Story: Saving Elliot

Type: Fan Fic, written by Kaddydee (please check her out, she is absolutely amazing!)

Word Count: 5600

Summary: In which Elliot and Elliot engage in a midnight conversation.

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Knock. Knock.

After what feels like an everlasting minute, there's a shuffling sound from inside the house before a silhouette appears. A familiar scraping of hinges fills the silence before the door swings open to reveal an angry little blonde with a chip on her shoulder. Clad in pyjama shorts and a tank top that has ridden up to expose her stomach, Elliot Jensen looks nothing less than extraordinarily beautiful - except for the faint crust of drool that marks a path starting from the corner of her full lips to her chin.

Cute.

"It's two o'clock in the bloody morning," she snaps in a low groan, eyes partially closed as she leans heavily on the door frame. By the looks of it, I'm pretty sure she's still clinging onto the fringes of her slumber, desperate to go back to sleep.

"Well hello to you too, munchkin."

Her eyes fling open, bulging out of their sockets as they rake up and down my body. Repeating the movement, she pretty much gawks at me for an entire minute, opening and closing her mouth until her jaw hits the floor, leaving her mouth wide enough to catch a billion flies and still have room for more. Typical Jensen.

"Are you going to let me in or what?" I wrap my long fingers around the suitcase handle and jerk my chin at the door, waiting for her brain to overcome its slight - possibly major - malfunction as she continues to gawk at me. "Nice pyjamas by the way."

The bubble encasing her mind pops and she snaps out of her trance, blinking like a blind person seeing for the first time. A flush creeps up her neck just as her eyes grow accustomed to my unexpected presence. She yanks her tank top down until it stretches over her butt. When she crosses her arms over her chest, my gaze lowers and I smirk when she curses and uncrosses her arms.

"You c-can't be here," Jensen stammers. "I thought you were coming back after Results Day."

"I decided to book an earlier flight," I reply coolly, unable to keep my irritation in check while she continues to block the doorway. "Damn it Jensen, will you just let me in?"

Suddenly her manners kick in and she blinks twice before nodding. I stride past her, unintentionally knocking into her shoulder as I make a beeline for the stairs, eager to rid myself of my suitcase that happens to weigh twice as much as the entire planet. When I steal a glance over my shoulder, I try not to stare too long at the awe that lights up her eyes like an bright nebula.

"Lost for words?" I remark, snapping her out of her daze as she hurries after me.

"Not even close," she grumbles and the light in her eyes powers off at my cocky tone.

"Whatever you say, munchkin."

She's annoyed but I can't be bothered to dwell on it for too long. What was she expecting; some kind of emotional reunion? We both know I don't do emotions or reunions.

I don't bother switching on the light to my bedroom, hastily dumping my suitcase behind the door. Although the blinds are drawn, most of the room is lost in shadows and I sense her moving at its periphery when I seat myself on the edge of the bed. She hovers by the door, bathed in long horizontal strips of moonlight that have escaped the blinds, eyes shimmering the way a swimming pool does when sunlight strikes the surface, shifting and constantly moving, half with unease and the rest with longing. It's a kaleidoscope of silvers and blues.

Jensen clears her throat and averts her gaze, letting her eyes skitter across the empty room before focusing on her bare feet. "You must be exhausted from the long flight."

"Yeah, it was a killer," I reply. "Twenty hours altogether. Four from Sacramento to Chicago, then eight hours transit plus another eight to get to Manchester."

She toys with the wispy strands framing her face and I feel the sudden urge to replace her hands with mine. I wish she'd free them from the messy bun that's barely holding her unruly curls together. I wish she'd let me touch her curls, touch her, memorise her, every inch, every crest. I want to feel the warmth of her cheeks against my cool palms; the curve of her back beneath my hand; the soft pressure of her lips against mine. My fingers twitch, itching to move but I clench them and fixate my gaze on the closest strip of moonlight.

