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 | you've reached kimberly — you really should have texted me. who leaves a voicemail anymore? |
| kimberly hart. |
| you've reached kimberly — you really should have texted me. who leaves a voicemail anymore? |
| kimberly hart. |
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He can do it again. He lets the music he's been playing in the background, the smooth melodies of Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell soothing him all the way to his soul. ]
I forget my manners. Can I take your jacket? [ He offers an arm for her to drape it over, taking his own blazer off and setting it on the back of a chair - he feels overdressed now, and he should have known. This is supposed to be casual, and he's made too much of a spectacle of it. He scratches the back of his head, chuckling sheepishly. ]
Just need to fry the chicken, and we'll be ready to go.
[ As they stand in his kitchen, though, Baby reaches out - literally, this time - and curls a gentle hand around her upper arm. ]
You okay?
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his hand on her arm helps, too. it pulls her in, closes the distance between them until her arms wrap around his waist, insecurities and nervousness drowned in a lift onto her tiptoes, a brush of her lips against the corner of his mouth, an affectionate gesture that's just this side of chaste. ) Yeah, ( breathed out in reassurance, punctuated by another kiss, this one properly aimed. ) Better now.
Show me how you do this, chef.
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Okay, so the trick with the chicken is all in the batter. Joe - my foster dad - taught me how to make it. There's a secret ingredient to his recipe, but obviously, I can't tell you what it is, I'd have to kill you.
[ He gives her a look wit a half-smile, his eyebrows raised up high. With tongs, he places four pieces of chicken in the deep-fryer, keeping an eye on them as the oil sizzles loudly around them. ]
You want them brown but not too brown. Then it's to the oven for them to finish cooking. [ Leaning against the counter, he turns to Kimberly. ]
You cook? And - you sure you don't want something to drink? I've got wine, or Coke?
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Don't kill me, I can't even make toast. ( she holds those hands up, palms facing him, in mock surrender; she's admittedly interested, but really only because he's enthusiastic about showing her. 'brown but not too brown' is about as helpful as gibberish to kimberly. ) But it does smell good, so I'll trust Joe on this one.
( to his question on a drink, kimberly just smiles again, shaking her head a little more softly this time. )
I'm okay, really. I can wait until we eat.
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[ He smiles again, his voice soft when he speaks again. ]
I've had to learn how to cook better lately, because our apartment was tiny and Joe couldn't fit his wheelchair in the kitchen. Not that he made it hard for me, he's easily pleased.
[ The music has moved on to Otis Redding now, the Motown playlist going on in the background like it doesn't care if they're here to listen to it or not. Baby pokes at the chicken. Another minute. ]
Technically, chicken and waffles is breakfast food, but I can always... make some more in the morning.
[ Smooth. S M O O T H. He should put some Sade on, because he is one smooth operator. ]
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did she hear that correctly? she's pretty certain she did. well then. for all kimberly hart is well acquainted with the concept of the post-dinner sleepover (or even the no dinner sleepover), the suggestion of staying the night is the absolute last thing she expected to hear fall from his lips.
don't mind her while she blinks for a moment, metaphorically picking her dropped jaw off the floor. there might be a swipe of tongue darting out to moisten her bottom lip, and there might be the smallest hint of delighted mischief in her eyes as she peers up at him. )
In the morning, huh? ( she can't tease him too much. she doesn't want him to feel rejected, when that's so clearly not the case. ) You know, I thought I was going to be the one corrupting you...
What'd you have in mind after dinner, baby?
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He knows she finds him attractive, she showed that when they went driving. He knows she wanted to see him again. He knows he likes her, and wants her, and. Fuck it, they're both young and free and a little wild. So why not?
Pulling the plate covered with paper towels closer, Baby takes the chicken out of the fryer, draining the oil from the crispy pieces before getting them in the oven for a little while longer. Only then does he turns back to Kimberly, a hand curling around her waist, pulling her a tiny bit closer. ]
What made you think I needed corrupting? [ Oh, if only she knew all the terrible things he'd done. She probably would lose interest rapidly. ] I was thinking a glass of wine, a piece of pie, maybe some dancing by the candlelight. Maybe resume where we left of the other day?
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he's, perhaps, opened the floodgates a little, but kimberly's not complaining. instead, she only smiles a little wider, a little more mischieviously, and arches onto her tiptoes again, murmuring, ) Skip the pie. ( she's not really a pie person anyway, if she's totally honest, and wine has never been her favorite thing. it's an acquired taste, and she hasn't had much opportunity to acquire it. she is only eighteen, after all. )
Oh, and set a timer, yeah?
