five times kissed (thenightmakers- platonic w/n Whetlen of course, if thats ok!)
RUNNING 5TMSKISD.EXE PLEASE STAND BY.
( kiss one )
The first kiss isn’t soft. In fact, Jinx hardly wants to give it at all. It comes on the heels of Whetlen’s insistent thought-speak, poking and prodding at the poor orin that he absolutely must know what a kiss was. He’s traipsing on into the third paragraph of his rationalization before Jinx tugs the andalite down and smashes her lips into his cheek. Hard.
Whetlen spends the next hour elaborating on how violent a display of affection it is.
—
( kiss two )
Whetlen thinks he’s the smartest creature in the galaxy. Surely if he could smile, there’d be a cheshire grin stretched across his bushy cheeks. But instead, his eyes beam, tail held proudly. It takes everything he has not to practically pronk with joy.
He was going to do it; honest to stars, initiate a kiss ! He’d read every book, every manual, and had even eavesdropped on the occasional conversation to feed his silly studies. Jinx is poring over a market stall when a pair of wiry arms loop under her own, attempting to pull the orin up to chest level before a fist collides with his jaw.
The two leave the station that night, Whetlen’s jaw sore, Jinx’s pride suffering much of the same.
—
( kiss three )
She’s tired of his constant prodding. Their camaraderie is something she’s come to enjoy, but even an andalite as unassuming Whetlen could come on too strongly sometimes.
So she takes that night to put his questions to rest, extrapolating upon the intricacies of affection and human contact. Whetlen’s questions are endless, but by the end of it, he leans forwards and smushes his face up against hers in a vain attempt to mimic what she’d spent the last hour teaching him through verbal explanation alone.
Jinx can’t help but laugh at the feeling of his cold nose against her cheek. A palm reaches up to smear the moisture from her skin. ❝ Close enough, ya big furball. ❞
—
( kiss four )
They’d become good at this. It wasn’t the first time the pair had found themselves in hot water, of course, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The two had become actors of sorts, parroting the roles they’d managed to pick out amongst the swath of intergalactic inhabitants they saw daily.
Now they find themselves in the throes of some meeting. A group dedicated to interspecies relations and the details of making their relationships work … in more ways than one. None of them showed any particular interest in the subject, of course, but oh, were the patrons around them loaded. If there was anything they’d learned, it was that wealthy and eccentric aliens often had deep pockets.
So they lock arms, chest to chest with Whetlen down on his knees as they try to really sell the deal. Jinx presses a kiss to the only place she can reach – his shoulder, and the crowd around them coos, understanding the limitations that came with such wildly differing species dynamics.
They joke later over a dinner of tram station food and snacks, pockets full and consciences clear.
—
( kiss five )
Adventuring wasn’t always fun and games. That had never been so achingly apparent as it was currently. Whetlen had long stooped down, belly brushing the floor and legs politely folded under himself. Jinx lays against him, sprawled but inert. It wasn’t often for them to sleep this close, but crampt ship quarters bred the need to cluster together against one another.
Jinx was quiet. Unusually so. He knew why, of course. She swore up, down, and sideways, she’d seen another orin. An orin she swore she recognized, at that. But they’d slipped away, into the throng of people that populated the last station the duo had found themselves at. The disappointment practically radiated off of her, and part of Whetlen wilted at the look on her face.
After a moment of hesitance, his hand outstretches, taking Jinx’s into his own. He intertwines his multiple fingers with her claws to the best of his ability, quiet. The air is dead-quiet, devoid of thought-speak though a warm feeling of comfort washes over the area under the andalite’s will. There’s a shifting as his tail comes to encircle them, the butt of his palm bumping up against Jinx’s own. She relaxes under him, too proud to say anything though Whetlen’s eyes remain trained on her.
With her head pressed against her friend’s side, Jinx wonders if this is how andalites must kiss.
