Genre(s): romance, fluff
Word Count: 603
Summary: Krystal has to do everything while Amber remains intentionally clueless.
a/n: I've decided to write a drabble a day about a pairing that I want to write about, but haven't written at all or haven't written enough of. Here's the first.
“Make room,” Amber demands good naturedly when she comes across Krystal sprawled out on the couch, taking up all of the room as she flips through a fashion magazine. Amber hears a sigh and then Krystal bends her knees and makes room for her.
Amber sits down and grabs the remote, turning the TV on and beginning to watch the latter half of whatever variety show is playing on SBS, but she yelps when she feels ice cold toes digging into her side.
“Yah! What are you doing?”
“My feet are freezing and you’re warm,” Krystal states simply without looking up, toes pushing against Amber’s warm flesh through her cotton t-shirt, “If you want the couch right now, my feet come with it.”
Amber decides that she doesn’t really mind that Krystal’s slender feet with turquoise toe nail polish are pressing against her waist. And the fact that she’s always been rather ticklish there is the reason why it’s making her lightheaded, a smile firmly in place as she continues to watch the show.
Amber pushes open the partially ajar door to the bathroom, to find Krystal in just a bra and panties with her head flipped upside down as she dries her hair. When she flips back up again, her eyes settle on Amber in the mirror.
“Yeah?” she asks, turning her hairdryer off and running her fingers through the silky strands.
“Oh, um…I was just going to ask if I could brush my teeth,” Amber explains, suddenly feeling like maybe she should have just waited.
“Sure, go ahead,” is all the other girl says before the roar of the hairdryer is back and Amber finds herself moving in front of her to brush her teeth at the sink.
Hot air from the hairdryer keeps hitting her bare arm as she rinses her mouth out and spits into the sink. It’s a perfectly logical explanation as to why her skin is warm.
Drinking a glass of water, Amber leans against the counter in the kitchen, staring blankly at the wall opposite her. It isn’t until Krystal is halfway to the fridge that she even notices her presence.
It’s when she’s on her way out
that she trips over the rug in front of the sink and Amber has to reach out to catch her with her free arm. It’s instinct, she thinks as she rights Krystal and asks if she’s okay before she takes a long drink of water, watching Krystal leave as though she didn’t almost face-plant.
Her pounding heart is a product of the fact that she just saved her best friend from knocking her teeth out on the kitchen floor. It was a close call, she assures herself.
Krystal plops down hard on the couch next to Amber while she’s watching a movie.
“Do I have to be the one to confess too
?” she asks, an irritated edge to her voice that Amber is quite familiar with. What she’s saying, however, isn’t so familiar.
“Huh?” Amber asks intelligently, looking over at Krystal’s just-barely-containing-her-frustrations face.
“For god’s sake,” she grouses before she leans over and presses her lips against Amber’s slightly parted ones, only waiting for Amber to kiss her back before she pulls away, rolling her eyes, and complaining about how she has to do everything and that Amber owes her because Krystal’s the girl in this relationship.
Amber finds herself smiling at the TV screen without really seeing as some lame axe murderer kills off yet another big-breasted teenager.
The butterflies in her stomach are most definitely not
from the suspenseful nature of the movie.