Fanfic: Sharing [Teen Wolf]
Jan. 7th, 2012 07:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
argentum_lsFic written as a ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fandom_stocking stocking stuffer:
For:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
boombangbing
Title: Sharing
Word Count: 900
Notes: Allison/Scott, fluff, unbetaed
Allison let out a deep sigh and dropped her chin onto the brace of her folded hands. She was lying stomach down on the floor of her room, history textbook opened in front of her. Scott was lying in a matching position, his book touching hers so that they were face-to-face save for the boundary of pages between them.
“You OK?” he asked, looking up from his book.
“Mmm,” she replied. “I’m just bored with this kind of history.”
“This kind of history?” he repeated, brow furrowing.
She indicated her book with a tick of her eyes. “You know, the stuff that happened to other people. People I’m never going to know or want to spend time with?” On the last, she smiled toward her boyfriend. Scott’s color rose and he pressed his lips together, looking guilty, like he had been caught.
Allison stacked the books up and pushed them out of the way, then scooted closer to Scott, closing the gap between them, until only a couple inches separated their faces. The movement pulled her shirt taut against her chest, outlining her breasts. Scott swallowed, his gaze drifting down her neck as if being compelled. He caught himself and yanked his eyes back up to hers.
“I like spending time with you,” she said. She was close enough now to feel the warm gusts of his breath, to see the play of tiny muscles around his mouth as he tried to figure out what to say, if he was supposed to say anything. “I want…” She tapped a finger on her chin, widened her eyes in a mock moment of realization. “I want you to tell me something about yourself.”
Scott frowned. “You know all my secrets,” he replied, the comment dark like he still hadn’t figured out how he felt about that.
“Not a secret,” she responded with a slight shake of her head that made curls of her long hair fall around her face. “Just something you’ve never told me before.”
Reaching across the gap, Scott tucked one of the curls back behind her ear. She tilted her head into the graze of his touch, let her eyes drift closed for a moment.
“Like what?” he asked.
“Like …” She stuck her lower lip out while she pondered. “Like, when did you find out the truth about Santa?”
Scott huffed out a laugh. He flipped over on his back so that he was looking up at her face from underneath. He still made no effort to answer.
“Come on. It’s not a hard question. I was six. I found this doll I’d been begging for in the closet. The box it came in was barely peeking out of the store’s bag, but I knew exactly what it was. When Santa gave me that doll on Christmas, I figured it all out. But I didn’t tell my parents for two more years….” She trailed off at the expression on Scott’s face, one of bewilderment and chagrin rolled together. “What?” she asked.
He gave a slight shake of his head. “My mom sat me down when I was ten,” he answered. “Told me everything. I’d heard her and Dad fighting … I don’t remember what about. But he slipped and yelled at her for coddling me, told her that it was embarrassing that I was acting like a child.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied, voice soft. Unable to stop herself, she reached over and smoothed a finger down his eyebrow, a touch of reassurance. She trailed her fingers along the edge of his face, down over his chin, pausing when she found the mole.
“It’s not that. It’s just …” He drew a deep breath and let it out, raised a hand to touch the one she still held to his face. “If I can exist? Werewolves, I mean?” He left the last questions hanging in the air, their implication obvious.
She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “So, you haven’t told me all your secrets,” she said, gently, voicing the conclusion he hadn’t wanted to risk spelling out. “You still believe in Santa.”
He glanced away, face screwed up as if in debate with himself. For a long moment he watched the curtains framing her open window sway in the breeze that snuck in. “Yeah. I guess I do,” he said at last. “Are you OK with that?”
She grinned, wide and toothy, her chin ducking slightly. “I think it’s adorable,” she said without hesitation. She leaned over him and found his lips with hers. Even upside down, their lips fit together, his mouth soft and eager under hers.
His hands wrapped around the back of her head and pulled her closer. She sucked at his upper lip, slipped her tongue just inside his mouth and found his waiting. The touch was warm and increasingly eager. “I like this kind of studying,” he commented when they broke apart to catch a breath. He ran a tongue over his lips, retasting her. “Is there anything else you want to know?”
Eyes opening into the best guileless expression she could muster, she pretended to think about the question. “If you keep kissing me like that,” she replied, “I’ll never run out of questions.”