The tension in the room crackles, sparking like electricity, and heavy like a hand pressing down on me from every angle. She glances up, not knowing what to do with her hands. They knead one another, awkward and uncomfortable. Squirming beneath her gaze, I frown and look away.

"I guess I'll, umm, leave you to unpack and get some sleep. We can, uh, talk in the morning," she mumbles as she trudges to the door, backing away, clearly disappointed.

I quickly reach forward, latching a hand around her wrist as I gently tug her towards me.

"Stay," I say, nervously licking my lower lip and looking away when she stops resisting. "Unless you'd rather go back to sleep?"

She shakes her head quickly, blonde curls spilling out of her saggy bun when she reluctantly takes a seat beside me on the bed. The mattress dips a little and I roll my eyes at the half metre gap between us.

"I'm not going to bite you, Jensen." I slowly unzip my leather jacket and she arches an eyebrow and scoffs, sky blue eyes scanning my entire face, committing each feature to memory like she's studying super hard for a test. "Seriously, I've been tested for rabies," I joke, "and by the looks of it, you should be too."

A familiar spark lights up her eyes, flashing first with anger and then with irritation. God, I've missed annoying the fuck out of her.

"Funny," she drawls and I raise a hand, tipping my imaginary hat in gratitude to mark her sarcasm. "You're in a good mood for someone who has just had a long flight."

Fighting back a soft smile, I slip on an impassive mask and shrug my shoulders.

"I have every reason to be."

My eyes bore into hers, heated and incredibly soft. Warmth breaks across my chest. A pink flush brightens her cheeks and she instantly looks away, fiddling with the fraying hemline of her shorts.

"So, how was America?" Jensen asks after a moment of silence, dragging the words as she stalls. "Did you get through all the shit you had left to resolve?"

Letting loose an elongated sigh, I clench my jaw and stare straight ahead. My face shuts down as I formulate a decent answer, slack and vacant of any facial expression. It's not like I don't want her to know how relieved I am that my mom and I are on speaking terms again - I do - but I'm not quite sure how to express this kind of overwhelming relief.

Do people smile when a weight has been lifted off their shoulders? Do they throw their arms up in the air and do a lame ass victory dance around their bedroom? See the thing is I wouldn't know. I've had this weight on my shoulder for so long that I can't recall the last time I felt this kind of liberating freedom. After years of choking on grief so suffocating and so immense it only makes sense for me to act this way. This breakthrough of light in the darkness that once pulled me under is a blessing that I can't afford to lose. I know that I still have a long, long way to go; but at least for now, with this ray of relief I can navigate my way back to the life I lived when Dad was still around.

I'm not happy, I don't think I ever will achieve full-fledged happiness but I've attained an ounce of hope and that's enough to keep me going for now. Jensen is enough to fuel this hope for now.

I rake my hair back, ignoring the additional length that has crept up on me this summer. It's far too long for my liking but Jensen can't seem to tear her eyes away from my dark locks. I try to decipher the look on her face but it's no good, reading her emotions is like interpreting a naked canvas. Impossible. Blank.

"The first few days were incredibly awkward and we didn't speak much," I start off in a whisper, clearing my throat when Jensen inches closer. "In fact, we didn't speak at all. She was just so...distant. After a week of silence, I just came out with everything and confronted her about her depression, my downward spiral throughout junior year and the horrible things I said to her before departing for England. She started crying. It wasn't a few stray tears here and there, she literally broke down and excused herself before I could begin to comfort her. I-I wasn't sure why she was crying but I guess I preferred that reaction to her usual stony silence. Fast forward a few awkward situations and we managed to wipe the slate clean...well kind of." I focus on the strips of pale moonlight that line the carpet. They're edging closer towards us, shadows dotting the strips of milky light whenever an insect outside interferes with the moonlight's direct beam. "We still have a long way to go and a lot to talk about," I break off and look at Jensen, "but we're getting there."

