The first time they kiss, it’s awkward, a simple press that she tries to move forward until he completely resists, pushing her away. That’s when she decides that sane, logical human relations aren’t for her. It’s better if things are like stories, better if everything goes perfectly smoothly. There’s not a shameful bone in her body, and she isn’t embarrassed, but she certainly isn’t happy. After all, he’s her favorite.
The second time they kiss, he pushes her away after a few moments, though they do stay tangled up afterward a little longer than the first time. Still, she’s impolitely asked to leave the bunk she’d decided they’d share, and though she agrees, she feels a measure of annoyance at the entire situation. For a full month after, she contents herself with sleeping in the captain’s chair.
The third time, things seem to go both ways. This time, he tries to give as good as he gets, and she’s happy enough that his lips move and his hand comes to rest at the small of her back. She practically purrs. It’s cut short by an unrelated cough, and she’s out of his arms faster than their unwelcome guest can blink. She makes note to never try to get near him in the galley again. Not like that, anyway.
The fourth time, he starts things, and even though she knows it’s just because he’s about to jet out of the airlock and possibly never come back, she’s satisfied. Because she’s the last thing he’s thinking of and maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want any regrets. But then, what regrets were there to have? She has every concept of loyalty but little concept of romantic affection. The fourth time is brief, and the fifth follows shortly thereafter, a bold reply from her before she hands him his helmet.
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ninetydegrees
jai x juliana | halo
29/4/13 15:12 (UTC)The second time they kiss, he pushes her away after a few moments, though they do stay tangled up afterward a little longer than the first time. Still, she’s impolitely asked to leave the bunk she’d decided they’d share, and though she agrees, she feels a measure of annoyance at the entire situation. For a full month after, she contents herself with sleeping in the captain’s chair.
The third time, things seem to go both ways. This time, he tries to give as good as he gets, and she’s happy enough that his lips move and his hand comes to rest at the small of her back. She practically purrs. It’s cut short by an unrelated cough, and she’s out of his arms faster than their unwelcome guest can blink. She makes note to never try to get near him in the galley again. Not like that, anyway.
The fourth time, he starts things, and even though she knows it’s just because he’s about to jet out of the airlock and possibly never come back, she’s satisfied. Because she’s the last thing he’s thinking of and maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want any regrets. But then, what regrets were there to have? She has every concept of loyalty but little concept of romantic affection. The fourth time is brief, and the fifth follows shortly thereafter, a bold reply from her before she hands him his helmet.
It’s when he comes back that she loses count.