Snog II (Untitled Snog)

[Psyche]

Written for the '101 ways to snog en route to a colony' fanfiction and fanart challenge. Visit the homepage, read the rules, and then write your own!

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<b>Author:</b> Psyche (l2psyche00@aol.com)
<b>Word Count:</b> 613
<b>Pairing:</b> Heero/Relena
<b>Warnings:</b> None
<b>Title:</b> Untitled Snog

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The shuttle.

Large -- enough so that it could easily have carried twice the number currently aboard -- and impersonally luxurious. Making the long trip from L1 to L3 without stops, carrying harried executives, and people who make no objection to hours of stillness. Never creaking, or jerking, or rocking, or making even the slightest of unplanned movements. Every step of the way feeling perfectly smooth, and without risk.

~

The girl.

A slight, serious, golden-blonde creature, in a seat by the window that gives a spectacular view she steadfastly ignores. Her attention is, instead, with the unappetizing meal a flight attendant has placed on her lap, and neither the state of the girl nor the state of the meal appears likely to change very soon. One slim hand keeps the yellow plastic tray in place, while the other dangles at the end of an arm just failing to slide off an armrest. She breathes, softly.

After half an hour, the attendant returns and removes the tray, spilling some food onto the girl's lap as he does, for which he apologises in a practiced, friendly tone before moving on to the next passenger. The girl dabs at the mess with a napkin, and then takes out an empty notebook to replace the tray, and watches as the lines on the top page start to dance.

Across the walkway, somebody sleeps, snoring with the dullness that only life can achieve, and giving rhythm to the girl's daydreams. Once again, time passes.

~

The feeling of being watched by a friend.

It tickles along the side of her face, making her smile and want to laugh, and whispering thoughts in her ear. She tries not to look, not quite knowing why, but not wanting to lose this new game, and hopes without hoping that her watcher will soon give up.

Temptation grows, and she wriggles, then stands, slowly easing her legs into movement, and walks toward the washroom at the other end of the shuttle. An attempt to escape.

Footsteps thud-thud on the floor, and eyes blink-blink as they struggle to stare straight ahead, and attention wavers, resulting in a brush against an unseen body by the washroom door.

~

The boy.

All glossy brown hair and darkened blue eyes. Startled as she brushes against him, and almost reaching out to take her in his arms, but not doing so. He opens the door and stands hidden behind, not allowing another chance at a view of his face. She steps through and he closes it again, returning to his former position outside to wait.

She does nothing for what she had intended to be far longer than twenty seconds, and steps out again. Her face turns to his, and two mouths find little success in the suppression of heartfelt smiles, and lips touch.

They stand, for a while, he pressed against the wall, she pressing; tongues touching, tasting, teasing; hands gripping at flesh; cheeks flushed and hot.

A few passengers almost stare, but mostly, the couple go unnoticed. Boredom occupies people's minds and makes them uninterested in the outside world. An announcement sounds: the shuttle is now landing, and thank-you for choosing to fly with us, and please, remember to visit the shop on your way out.

~

Parting.

The shuttle touches the ground, as if it had never left, and the girl pulls away from the boy. His fingers trail down her cheek, and seem to suggest that perhaps, the trip can continue a little longer. She shakes her head.

"I have work," she says, mind full with the sensation of contact. "See you soon." A wish upon a burnt out star.

He nods, and watches as she walks away.

Fin.

[silversong]

Why, thank you ever so much!

Now I want to write one, and I don't have time. (wails)

(ponders the writing of one anyways)

~ Silversong