Pride blooms across her soft features like a flower unravelling after a long winter, tugging the corners of her lips up and brightening her eyes. I find myself returning her soft smile. Her warm hand reaches out to hold mine, soft palms gliding across mine as I push my long fingers into the space between her thin ones.

"What about your old friends?" Jensen asks quietly, her eyes blinding me when they fall under the strip of moonlight bathing her brows.

"I did my best," I reply, too exhausted to pry any further into the matter when there's another impending issue we've yet to discuss. Us. I don't want to go there but the insistence flickering behind her eyes and the way her lips part every few moments to speak up tells me that we'll tackle the matter very soon, if not tonight. "At first they were hostile but after a few icebreakers, I managed to ease the tension between us. We mainly hung out doing fuck all. It's hard to say if we'll stay friends but if they choose to end things at least it won't be on bad terms."

Her smile grows in size and all I can think is, oh shit.

"I'm glad you're back," she says, edging a little closer. I can smell her, a brief whiff. Soap, fresh grass shaving, peach scented shampoo and all things Jensen. Inhaling deeply, I'm reminded of evergreen trees, springtime and blooming flowers. "The twins are back in Michigan. Harry and Brigitte are back in France. The others left two weeks ago so you can only imagine why it's been so weird to have some peace and quiet in this house."

"Oh zip it, Jensen." I bite back a laugh and playfully bump my shoulder against hers. The whiff is stronger now, a thread drawing me closer. "We both know you're the greatest source of noise in this house. You and your stupid temper tantrums. Not me."

"If there's anyone with a temper it's you."

"You're fucking kidding me right?"

"Do I look like I'm fucking kidding?"

I give her one long, hard look. "Wow, you really are an idiot."

"An idiot?" She glowers and yanks her hand free from mine. Coldness rushes to fill the space between my fingers. "Says the guy who cut my hair after eating my cake roughly two minutes after we met."

"Says the girl who tried to strangle me after I ate a cake with my name on it."

"Say the twat who's too stupid to realise that we have the same name."

"Says the freak who brushed her teeth with paint."

"Says the tosser who walked into a door with a bucket of blue paint balanced at the top."

"Says the moron who slammed me into a wall and damned me with therapy sessions with a crazy bitch."

"Says the wanker who dragged my mattress outside and left me to sleep in some bloody sub zero temperature for the whole night!"

"Says the dumbass who crashed my car and tried to kill us both!"

Jensen opens her mouth, ready to fire back another retort when she clamps her mouth shut and scowls. I remember the days I was always on the receiving end of that scowl and chuckle. It does little to cloak the fury building up within her.

"Our car, Fintry. For the last time, that car wasn't just yours! It was ours, to share." She corrects me in a fierce tone, eyes blazing with immense exasperation. "And I didn't intentionally crash our car!"

"With or without intention, you nearly killed us both," I reply, shrugging my shoulders as amusement stretches my lips into a light smirk.

She growls. Fuck, that growl was incredible.

"Listen here you bloody twat," she hisses, scooting closer and inching forward until we're face to face.

"Oh, I'm listening. Keep talking, munchkin," I drawl, keeping my dark gaze locked on her, unfaltering as it continues to infuriate her to the very edge of the world. She's practically clinging onto the fringes of hell as she sucks in a low breath to simmer down her fury.

"Don't call me that. And I did not try to kill you! If I wanted to kill you - which I do, especially right now - I would skewer your bloody balls, roast them with marshmallows and force feed them to you before taking a knife and slitting your throat from ear to ear. Then of course, I would proceed to carry forward the old customs of execution in England and have you drawn and quartered. Then, and only then, will I behead you." Jensen takes a deep breath. "Dickhead."

My eyes widen a fraction, drinking in the sight of her chest as it heaves up and down with the very same fury that she's never been able to keep from surfacing around me. It's like we're two flames being held too close together, only to combine to form a larger, more dangerous flame. We're no good together, but one look at her wild eyes and unruly curls and I realise that we're only good for each other. Well, truth be told, deep down I know that I'm no good for her because she's everything I don't deserve. But I'm willing to take more than I'm entitled to have. Selfish, I know.