( because if he doesn't... well, burning dinner isn't exactly a good date experience. )
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He's all too easy to skip words and just lean in for a kiss, this time letting it get deeper, eyes closing when his tongue swiping at her bottom lip. He drags a hand up her back to rest under her jaw, tucked against her neck, his thumb moving back and forth softly against her cheek as he kisses Kimberly. He doesn't want to pull away, but is happy keeping the pace sort of slow, letting the music guide his movements as his free hand fists up into the material of her dress, pulling it up slightly as he does. ]
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he's a much better kisser than she'd expected him to be. not that she'd expected him to be bad, but... less experienced than the evening has proven him to be. she's surprised, but hardly disappointed; her approval, rather, is evident in the way her body leans flush into his, the fond curve of her smile as she lets her head tilt, practically melting into his touch.
as they part, air still an unfortunate necessity, kimberly lets out a soft, slow exhale, measured and careful, and blinks up at him, thick lashes fluttering up and down. she should say something, anything, but it's all she can do to keep the smile on her face from blooming into a wide, nearly delirious grin. )
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And maybe Baby will, at some point. But right now, he's having a delicious time, the kitchen starting to fill up with the smells of the fried chicken and its special secret ingredient, mixing with the spiciness of the bourbon-maple sauce and the waffles he's prepared just a bit earlier. All of it combined with the taste of Kimberly's lips is all too good for him to want to disrupt it in any way.
It feels like only a second and an eternity at the same time, when his phone beeps with his timer, and Baby licks his lips, brushing hair off the side of Kimberly's face. ]
You hungry?
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his fingertips tuck a lock of hair behind her ear as he asks her about dinner, and she has to shake off the hazy warmth that's settled in her bones in order to manage an answer. ) Yeah, I'm... ( hungry, yes, but in more ways than one. aware might be a better word for it. ) It smells great, Baby, really.
( a pause, as he extricates himself from their embrace in order to attend to what's in the oven; kimberly takes it as an opportunity to settle herself at the table, admiring the care that's been taken to accentuate the space. the candles, the flowers, even just the place settings so carefully arranged — it feels a little bit like something out of a movie. not something that happens. )
But you didn't have to go all out like this, you know.
( not that she doesn't appreciate it, because she does, but there's still a part of kimberly that doesn't really believe she's worth all of this fuss. her experience with dating hasn't exactly been the best, after all. )
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Yes, it's cheesy; even he realizes that, and he knows that it's a bit over the top, but he's a romantic, that grew up being told of love through music more than through people, and he wants to sweep Kimberly off of her feet. That's how he does things; all or nothing. ]
Maybe I wanted to, [ He replies from the counter, his back to Kimberly, getting the plates together. Waffles, chicken, a heaping of sauce to top it all, before he brings the plates over, going back to put the extra sauce and butter on the table by their sides. He smiles as he sits down across from Kimberly. ]
Because I wanted to. And also Joe would disown me if I didn't put some effort in.
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This is... ( a hum of appreciation, and another bite, before she sets her cutlery down; her now free hand reaches over to drape over one of his, fingertips curling around his palm in a gentle squeeze. ) This is really nice. And, okay, I admit: I thought chicken and waffles was going to be super weird, but this is actually really good.
( a soft, pleased little smile, and kimberly's gaze ducks down. she's not sure what to say. )
Thank you.
( a good start? right? )
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[ He doesn't say something like 'it's nothing' - he doesn't want to devalue the experience for her, makes it seem like it's no big deal for him to try his best to seduce her. His fingers curl around hers, and his smile is sincere, a little amused at the corners.
There's something in him that feels a little exposed when he's not wearing sunglasses, when he doesn't have the excuse of looking at the road ahead of him and he can only look into her eyes and let her see him that's slightly unnerving, but he doesn't look away. He wonders what she can see in his eyes; can she tell of his criminal past? ]
So where are you from, that chicken and waffles isn't a breakfast staple?
[ There's a lot he still has a chance to learn about Kimberly, and he's curious by nature. ]
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( she shrugs. angel grove had not exactly been the best place to grow up, but it was home. she doesn't exactly miss the place, but... thinking about angel grove makes her think of the rangers. did they know she was gone? did they miss her? were they safe?
she has to shake herself out of those thoughts, an apologetic smile as she feels his hand squeeze against hers, a reassuring gesture. )
It's funny, I always wanted to get out, just go anywhere else. You know? Get in a car and just drive... ( a quiet huff of laughter under her breath punctuates the thought. ) I didn't really think it would ever happen.
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Atlanta, Georgia. Grew up in the thick of the city.
