Work Text:
Baby, It’s Cold Outside
A one-shot by optimisticpizza
“I really can’t stay.”
My gaze instantly shoots up from my dinner plate. The scraping of the chair’s legs against the tile floor resonates throughout the large, open space as she pushes her chair backwards and rises abruptly. Carrying over to me from across the table, the distinct sound of a heavy sigh sets off warning signals in my head. With a mouth too dry for speech, I remain seated with my hands in my lap, staring up at her in curiosity.
She moves to the right of the chair and pushes it back up to the table. The eerie screeching pierces my ears in an unkind fashion. “I’ve got to go,” she continues, her voice apologetic. Long brown locks drape themselves over one shoulder and into my girlfriend’s face as she bends over slightly, so with the sweep of a hand, she pushes them back into place. Unhooking her purse from the top of the chair, the girl moves over to her me. By now, I had gathered enough strength to slowly stand. “Thanks for tonight.”
“Um… I was kinda hoping you’d stay,” I finally manage, rubbing the back of my neck with my hand. It’s a nervous tick that I’ve developed; one that I’m not too proud of, because she can pick up on it so easily. “You know; traffic might be a little tight.”
“It’s been nice,” she tells me in a small, timid voice, completely ignoring my comments.
For a moment I lose myself in her glacier-colored eyes, searching them, analyzing them, finding in them a slight tint of regret. Taking her hands with a firm grasp, I confront my teammate and whisper the first thing I can think of. “Your hands are just like ice.”
She drops her head, breaking my gaze. Solemnly she looks down at her feet like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar. “My flight leaves pretty early.”
“Beautiful, what’s your hurry?” I ask abruptly. The noun of direct address does not roll off my tongue as easily as I would like it to, by any means. It’s something I’ve been waiting to call her for years, now, but have never had such an occasion. Even now, with our relationship slowly being defined, I almost have to force myself to use it, just out of respect to her desired pace.
I know that I’ve caught her off-guard because she blushes at the term of endearment, and I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not. Shaking her head in exasperation, my friend goes on, “You know my parents will be anxious for me to get back.”
I reclaim my left hand and make a sweeping gesture towards the living room. “Listen to that fireplace crack…” I suggest. The excuse sounds rushed, makes me sound like a kid who knows she’s in danger of losing her favorite toy very soon.
“So maybe I’d better scurry,” she states quietly.
“Please, don’t hurry,” I reiterate, finding the forward’s freezing hand again. Tenderly, I take both in between my own and hold them tightly, attempting to transfer whatever heat that resides in my hands into hers.
She looks up to meet my pleading eyes. Her cheeks flush with color, and I know right then and there that I’ve got her. She folds. “Well… maybe just a half a drink more.”
Promptly, my face lights up with elation, and I can feel a smile broadening upon it by the second. Turning to the counter, I slide an object toward myself using my pinky and gingerly hand it to her. “Here’s my iPod; I’ll pour.”
After the striker selects a gentle song from my playlist and turns the volume up to a reasonable level, she purses her lips. “Your neighbors might think…” she voices out loud, but I cut her off by handing her a glass.
I ignore her. Instead, I glance out the window, squinting. “Baby, it’s bad out there,” I state plainly, taking a sip of my own concoction.
A coughing fit erupts inside her, and her face scrunches in displeasure at what I assume to be the strong tasting liquid. “Hey, what’s in this drink?”
“No cabs to be had out there,” I say, dismissing her comment with a slight wave.
“I really ought to…” she began.
In order to interrupt her, I place my finger on her lips, effectively quieting the striker. Smoothly I push my girl’s hair out of her face. “Your eyes are so blue.”
“…just go,” she finishes softly.
“Yeah, I know,” I concur. Feeling somewhat dejected, I turn my head and busy myself by staring at the refrigerator.
She pauses, again looking down at the tile. “I want to say no. But then…” she says, setting down her glass.
I place my own back onto the counter, too, and take her hand, leading her to the couch. “Mind if I scoot in?” I ask cautiously, easing in to where our thighs are just a hand’s width away.
She leans herself against me, sighing contentedly. “You’re just so warm…”
I blush slightly at the compliment, but thankfully her eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see me. I wrap a reassuring arm around her. “Look out the window at that storm.”
“Kelley will be suspicious,” the forward points out, referring to my roommate who would be coming in at any point.
“Gosh, your lips look delicious,” I mumble from out of nowhere.
She tenses up, presumably alarmed that her comment went totally unheard. A quizzical look is about her as she picks her head up and leaned towards me. “Allie will be waiting for me at my door…”
A sparkle plays its way into my eyes as an idea develops. For just a brief moment, I know that she sees it in them. Then, they close, and I lean in. Slowly but surely, I plant the smallest, most tender of kisses upon her.
“Gosh, your lips are delicious.”
She stares for a few seconds, unsure. I can see even through my closed eyelids that she doesn’t know what to think, much less what to do. Patient as always, I sit and wait for her to make her move. Moments later, she bolts up out of her seat, withdrawing from me. “No. I’ve got to get home.”
I finally opened my eyes and stare blankly at the her. She’s dressed quite unsuitably for the weather. “Baby, you’ll freeze out there,” I insist.
“Can’t I just borrow your coat?” she pleads softly.
“It’s up to your knees out there,” I protest.
She sighs heavily in dismay. “You’ve really been great.”
“I think you should wait.”
“But don’t you see?”
“Please don’t do this to me,” I moan aloud. Exasperated, I crash back into the couch, laying across it lengthwise. We’re still in some crazy sort of power-battle, and I have no clue who’s winning.
“There's bound to be talk tomorrow,” my companion says slowly, knowing that neither of our roommates would be able to keep their curiosity to themselves.
“Think of my life-long sorrow…” I throw the back of my hand against my forehead for added dramatic effect.
“At least there will be plenty implied.”
“…If you caught pneumonia and died.” I whisper the last part. A pleading look is written on my face as I pat the space next to me, rolling the dice.
“I really can't stay…” she uttered. Then, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes as I watched her, albeit reluctantly, plop down. Slowly she snuggles up to me, lining up against all my curves until we are touching at every point possible.
“Baby, it’s cold,” I murmur. I protectively run a hand through the hair of the young forward cuddled delicately into me. “Baby, it’s cold outside.”
A/N: Merry Christmas! :)