"Chill Jensen, there's no need to bring out the big guns." I laugh lightly, amused that my nonchalant, casual response only earns a few curse words. I was expecting her to claw my eyes out by this stage.

"You're a complete and utter piece of shit," she grunts, huffing in defeat as she tries to scoot back to place some distance between us.

I bring a hand down to clamp her shoulder, rooting her to her spot. She instantly relaxes.

"God, you're so annoying," I say, my voice softening when I add, "I missed your stupidity."

"Out of all the things to missed about me," she grumbles, rolling her eyes as a ghost of a smile twitches the corners of her mouth, "it just so happened to be my superior ability to put you in your rightful place as the biggest muppet in the Jensen clan?"

"Nope. Just your stupidity," I reply with a light shrug, distracted by the subtle way her tongue flicks out to lick her lips. She notices my lowered gaze and gulps a little too loudly. She's nervous, and I'd be damned if I said I wasn't too.

"You are fucking unbelievable." She grips her curls and tugs them a little, frustration crinkling her nose when she scrunches it. Cute. My hands curl and uncurl, itching to tug her hair too. I shove them into the pockets of my leather jacket as she spits, "Jesus, you're a bigger muppet than Mac!"

"Hold on a sec," I exclaim, outraged by the sudden comparison. "I am nowhere near close to Mac. He's a God damned eleven on the muppet scale and I'm a negative eleven!"

"If he's eleven, then twelve has been reserved just for you," she replies smugly, enjoying the little crease that forms between my brows when I scowl at her.

"No way, no freaking way," I grunt. "Take it back, Jensen."

"Thing is," she drawls out slowly, sounding incredibly sanctimonious. My scowl deepens, almost melting into my chin as her lips twitch in amusement. "I'd love to take it back but I can't. Face it, Fintry, you're a bigger muppet than Mac and Arthur combined."

"Jensen, take it back. Now."

"I'm afraid I can't." Her voice takes on a soft lilt as she sings, "Sometimes the truth hurts for a little while, but I'm doing you a favour here - living in denial will only hurt forever."

"Thanks for the words of encouragement, Gandhi." I roll my eyes and rake a hand through my hair, messing it up even more than it always is. Dark locks feather in all directions, some falling back down to their original positions and others staying upright like spineless needles poking out of a black river.

A silence lapses between us as the bubbling frustration within me intensifies at the sight of her smug smirk. However, the instant I lean closer, her smirk drops and a flush creeps up her neck.

"W-what are you doing?" She stammers, eyes widening a fraction. Without sparing her a reply, my eyes bore into hers until she begins to squirm uncomfortably. "Stop that," she snaps, narrowing her eyes when my lips stretch into a full blown grin.

"Stop what, Jensen?"

Her bottomless blue eyes flash dangerously. "Elliot."

"Yes, Elliot?"

"Fintry," she warns me, leaning back to place a little distance between us.

"Jensen," I bite back, mimicking her harsh tone as I close in on her, slowly.

We glare at each other for an entire minute; well, she glares and I just...watch. I drink in the familiar curve of her nose, the soft planes of her cheekbones and the long blonde lashes that line her eyes. At some point over the summer Jensen grew more beautiful. Her lips are fuller, softer; eyes a brighter shade of blue; hair a lighter shade of spun gold, too much sun exposure I'm guessing; skin sporting a slight golden tan that I could only dream of having.

Jensen is glowing, radiating a dewy, youthful beauty that makes the warmth in my chest fan out across my body, unfurling, uncurling, stretching out like a yawn, overwhelming me until I lean closer.

"I missed this," I say quietly when my smug grin dwindles into a soft smile.

Instantly her irritation melts right off her face, replaced with an aching nostalgia that makes my breath noticeably hitch.

