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| For Katie | |
| By dante8 | |||||
| 03 February 2007 | |||||
‘I daresay I will one day. Just not whilst you’re so beautiful.’ She snorted, and rolled upright. She spun around and sat facing him on the sofa, unaware of the short look of pain that crossed the young man’s face as she left his lap that was gone by the time she faced him. He sprawled across the sofa, one leg flush with the back and one dangling over the side. He leaned his head back and cradled it in his hands. ‘But I’m not beautiful at the moment, so you should be bored.’ ‘Whatever you say, oh jewel of the desert,’ came the flippant reply from the region of his head. ‘I’m serious, Jonathan. Stop it. You know it makes me feel uncomfortable.’ His head reappeared from where he’d tilted it, and he shimmied down the sofa so that he could rest it on the armrest. ‘True,’ he said, ‘and we never actually got to the bottom of that, did we?’ ‘Really?’ she asked, in mock surprise. ‘I thought it came down to the fairly basic premise of when you do it, I don’t trust what you’re saying, and I like being secure in what I know.’ ‘Oh, yes,’ he said, as if suddenly struck by thought. ‘Yes, I remember, and I said it was ridiculous and that you could trust everything I could say and you said yes, about as far as you, Katie, could spit a whale.’ ‘I did not!’ ‘Okay, you didn’t use those words per say, but I think that was the general gist of it. Was I wrong? Were you actually saying, Yes, Jono, I love being complimented, as it makes me feel all warm and bubbly inside.’ She looked at him for a little while, then suddenly pinned him down, her fingers fitting between his and pushing his arms flat to the sofa. ‘Would I say something like that?’ she asked, trying to think of a way to stop her hair falling into her eyes. The same thought seemed to have occurred to Jonathan. ‘Could you at least tie your hair up before you go and do something like that?’ he asked. ‘Only know I’ve-ah, ah, ah-I’ve got an itchy nose. Get it quick!’ ‘How?’ she asked, half-laughing at his frantic attempts to scratch his nose on anything that came to hand. ‘I don’t care!’ he roared, writing about and almost bucking her off. ‘Just get something, anything to itch-my-damn-NOSE!’ It was too much. She was in fits of giggles now, and couldn’t hold on any longer. He seized the initiative, flipping her over and pinning her the same way she’d pinned him. ‘Hah!’ he said, grinning. ‘Gotcha! How’d you like it now, miss cool-calm-and-under-control?’ ‘You haven’t itched your nose yet,’ she pointed out, breathless from the giggles. He stared at her for a second, then itched it on her top, just below her bra. ‘Erm, Jonathan,’ she said, a little quizzically, ‘do you mind?’ ‘No,’ he stated, cheerfully. ‘I do!’ she said, all indignance. ‘Don’t care. Your fault I have an itchy nose!’ This set her off on another fit of giggles, and when she’d recovered, she asked ‘My fault? How was it my fault?’ ‘Because,’ he said, still industrially rubbing his nose on her top. ‘Because what?’ ‘Because!’ he said, finally sitting back up and squatting on her stomach. ‘Because I’d forgotten about it, until you reminded me.’ |
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