Re: In-person: Sam & Cris
[Maybe it's stupid, yeah? Her not saying he's too drunk to go. But she thinks about Neil when she thinks of drunk. She doesn't think of this, him standing and tugging up on elastic waistband, hand closing over hers on medallion, and she doesn't even see that coming. So, yeah, no, she doesn't think to tell him he's too wasted, and that's stupid, but she doesn't know better. Instead, she watches him squeeze eyes shut in the darkness, him saying he loves her and her trying to find the words. This once, yeah? To say them this once, because it's important. Like he's going off to war or something, and he kind of is. If Elliot is anything like Ian, and she shudders.
But she kisses him back just as hard, chasing his mouth until she's breathless from not breathing. Standing on the toes of those old Docs, and chest mashed up against him, and she doesn't like that his cheeks are damp.
He hitches up her jeans, noses her hair, and she stops him when he turns. It's not the swat to ass, yeah? That's not what makes her reach for his arm. It's the damp on his cheeks, and she brushes it away with scratchy thumbs, and then she drags her fingertips over his shirt, over his chest. She draws a heart there, yeah? Pressure-hard fingers, and then she steps back, lingers for just one fucking second longer, and then runs up the stairs.]