"Well, I-I missed you," she blurts, cheeks glowing with embarrassment.

It's quite weird to acknowledge the way she's holding nothing back when she's around me. Quite often, before the car crash, Jensen would struggle to retain her true emotions around me, though half her attempts were meek failures. At first her crush on me seemed a little far fetched and I didn't really want to jump to conclusions but eventually I caught on like a fire raging through a pool of gasoline. All the little clues lit up like a star, joining together to form a constellation, and I was blindsided by the sudden realisation that Jensen actually liked me. Liked liked me. I know I can be a little blind at times, like the way I remained oblivious to Ronnie's feelings for me back before she perished, but nobody is that blind, or stupid, or living in a mindless stupor.

"I-I..." My voice sounds incredibly husky and I clear my throat. By this stage I've already swallowed my confidence. I missed you more, Jensen. "Never mind."

She watches me carefully, a ghost of a frown lingering on her lips. The urge to kiss her overwhelms me, stronger than a tide pulling me back to sea. I'm swimming against the current by resisting this urge, grappling, gasping, fighting. Losing. Leaning forward, I leave a centimetre gap between our noses and watch her eyes go out of focus.

"Elliot," she tries to protest, her voice incredibly sluggish like I'm sedating her with my heated gaze.

"Be quiet."

I expect a snarky response in return, or one of her cute stammers but she actually listens and stays quiet. My fingertips graze her brow when I reach up to gently push her hair back. Closing in, the soft pressure of her cool lips sends an uninvited warmth through me. With incredible delicacy, I brush my lips against hers, lighter than a feather's touch. Once, twice. The third time she catches my bottom lip between hers and ceases the achingly slow movement.

Time speeds up, coinciding with her fast paced lips and a feeling of vertigo overwhelms me to the point that I'm the first to pull away, breathless and panting in unison with her. Her smooth eyelids flutter open, unravelling an ocean of blue so vast that I know I'll never resurface if I get swept under.

Maybe Jensen has already sucked me into those bright blue waters and I'm just oblivious to everything going on around us. Maybe I've already reached that state of delirium, right before a person dies, when they're unsure of what is actually real and what isn't; because this all feels too good to be true. Elliot Jensen is too good to be true.

I don't bother giving her a second to compose herself, instantly diving deeper into those blue waters. I close my eyes and free myself, letting her soft lips work alongside mine. Heat blisters through me, first a simple wave, tingling and prickling. Then she opens her mouth wider and a tsunami surges through every nerve ending, each wave far more blistering that the first.

"Ellie," I breathe raggedly when we pull apart, chests heaving against one another.

"Please," she begs, "stop talking."

The urge to bury my hands into her thick curls overwhelms me and this time I do not hesitate to sift my fingers through each lock, brushing them, twisting them, tangling them until I'm not entirely sure where my fingers begin and where her fair hair ends. I can't help but compare the stark difference us; her hair is so light that whenever sunlight hits every strand it looks as though there's a golden halo of frizz sitting on her scalp whereas my hair is darker than black ink spilled onto a stark white parchment. My eyes are bottomless pits of darkness and hers are a pale watery abyss that expands further than the universe.

Where I am darkness, she is the light that follows.

Jensen pulls away, chest rising and falling so hard that I'm worried that her ribcage might cave in and collapse on top of her frail lungs. She's a small thing, fragile and delicate and remarkably short.

"Elliot, w-we need to talk," she stammers, breathless.

Distracted and dazed, I pepper kisses along her jawline and up to her earlobe before murmuring, "Talk about what?"

"T-This," she stammers. "Us."

I pull back, not far enough to unbury my fingers from her hair, but far enough to give me full access to her heavy eyelids. She's exhausted.

"What about us?" I remark carefully, tiptoeing around the subject, desperate to mould my lips between hers again. "There is no us."

"Exactly," she replies, frowning and gently trying to retract my hands from her hair. I refuse to budge. "We can't just, you know...start kissing when the lines are blurred between us."