[ Maybe why he started stealing cars so early. Too much temptation.
That'd be a lie, though. It wasn't why, but it contributed to it. The temptation, and the anonymity. He takes another bite before speaking again, his smile a little bittersweet when he does. ]
Drive east, in a car you can't afford, and a plan you don't have?
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( maybe directions hadn't been part of it, but kimberly had never had much of a plan. she had just wanted out of angel grove, out of the judgmental stares and the mean girl bullshit. and then... everything changed, and she'd wound up tied to the town in a way she had never expected. being somewhere else felt a little bittersweet now.
she's not quite as adept at working with her left hand, so as much as kimberly wants to let her hand rest entwined with him, she sort of needs it if she's going to eat anything before it gets cold. the adjustment comes, at least, with an apologetic squeeze and a smile; it helps, too, that she's enthusiastically pleased about how good everything is, or that it doesn't take her very long to finish off her plate once she starts. ranger appetites, they're a dangerous thing.
they linger in companionable quiet for a few minutes, until the plates are cleared and the table settings set away for washing a bit later; when all is done, kimberly lingers by the countertop, the hint of expectations unfulfilled in her eyes as she watches him work. )
Thank you, by the way. ( it's unflinchingly sincere, in a way she doesn't often try to be. you can get hurt being honest, putting your heart on your sleeve, but there's something about baby that tells her she can trust him with it. ) I... honestly, I can't remember the last time somebody did something like this for me.
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He clears up the table after they're done, piling everything up in the sink before turning to Kimberly when she thanks him once more. He reaches out again, too easy not to, to twirl a strand of hair around one of his fingers. ]
You're welcome. It was my pleasure, truly.
[ And it was - maybe it's his upbringing, but he likes to take care of people, and he knows he can be reckless about it. But in this way, it's simple and easy and it makes him feel good, too, to see that smile on her face and the softness on her features. ]
So. No pie?
i continue to be the #worst
he's not leering at her. there's no blatant expectation of desire or wanting, just pleasure in her company, in doing something nice just because. kimberly's not really sure what to do with it. for once, she feels like she's playing on someone else's home turf.
but at least there's a question posed. something for her to reply to, straightforward and easy. ) I'm not much of a pie person, honestly?
( open to alternatives, though? definitely. )
hush you're the best
He doesn't know why - it's not fear of rejection, or worry; he's feeling calm and confident and comfortable, right now, but he still feels compelled to ask: ]
Can I --
[ kiss you? goes unsaid as he leans in closer but still doesn't close the gap, even though he kissed her just before dinner. It feels more decisive, now, like a kiss could definitely lead to more, and he doesn't want to assume. ]
no clearly n o t
of course he can. she's here, isn't she? she's here, with her face cupped so carefully in his hands, like she's a delicate piece of china, something that might break if handled wrong. if only he knew how roughly kimberly's been handled, how much she can take.
how much she will take, if only to feel something for a moment. how roughly she believes she should be handled, how that touch is all she believes she's owed.
her answer comes as quietly as his question, breathed out over a soft exhale that skims over his mouth, ) Yeah. ( her tongue darts out to flick over her bottom lip, lingering for a moment before pulling back. )
You can.
shhhh *pets your hair*
Maybe she likes to be handled roughly. But she also doesn't look to be complaining about the careful way he touches her and asks her permission, and so he smiles when she agrees, leaning in to kiss her, thumb still brushing her cheek.
Despite the softness, he's also not hesitant about it, when he kisses her. He licks at her bottom lip, the corners of his lips curved into a smile as he pushes her against the kitchen counter a little, still leaving her more than enough give to pull back if she wants to. Still, he angles his body towards hers, and kisses her with intent, nothing to be mistaken there - she tastes like brown sugar, and he can't get enough. ]
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she expects him to push forward, to take with greedy desperation, heat and wanting pulling their bodies together, but it never comes. instead, he lingers just far enough away to make her miss the closeness; his hands are warm and reassuring against her jaw and cheek, delicately guiding her movements as his mouth plots out a course against her own.
it's enough to leave her a little breathless, eyes fluttering closed; her body is at once both loose and strung tight like a bow, but yet, and perhaps more importantly, malleable — entirely, completely his for the taking, if he'd like her to be. )
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Whatever she's willing to give, he'll take. Without pushing, or demanding. His hand finds the place it did earlier, before dinner, where it rested low on the back of her hip, fisting the fabric of her dress.
When he pulls away, he's pretty sure he's looking a little dazed. He licks his lips, eyes darting down to her legs, helplessly. ]
Want to take this to the living-room?
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