meme } { kissy faces

[iluvroadrunner6]

Request Plurk

Word Count:
30,094

Comments

stiles/cora | spamalot | 553 words

[impetere]

It happens one night while she’s in Boston.

She never catches why he’s in town, but she’s going in to the local pub to pick up food for dinner because she is too lazy to cook, and all of the sudden there he is, bundled up in so many layers it automatically gives him away as being from the West Coast, used to sunshine and warmth – things that aren’t really present in the northeast.

The feeling at seeing him starts as panic, worried about if he’ll continue to flee from her like she has the plague, but when he sees her, he smiles and it’s probably the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. She can’t even remember the last time he smiled at her like that, but he’s smiling at her now, and that is enough to convince her to have her dinner in the pub instead of taking it back up to her apartment. Anything just to sit with him and talk with him for a while, as though nothing has really changed.

(She knows it’s not true. She knows everything’s changed. Every word he says is exactly what she wants to hear – it’s how she knows in some ways it’s not real. But she lets it happen because it’s what she wants, more than anything in the world.)

They finish dinner and he walks her up to her apartment, lingering quietly at the door as she fishes out her keys, and once the door is unlocked, she turns back to him with a small smile.

“This was nice.”

“Yeah, it was.” Stiles’ familiar rasp is almost like music to her ears and she doesn’t want to walk away, not yet, but she knows she has to. “Maybe we should do it again sometime before we leave.”

“Yeah,” she says with a nod. “Maybe we should.” There’s another brief, lingering pause, before she takes a deep breath and turns back towards the door. “Anyway. I should probably let you go … ”

“Cora.” His hand comes up and catches her wrist gently, just long enough to get her attention, and she turns back to face him again, confused, but he doesn’t give her time to question it. The second her eyes meet his, he is leaning in to kiss her, one big warm hand coming up to cup against the side of her face as he does and she just sags into him on instinct, wanting to sink into that kiss and never come up for air. It’s perfect (too perfect) and she doesn’t want the moment to end.

The kiss continues, until she takes the initiative to start to pull him into her apartment. The door gets kicked closed, layers of clothing get dropped to the floor in a trail to her bedroom, and soon there is nothing but heat and skin, all of it familiar and all of it exactly how she remembers it. His lips find that spot on her neck and she arches into him, closing her eyes and letting the familiar sensations roll over her.

“I love you, Cora.”

Then she wakes up. Her bed is empty and cold, her heart breaks and she’s never felt more alone.

You know what they say, about things being too good to be true. Usually means that they usually are.