He rolled on his side, pulling her over too so they were once again face-to-face in a much more navigable position. “Then I’ll never run out of answers.”
fandom_stocking stocking stuffer:For:
boombangbingTitle: Sharing
Word Count: 900
Notes: Allison/Scott, fluff, unbetaed
Allison let out a deep sigh and dropped her chin onto the brace of her folded hands. She was lying stomach down on the floor of her room, history textbook opened in front of her. Scott was lying in a matching position, his book touching hers so that they were face-to-face save for the boundary of pages between them.
“You OK?” he asked, looking up from his book.
“Mmm,” she replied. “I’m just bored with this kind of history.”
“This kind of history?” he repeated, brow furrowing.
She indicated her book with a tick of her eyes. “You know, the stuff that happened to other people. People I’m never going to know or want to spend time with?” On the last, she smiled toward her boyfriend. Scott’s color rose and he pressed his lips together, looking guilty, like he had been caught.
Allison stacked the books up and pushed them out of the way, then scooted closer to Scott, closing the gap between them, until only a couple inches separated their faces. The movement pulled her shirt taut against her chest, outlining her breasts. Scott swallowed, his gaze drifting down her neck as if being compelled. He caught himself and yanked his eyes back up to hers.
“I like spending time with you,” she said. She was close enough now to feel the warm gusts of his breath, to see the play of tiny muscles around his mouth as he tried to figure out what to say, if he was supposed to say anything. “I want…” She tapped a finger on her chin, widened her eyes in a mock moment of realization. “I want you to tell me something about yourself.”
Scott frowned. “You know all my secrets,” he replied, the comment dark like he still hadn’t figured out how he felt about that.
“Not a secret,” she responded with a slight shake of her head that made curls of her long hair fall around her face. “Just something you’ve never told me before.”
Reaching across the gap, Scott tucked one of the curls back behind her ear. She tilted her head into the graze of his touch, let her eyes drift closed for a moment.
“Like what?” he asked.
“Like …” She stuck her lower lip out while she pondered. “Like, when did you find out the truth about Santa?”
Scott huffed out a laugh. He flipped over on his back so that he was looking up at her face from underneath. He still made no effort to answer.
“Come on. It’s not a hard question. I was six. I found this doll I’d been begging for in the closet. The box it came in was barely peeking out of the store’s bag, but I knew exactly what it was. When Santa gave me that doll on Christmas, I figured it all out. But I didn’t tell my parents for two more years….” She trailed off at the expression on Scott’s face, one of bewilderment and chagrin rolled together. “What?” she asked.
He gave a slight shake of his head. “My mom sat me down when I was ten,” he answered. “Told me everything. I’d heard her and Dad fighting … I don’t remember what about. But he slipped and yelled at her for coddling me, told her that it was embarrassing that I was acting like a child.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied, voice soft. Unable to stop herself, she reached over and smoothed a finger down his eyebrow, a touch of reassurance. She trailed her fingers along the edge of his face, down over his chin, pausing when she found the mole.
“It’s not that. It’s just …” He drew a deep breath and let it out, raised a hand to touch the one she still held to his face. “If I can exist? Werewolves, I mean?” He left the last questions hanging in the air, their implication obvious.
She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “So, you haven’t told me all your secrets,” she said, gently, voicing the conclusion he hadn’t wanted to risk spelling out. “You still believe in Santa.”
He glanced away, face screwed up as if in debate with himself. For a long moment he watched the curtains framing her open window sway in the breeze that snuck in. “Yeah. I guess I do,” he said at last. “Are you OK with that?”
She grinned, wide and toothy, her chin ducking slightly. “I think it’s adorable,” she said without hesitation. She leaned over him and found his lips with hers. Even upside down, their lips fit together, his mouth soft and eager under hers.
His hands wrapped around the back of her head and pulled her closer. She sucked at his upper lip, slipped her tongue just inside his mouth and found his waiting. The touch was warm and increasingly eager. “I like this kind of studying,” he commented when they broke apart to catch a breath. He ran a tongue over his lips, retasting her. “Is there anything else you want to know?”
Eyes opening into the best guileless expression she could muster, she pretended to think about the question. “If you keep kissing me like that,” she replied, “I’ll never run out of questions.”
He rolled on his side, pulling her over too so they were once again face-to-face in a much more navigable position. “Then I’ll never run out of answers.”
