bakerstreet | THE KISSING BOOTH MEME

[How had poor Abdul gotten roped into this? She isn't sure. Quite possibly some trickery was involved. It isn't that he's uncharitable, not at all, but Jeanne suspects her Abdul would prefer to just write a check and be done with it.

It doesn't matter. She's here. His knight in shining armor, or at least a bright shade of lipstick and a short skirt. She's also armed with twenty bucks, so effectively, they're going to make out for charity. There's far worse ways to while the day away on campus.]

Have you gotten many customers so far?

[She's grinning. Just because she's come to save him doesn't mean she's not going to make fun of him a little.]

[It was a very complicated and chaotic evening that led to him agreeing to this. Actually, "agreeing" isn't really the word. He simply chose to stop paying attention to an argument at the wrong time and was abruptly volunteered for something he wasn't terrifically keen on doing.]

[It could be worse, though. He would prefer to write a check, but such is life, and it's for a good cause that he immediately forgets as soon as Jeanne shows up.]

Some.

[A lot, actually. It's been sort of surprising.]

You look nice. [And like she's ready to be rude, but it's Jeanne, so. Not surprising.]

I do.

[She always looks cute, but tonight she's actually trying. Idly Jeanne leans her hips against the booth, fingers curling against the edge.]

How many is some, exactly?

[He snorts a little. What is modesty? Not that he cares. Not that she cares. So who cares?]

How many do you think it was? Exactly.

Call it ten.

[He looks like he's been kissed. Not well, not with the fierce intensity they kiss, but still. Jeanne tips her head, studying him with a little frown. It isn't that she's jealous. It would be stupid to be; it's not as if he's going around wantonly. But still . . .]

[A one-shouldered shrug.]

A little low. Not awfully low, but a little.

[He's not bragging. It's not as though it's even remotely serious. But she is frowning at him.]

[Yeah, no. She's not upset with him, because that would be unfair and idiotic, but it's good she's here now. Jeanne sets the money down on the table-- twenty dollars, more than enough to keep him occupied for the rest of the day-- and flaps her hand.]

I'm sitting.

[On you, so clear your lap, that's what that hand movement means.]

[Oh. All . . . right, they're doing this now. He lifts his hands, spread in acquiescence, and indicates his lap with a nod. It's not as though he was sitting around reading or anything.]

All yours.

[Good. Jeanne sits sideways, one hip pressed against his stomach, her arm looping around his neck. It's a comfortable way to sit, she considers. She might curl against him more fully if they weren't in public, but as it is, this is pretty good.]

How much longer do you have to stay here?

Mm . . .

[He squints at his watch, curled where he left it by the edge of the booth, as his arms come up to wrap around her securely. Not tightly, but securely.]

Half an hour. Maybe a few minutes more.

[Secure is good. Tight is good too, but one thing at a time.]

All right.

[Twenty bucks, right? She tips her head over, considering the rest of the auditorium. It's not empty, but it's not packed either.]

I can fit in twenty kisses in half an hour.

[She glances back at him with a grin. A moment, just to make sure he's game, and then Jeanne leans in, kissing him quickly. It's barely a kiss, but they've got nineteen to go.]

[Ah. Well, of course she can. He grins at her a little crookedly, and then she's kissing him. His fingers tighten on her knee instinctively, only then she's pulling away before he's entirely done, and what's that about.]

[He frowns a little.]

Are they all going to be that short?

Sorry, were you looking for something else?

[This is the face of someone honestly, genuinely, absolutely puzzled and a little injured.]

That was a peck. This is not a pecking booth.

[He shakes his head solemnly.]

You're going to have to do that one over.

What are you, the king of the booth? It was a kiss.

[She squints down at him. Rude.]

I'm not gonna keep kissing you if you're just going to reject them. Show me what counts first.

[Well. That's easy enough. He tugs her a little more firmly onto his lap.]

This is a demonstration, right? So it's not one of the twenty.

[He leans up into her then, tipping his head to kiss her soft and slow. It's not an earth-shaking kiss, but it's got the promise of one, for sure, is nearly one and would be if he'd just pull her a little closer. But they're her kisses, in the end, so she gets to guide them. That's his story and he's sticking to it.]

[The problem, of course, is that she very much wants it to be a kiss that goes somewhere. She always does with Abdul. He tugs her closer and suddenly she very much wants the half hour to be over, because they can't do a damn thing in public. She can't even straddle him, so what's the point?

She doesn't press closer. Not yet. She lingers at the kiss, fingers curled in his shirt, letting it go on as long as she can without deepening it.

She isn't breathless as she pulls back, but it's a close thing. Jeanne bites her bottom lip, eyes darting around his face.]

Twenty of those?

[It's hard not to be a little smug, looking at her. She's overwhelmed. It's cute. It's gorgeous, she's gorgeous. He can't feel her heart beating, but he's imagining he can.]

That's what you paid for.

[A beat.]

And you're the only one who gets that kind. So you're getting a deal, really.

You're damn right I'm the only one who gets that kind.

[Some of the dazed pleasure starting to leave her expression as she considers him. He's smug, which is either an attractive and irritating look for him, she can never decide which. Possibly both. Either way, it's only the first kiss; that smugness can't be allowed to continue for the next forty minutes.

Jeanne leans heavily against him, her free hand splayed over his chest, and kisses him. One. It's a good kiss, harder and hotter than Abdul's had been. It's fierce where his was sensual, and she opens her mouth to it for just a few teasing seconds before pulling back.]

One.

[She's always fierce. Fierce or playful, often both. Like now. It's one of the best things about her, and he responds as eagerly as he always does, leaning up into her and raking his fingers through her hair. He looks dazed and delighted when she pulls away, though still admittedly a bit smug.]

One, [he echoes.]

[That's a bit better. He looks about as affected as she is, and that's all she really wants.]

I'm holding you responsible if this gets out of hand.

[A word of warning before she leans in for her second kiss. She opens her mouth to it immediately, arching against him-- because every kiss has to trump the last. She can't simply falter or give him less than what he's previously gotten. And by that logic, they're absolutely not going to make it to twenty, but she'll let him worry about that.]

[He doesn't even have time to laugh. Anyway, it's not funny, especially since it's absolutely going to get out of hand, they're absolutely not going to make it to twenty, and honestly they might not even make it to ten — but in fairness to him, he didn't actually want to do the booth in the first place, and she paid.]

[And anyway: he doesn't want to say no to her. Not when she's pressed against him like this, her mouth hot and wet against his. He responds right away, hooking his arm around her waist and drawing her in, kissing back rough and a little breathless until he catches her bottom lip between his teeth and slowly pulls away.]

Two.

[God. God. It's a good thing she's wearing a skirt right now; the temptation to straddle him would be irresistible otherwise. She shifts, squirming in his lap-- not to tease him, but simply because she loves that grip around her hips.

They're not going to make it to five.]

Three.

[--she murmurs, and ducks her head down, kissing the side of his neck, light kisses interspersed with little bites. Maybe she can stretch it out to seven this way.]

[All right, it might not be meant to tease, but that doesn't mean it doesn't. He huffs impatiently, digging his fingers in a little harder to keep her still, but there she is ducking away from him.]

[Honestly, he'd like to complain. He doesn't, though: just grits his teeth and exhales sharply, keeping his hands very firmly where they are.]

Three.

mohammad abdul | jjba ( stardust crusaders )

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