five times ki ssED. / cackles & slips off into the distance.
send me ‘five times kissed’ for a drabble
Ferris was trying to goad her into letting him borrow her geometry notes again. It always happened like this: Ferris skipped, Veronica took notes, Ferris came in the next day for said notes. And…okay so he usually got them.It didn’t have anything to do with his crooked grin and great hair or shiny eyes. Veronica was just a really good person. But this time…this time she ws gonna make him work for it. ❛ Nuh-uh, Beuller! You gotta catch me if you want these! And don’t forget, today we did quadrilaterals. ❜ Ferris cursed at her in mock anger and caught her waist as Veronica frantically waved the papers in the opposite direction, attempting to wiggle out of his grip. He gripped her back and flipped her around quickly and then——he was kissing her. It was quick, just a peck, and he snatched the papers from her hand and ran off, leaving Veronica dazed and confused…but grinning all the same.
It was a snow day, but school was only delayed around 2 hours or so, giving all Sherwood teens a little more wiggle room to get out of bed without tripping over their coffee mugs. Somehow Veronica still managed to wake up late, dashing out of the door in sweat pants, an old band t-shirt, and a messy bun. Ferris pulled up by her house and motioned for her to get into the car. She shrugged, taking the ride. She was then, of coursed, forced to listen to Ferris sing slightly off-key versions of all the latest top 20 hits, but Veronica would be lying if she said she didn’t join in after the 2nd one. When they pulled into the school driveway she started towards the school entrance, interrupted by a surreptitious cough. ❛ Excuse me, Sawyer, where’s my thank you present? ❜ Veronica rolled her eyes and pecked him on the forehead before running into the building, leaving him standing in the snow. Oh, how the tables turned.
Cheek kisses were their thing now. Their perfectly platonic thing. What were t h e y , though?
It’d been almost a year since any cheek kisses from Ferris. A year full of torture and trench coats, questionable hangover cures and gunpowder. A year in hell. Veronica somehow got a hold on some vodka, sloshing the bottle in a circle. She was wrecked and tired and broken and found herself stumbling to Ferris’s house, seeking some kind of comfort. She even threw pebbles at his window, like some cheesy John Hughes movie. He met her down below and, before even blinking, she kissed him full force, throwing everything she had into it. It was hot and passionate and messy. And very broken. He started to return it, and then stopped, reaching for the bottle still gripped tightly between Veronica’s trembling fingers and drawing it away from her. He took a swig before setting it down away from them and leading her inside. She passed out on his floor and he watched her, too good to let her kiss him again. Too good to let her regret it in the morning. Still, he kept the bottle on his mantle. For posterity.
He’d helped her through a lot. He was the only one who knew the entire truth of it, everything she’d done, everything she hadn’t, everything she wished she had. And he was perfect for it. It was her birthday, and he’d come over to her house after her parents had fallen asleep, asking to go on a walk. Throwing pebbles. The usual. Veronica grinned and slipped outside. They walked and talked and laughed and Veronica felt good for the first time in a long time. Their fingers had gotten tangled somewhere along the line and she wondered quietly how she’d missed it. So messy, so imperfect. So perfect for them. And so they kissed softly. It wasn’t heated, or desperate, or strangled. But it was somehow more intimate than before. Besides——they had all the time in the world.