"What's wrong with blurred lines?" I lower my gaze to her mouth and lick my lips. "We have plenty of time to figure this shit out."

She shakes her head and forcefully pushes my hands back down to my lap. I frown deeply, irritation flaring up inside me like a beacon. Why is she so bullheaded and full-frontal with every damn problem between us? The last time she tried to force me to talk about this unresolved issue we almost hurtled to our deaths in that stupid car.

"I think we should..." She trails off, drawing her lips into a thin line. "Maybe we should stay friends. It's what you need right now."

Heaving a sigh, I lean back and nod in agreement, watching her head hang low when she registers that she is indeed correct. She's always fucking right. Damn Jensen and her ability to outsmart me in almost every argument. I'm perfectly aware that I'm in no state to pursue a relationship. I can't provide her with the constant affection she desires; I can't treat her with the level of kindness and compassion that she expects from me; I can't promise her happiness and security without saying something hurtful during one of my moody episodes. All I have to offer are snarky comments, sarcastic remarks and arguments over who gets to pick what to watch on TV. The best I can offer her is spontaneity and a dash of insanity and that's about it. I can't give her all of me, I don't think I'll ever be able to give her all of me.

A platonic friendship. That's what I need. It's want we both need.

"But what about what I want?" I blurt, midway through my chaotic thoughts.

Her eyebrows furrow together, first with confusion and then with realisation.

"And what is it that you want?" She questions me in a voice so soft I barely hear her.

"Isn't it obvious?" I muse quietly, hoping that she won't make me say it.

I don't want to say it. I can't.

"Not really," she replies, knitting her eyebrows together. "You're a piece of work to figure out ninety nine percent of the time."

"Oh," I say, looking away. I'm going to have to work on that. See, another reason why we shouldn't be together.

"Then there's that one percent where I see you, the real you; and..." A small smile possesses her lips and she reaches out to clip my jaw, forcing me to look back at her. "Well, it's all worth it. All of the mind games, stupid riddles and blank faces. I can handle it, Elliot. I can handle you."

I try to fight back a smile, ignoring the blanket of warmth that cloaks my body, like I'm bathing in the hottest summer sun with nothing underneath me except a stretching sea of liquid heat. My hands coast up her bare arms, one disappearing into her curls as the other grazes her collarbone and curls around the back of her neck. Slowly, I lean in, pausing inches before her lips. My eyes flick up to meet hers and I let loose the smile I've been withholding when I see that her eyes have already fluttered shut.

"Ellie," I whisper, studying her long blonde lashes as they touch her eyebrows when her eyes fling open again. "I-I can't... I can't make any promises if we...you know, really do this."

"I'm not asking you to," she replies quietly, her gaze darting everywhere and latching onto random objects, straying anywhere but my face.

"I-I know El," I sigh, mentally beating myself up for being terrible at stuff like this. Jesus, what is wrong with me? Why is it so hard to admit something so simplistic? Fear yawns open inside my chest, threatening to suck all my organs into a black hole of trepidation when I add, "but I'd really like to, uh, you know, give us a go."

An expanse of sky blue stretches out before me, wave after wave of desire, passion, hesitation, fear and most importantly, love. She doesn't conceal it the way she tried to at the hospital. She opens herself up to me, giving me a bird's eye view of everything I've missed since she confessed. These waves threaten to swallow me whole and I exhale sharply to avoid drowning in her dazed eyes.

"I want to give us a go, too."

I'm perfectly aware that we're too hot headed to last more than five seconds without bursting into an argument about something stupid like freaking chopsticks, damn pigeons or fucking pencils.

"We probably won't work out," I mutter, tucking a wispy blonde curl behind her ear as she leans into the palm that cups her cheek.

"I know," she replies, eyes locked on my mouth as it forms a deep frown at my previous response. "But if I gave a flying fuck, I wouldn't be here right now."

