Romanogers - Oneshots

checkmate (3)

12

Filtered sun was pale fire on the ground around them, speckled spotlights of gold ephemeral and quivering at the slightest breath of air, the leafy dome of their mellow glade alive with sporadic bursts of whispering. The afternoon was kind. They imagined it as dough, to be kneaded and plied and stretched out as though sheer force of will would stop dusk amassing her melancholy army from the west. Still just children, a skinny boy and the wiry girl basking in the last rays of untroubled youth. Imagination not yet given way to cynicism, even now able to scamper over the boundless planes of the mind, riding astride unicorns or combatting cowboys. Reality may appear as blemishes, unwanted perforations through which seep obscenities impossible to ignore. Turpitude and perversion, sickness and sanity. They painted over, as best they could, though corruption winded its filamentary tentacles around their brushes, weaved sin into their vivid murals. One day the stories won't be enough.

That day is not today.

Right now, the only thing on their minds was winning or losing. Polished wooden statuettes scraped over the checkered board, accompanied by taunting and teasing and laughing.
Steve was more concerned with losing. His pieces were fading fast. No sooner had he constructed a fortress around one rook, was Natasha sweeping another vulnerable knight into her lap. Her spoils of war nestled in the dip where her legs cross, safe against any disgruntled enemies who might reach to retrieve them. She was also looking at him funny, with scrutiny you only see when butchers analyse cuts of meat, like she was deciding the best way to slice and dice him. Steve assumed the whole thing was meant to psyche him out. The truth was a stretch more startling.

"Kiss me."
"Pardon?" His head snapped up.
"Kiss me," Natasha asked again, as if it was as simple as that.
"Why?"
"Just to see what it's like."

He wrinkled his nose. "Do you really want to?" His questions were genuine. Apparently, kissing was supposed to be a big deal. It always was in films, anyway. Why would Natasha want to do it with him, of all people? Steve's mother kept telling him his growth spurt was just around the corner, but in his opinion, it couldn't come quick enough. "Soon you'll be taller than me!", she would say. For now, he was stuck in the meat sack of a skinny asthmatic who was the third shortest in his class. Half the time he looked sallow and he had no muscles to speak of. Why would she want to kiss him?
She shrugged. "Yeah."

Steve sighed, but shuffled around the board on his knees anyway. His mother would probably be annoyed when they scuttled back inside at the dirt and grass stains smeared over his trousers, but maybe it would be worth it. Kissing was supposed to be nice, right?
Natasha's head tilted left, as did his. She tilted it right, and Steve did the same, like there was a mirror between him and she was his reflection. Impatient, Natasha put her hands either side of his face to centre him.

"I'll go right, you go left."
"My left or your left?"
She rolled her eyes. "Just do it before I get a crick in my neck."

Her eyes remained wide open as their lips touch. They shut them in the movies, but how were they supposed to know what to do or where to go if they did that? Her mouth might end up on his eye or something. Steve's eyes were nearly crossed, so he blinked to right them.
His lips were soft, like the down on an apricot, and were cool against hers. Once they were certain they were doing it right, she closed her eyes, followed by him. Steve could feel himself growing hot. His cheeks were sure to be redder than a traffic light.

After a few seconds, she pushed him away. Blushing profusely, he sat back, legs folded under him. "Well?"
Natasha didn't give him a straight response immediately, but looked him up and down with a funny expression on her face. Analytical.

"Maybe we should try french kissing."
"What's that?"
"I think you have to put your tongue in my mouth."
His recoil tweaked at her mouth. "Yuck! I'm not doing that!" There were some times where he couldn't tell if she was laughing at him or not.

"Why not?"
"Because...because our spit will get mixed up! It'll be all slimy!"
"It's supposed to be, isn't it?"
"Well I don't know!" Then he was sure she was laughing at him. Not unkindly, but his agitation clearly provided some sort of amusement.
"Let's just try it, come on, one more time." He frowned. "Well?"
"Alright, alright, the things I do for you."

Grinning, she forced her lips to purse, his cue to lean in again. She flicked her tongue along his lip tentatively, met in the middle by his as he opened his mouth to push it out. It did feel icky, but not that bad actually, if they didn't think about what they were actually doing. Her breath was sweet when she exhaled into his mouth a little, and Steve's stomach twisted, like he was on a rollercoaster.

"That's enough." She pulled away.
"Oh." Part of him wondered if he did something wrong. It would be silly and embarrassing to ask for another go, like she was a theme park ride, but he was actually quite enjoying it.
"What did you think?" She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.
"Um...it was okay, I guess."

"Yeah." Looking back down at the board, she grinned, swiping away his other knight with a bishop. "Check!"
"What?" He stares back, bewildered.
"You're in check, Steve. It's your turn."

He blinks and looks down dumbly at where his king is currently being threatened by her queen. "Oh yeah."

Hehe I like this one.

Question: Top 5 favourite music artists?

Taylor Swift, HAIM and Lorde are my jam.