One Shot

Author’s Note: I don’t know where this came from, but enjoy it a little, yeah? Leave a review, please!

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He never loved the way she laughed. It was too loud, too nasally, too in your face, too "Oh-my-gosh! That-was-so-funny!" sort of thing.

He smiled at her in a despairing way, and she grinned at him. He noticed for the first time that her mouth was only a bit too small for her face, her eyes too big, and far too green to be normal.

She grabbed his hand and held on tightly, winding her fingers nimbly through his and smiling down at their hands, not noticing his troubled look as he hiked his book bag farther up his shoulder.

She pulled him down the corridor jammed packed with students who didn't care that they were in the way, or that people were cursing with frustration as there was no movement down the hall. He nearly lost her in the crowd, his mind so preoccupied in thinking of her.

"C'mon!" She was saying to him, and he snapped back into his main state of mind and winded through the crowd, following her bright brown shock of hair in the midst of all of the tall, blonde people.

He wrinkled his brow, wondering about her. She was just a little bit too weird to belong with them, a little too out of the norm. She chatted gaily with her friend at her locker, lounging against it casually. He caught up with her, searching hungrily to find her once again. He had to examine her, and not just by hand or eye alone. He hugged her from the side, feeling her small body come around and press against his as if trying to find her home.

He didn't like the fact he got possessive around her, nor did he enjoy the fact that she reveled in the protection he gave her. She looked like a little rebellious child, ready to go out into the world but perfectly content to stay in mother's arms just a little bit longer.

"Oy!" Someone jumped him with a gleeful shout, and they were both slammed into the side of the locker. She let out a little yelp, and he suppressed a groan of resentment and fear.

"You okay?" He said, noticing the feel of her in his arms shaking just a little, she nodded and burst out in her laughter. He winced in the back of his mind, and he let her go for just a moment.

"What was that for?" He said angrily, looking at the group of friends crowding about him, but more importantly the boy who jumped him in the first place.

"Didn't realize she was with you," He said, shrugging his boyish frame, looking at him straight in the eye.

He felt her fingers wrapping into his and squeezing. "It's okay," she said, trying to soothe, "we're both fine."

He hated that, too. She tried to help him and soothe even at the smallest disturbance in his life, whether it was getting a 'B' on that Chemistry test he had studied hard on, or getting over his first friend he met there moving away. She soothed him from both of those burdens (and many more, besides) with gleeful remarks, jovial jokes, and laughter. She would hug him tightly about the chest and hold on tightly, even when he wished that he didn't have to feel her pressed against him and just wanted to be alone.

"Still, he almost hurt you," He said, trying to get back his pride and sensibility.

"So? Everyone tries to hurt me at one phase or another, it's not bothered me then and it won't bother me now."

He sighed grudgingly, realizing she was right. He turned toward her, looking down and smiling defiantly and she looked back at him, almost hopefully. "Hafta go to your locker?" She nodded, and with a quick good-bye to the stander bys, she pulled him toward it, talking animatedly. He was hardly paying any attention to her, and he felt only the smallest twinge of guilt for it.

She never was mad at him, at least, hardly ever. She stabbed him in the back with a highlighter when they were in freshman year for making fun of her friend. He regretted that, but that was before he really cared about her. He was holding her books suddenly as she chatted to him and herself, emptying out her book bag and shoving a few things in for the weekend.

"Hey," he said softly, and she looked at him, her amazing hearing catching his breath of a word in less than a heartbeat, "want to go somewhere this weekend?"

"Zoom in on the distance between your house and mine," she said wryly, closing her locker and flipping open her cell phone, absently turning it on. He growled to himself, finding another item to add onto his hate list. He grabbed her arm gently and pulled her down the slowly emptying senior hall. "Where are we going?" She said curiously, searching about as the floor plan seemed to empty itself out before her, waiting innocently so she could see.

"Somewhere,"

She wrapped her hand in his, her warm fingers touching his almost coyly, seemingly afraid of what happen. They stopped after a few yards, and she looked at the door almost dumbstruck.

"A broom closet. Wow," she said sarcastically.

He sighed dreamily, adding another vice. Sarcastic. Always. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"Is it unlocked?" she asked, cutting to the chase.

"I struck a small bargain with the janitor. When's your bus leave?" She checked her cell phone, and frowned. "Three minutes,"

"Tell your dad that I'll give you a ride,"

"But isn't it awfully out of your way?" She said her brow furrowing.

"Hardly," he said dryly. "I, uh, have to go to Concord for something anyway, it'll be easy just to drop you off and go off to do my errand."

She nodded, not bothering to ask what the errand was.

Another vice. They sure were racking up.

"Hey, Dad!" She said knocking him out of his oblivious thoughts. He laughed at her silently, seeing her stick out her bottom lip and pull out the pouty daughter act from her sleeve. "I missed my bus…" he heard her father talking for a few moments, a perturbed accent coming through the speaker, "No, no! You don't have to get me!" She interrupted, "He's going to drop me off… you know who, Dad… yes, HIM. I promise we won't do anything bad... Okay, thanks! Bye!" She snapped her phone shut after pressing the power off button and smiled up at him, ready for anything.

"We have until 3:45," he said, opened the door and reaching up pulling down on the light fixture until the light came on. "After you, Miss."

She stepped in and dropped her book bag against a wall, looking back at him as he shut the door behind them.

She stood back coyly as he came toward her, and with a muffled groan her mouth collided onto his. Her back hit the wall, and her legs wrapped around his waist involuntarily. One hand was on the side of his neck, the other traveled down his chest lazily, hungrily.

She kissed forcefully, her hands around his head and pressing him toward her. He vaguely thought of that kiss in the rain during that really sad chick flick an old friend had made him watch, The Notebook.

She groaned into his mouth, feeling his hands swarming up around her body, one keeping her firmly against him, his hand pressing against the small of her back and the beginning of the swell of the bottom.

His mind was beginning to flee his subconscious as his vision clouded over from the heat, feeling her pant against him, yearning, seeking. He mentally tore apart his list of vices, because they didn't really matter. He felt better whenever he was with her, no matter their situation or how he had been feeling earlier that day.

"I love you," she murmured against his lips, breathless and needy.

No matter how much he hated some of her vices and flaws, he loved her anyway. He loved her madly, deeply, and would forever.