Unable to stifle a laugh, I shake my head in disbelief and remember Mom's words after Dad's funeral. Six years it has taken me to realise which category I fall into. Six years have been leading up to this very moment, with Jensen of all people. I used to fear I didn't belong in either category but looking into Jensen's bright blue eyes bathes me in a certainty I've never felt before.

Elliot Jensen, those who do.

Elliot Fintry, those who do.

If I can put myself out there and try to make things work with the only girl who has ever attempted to strangle me, then I definitely deserve to fall into the second category. Maybe, I might just earn the right to fall for her too even if we're light and darkness personified. But that's just what we are. Polar opposites. Winter and summer; ice and fire; north and south; heaven and hell - but maybe, just maybe, we can meet in the middle, in some sort of purgatory where we can cancel out both sides of the equation to form something completely new.

It can't be too hard because opposites tend to attract, or so they say.

"What are you thinking about?"

"None of your business," I say, more out of instinct that contempt for the girl watching me with a wounded grimace. I heave a sigh and look away before mumbling, "You. For fuck's sake, munchkin. When am I thinking about anything but you?"

She's rendered speechless, completely lost for words before she breaks out into a ear splitting grin.

"A penny for your valuable thoughts?" I drawl, sarcasm dripping off every word as I arch an eyebrow and scowl deeply because I can't decipher her as well I used to be able to. She's too unpredictable - even when she isn't holding back her feelings for me.

"I'm worth more than a fucking penny, you dumb prat."

Although her lips are etched into a mocking frown, her tone is jocular and incredibly light.

"You wish, munch-"

I'm cut off when her small hands grab the collar of my leather jacket. Jensen yanks me forward, kissing me hard. When she pulls away - eyes hooded and unfocused, lips parted and breaths shallow - I lift a hand and caress her cheek with my knuckles, tracing her cheekbones as her lips fumble to form a sentence.

I feel a twinge of - of - something. It's hard hitting and brings an ache to my chest. My stomach clenches in on itself as I try to repress this treacherous ache winging through my entire body in hopes that it doesn't tear me apart the way it once did with Nova. I'm paralysed with fear when my stomach see-saws violently.

Metal fingers tighten around my throat, words rising, bubbling up, bursting at the seams, eager to be uttered - yelled, even - but my tongue is heavy. I am not ready.

"Don't say it," I beg, shaking my head. "Just don't."

"I-I want to," she admits, lowering her gaze. "I need to."

I clip her chin between my forefinger and thumb, tilting it up and forcing her to meet my heated gaze.

"Save it," I say quietly, tilting my head to press a lingering kiss on her mouth. "Hold onto it. Save it for a little while longer."

"But Elliot I-"

"Please. For me."

Jensen nods reluctantly, curling a hand around the back of my neck before pulling me in for another kiss. I close my eyes, allowing a curtain of darkness to fall as I move my lips in sync with hers, and just like that the world around us powers off, leaving us in an everlasting darkness that forces us to move closer to one another. Warmth floods my system, forcing liquid heat to scorch every point of contact between us as my cool hands cup her flushed cheeks.

There's a jolt of electricity in the air, a zipping tension that crackles and sparks, threatening to catch fire when her fingers disappear into my hair, tugging hard, pulling me closer. My entire body is humming, thrumming with the electrifying energy between us. A soft moan rises from the back of my throat when she pulls away and looks at me, really looks at me.

Our foreheads are pressed together and through the darkness our fingers find each other. Heat fans my lower lip when she exhales shakily and the strangest thing begins to happen when I finally let the blue tides of her eyes pull me under. Time loses its meaning and slows down, almost edging to a complete stop. It's just Jensen and I, standing on its periphery. Silent, still and breathing.

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a/n : this was written by Kaddydee for the one shot competition i threw for SE a while back. i loved it so much i needed to post it on here. BRILLIANT OR WHAT??? ive re-read it so many times. so please, go check out kaddydee's other works.

- Rose xoxo