"

"Uh, actually, Lilly, about movie night… I think I have to cancel—"

Lilly's voice interrupted her, this time sounding a bit more distant. "I didn't force you to drive me anywhere! And you know what else? You can be replaced!"

"Lilly! I have to cancel movie night!" Miley practically yelled into the mouthpiece.

"What?!" she cried out in dismay. "Why? I thought your dad was away at that thing and wouldn't be back home until tomorrow!"

The smirk that appeared on Oliver's face told Miley he'd overheard that comment—and God only knew what was going through his mind at the moment.

"Yeah, I know," Miley said into the phone, "but I just remembered that I have some…uh—"

A loud gasp escaped from her lips and cut off her sentence, as suddenly Oliver's lips were on her neck, running over her skin tenderly...kissing, sucking …

"Miley? You okay?" Lilly sounded concerned. "What's going on over there?"

Her eyes widened, then narrowed into slits at the boy on top of her. But he was a little too preoccupied to notice at the moment.

"What? No! I'm fine!" she burst into the phone. "Never been better!"

"Oh…okay…I thought I heard you gasp at something. And you stopped talking. So, why exactly are you cancelling movie night?"

"Um. I have to study!" Miley blurted out.

"And Oliver…?"

"Is helping me!"

Miley felt Oliver's breathing hot against her neck as he chuckled softly.

"Okay, well then…you guys wouldn't mind if just me and Jackson had our own little movie night at my house, would you?" Lilly asked tentatively.

"No, of course not!" A wave of relief washed over Miley. Now they'd be completely alone. No fear of any father or big brother interference happening.

"Oh. Okay!" Lilly exclaimed cheerfully. "Bye then!"

"Bye—" Miley heard the click before she even finished getting the word out.

"So, what are we studying?" Oliver grinned at her mischievously. "'Cause I have to say, I think your neck is my new favourite subject…"

She shot him another glare; one he actually saw this time.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" she demanded.

His grin widened. "Ooh, feisty Miley. Ollie likey." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Oliver!" she snapped. "I was on the phone! With Lilly!"

"Eh. I think she was distracted enough with Jackson," he replied uninterestedly.

"She did hang up pretty quickly…" Miley agreed, suspicion replacing the fire in her eyes.

"Forget about Lilly. I want to focus on you now," Oliver smirked at her.

"Ooh. Think you can do that from my room?" she smirked back.

"Why, getting tired already?" he teased.

"Oh, no. I don't plan on sleeping at all tonight," she replied, tracing the muscles on his chest with the tip of her finger.

"Then I guess I should start planning on how to make your insomnia a reality…"

"Sounds good to me," Miley grinned. She gave him a small shove and he moved so that she could get up. As soon as she was on her feet, she glanced down at him with a glint in her eye and declared, "Race you!" before taking off towards the stairs at a sprint.

"What, now I have to chase you too?" he called after her with a laugh.

She spun around. "Yep! I don't want to me this too easy." Grinning, she added, "Do you want me or not?"

"What kind of ridiculous question is that? Of course I want you." He sprung up from the couch and she resumed her sprint, his gaze landing on the cherries they'd left sitting on the coffee table.

Funny how this all started.

"Oliver!" Miley exclaimed anxiously. "Why aren't you over here yet?"

His eyes left the cherries and darted back to Miley, who was poised on the steps waiting for him, ready to take off again at a moment's notice.

"I was giving you a head start," he explained with a laugh. "Because you're gonna need it, Miley Stewart!"

She shrieked in pleasure as he made a mad dash towards her, chasing her up the stairs and into her room, where she finally crashed onto the bed.

Yes. Funny indeed.


A/N: I wrote the dedication for this fanfic before Theresa's birthday, which was August 3rd... I really meant to have it up by then, but circumstances prevented that. :( But I wanted to leave it just the way it was because I feel that it's special. I love you, Theresa! And I hope you liked this fanfic, despite the suckishness. :)