I disavow all knowledge.
Feb. 6th, 2004 08:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pop_tartsI'm not posting any popslash wip's right now because I have about ten thousand. my 'discard' folder is eons bigger than my in progress folder - maybe it anyone's interested, I might later. but, instead, here's this.
--
Paris flops down, trying to keep the towel wedged firmly around her breasts while still laying spread eagle on the hotel duvet. They always get a suite; not the nicest suite, but one with a sitting room and one with a full kitchen. She doesn't know or care what her parents think about always demanding a suite. Paris likes to be able to make eggs in the morning if she wants to. They usually don't, but it's nice.
Nick is at the desk, listening to some track and making notes. When she finally rolls over, with a little tuck of the towel, he pulls his headphones off. "Good shower?"
Paris nods. They make sure to always get the duvet covers washed too. Owning the hotel has some nice perks. Paris makes sure that anyone who does it without complaining gets a raise. She tells him, "I need more mousse though."
Nick's pushed his notes away already, come over to sit on the bed. He starts playing with the hem of her towel. "we can go to that salon down the street."
Paris loves him because automatically he knows the only store in Beverly Hills that carries her mousse; she rolls over, on top of him, and plants her face in his stomach, arms wrapped around his waist. Into his tee shirt she says, "I was thinking about you yesterday. in, uh, in the limo."
"oh?"
She has to move her face or stop breathing. when Paris looks up, Nick's head is tilted down to look right at her, right into her eyes. "Yeah," and then she says, "I think, I dunno." She shrugs. "Something was on the radio, Sheryl Crow or something? and I was like, 'I'll call Nick because I miss him', except then I remembered you'd still be in the air and your phone would be off."
He smiles, and looks pleased. "Yeah?"
Paris nods. It's the truth. "but you were flying to see me."
"I was," he says. "of course I was."
--
Paris flops down, trying to keep the towel wedged firmly around her breasts while still laying spread eagle on the hotel duvet. They always get a suite; not the nicest suite, but one with a sitting room and one with a full kitchen. She doesn't know or care what her parents think about always demanding a suite. Paris likes to be able to make eggs in the morning if she wants to. They usually don't, but it's nice.
Nick is at the desk, listening to some track and making notes. When she finally rolls over, with a little tuck of the towel, he pulls his headphones off. "Good shower?"
Paris nods. They make sure to always get the duvet covers washed too. Owning the hotel has some nice perks. Paris makes sure that anyone who does it without complaining gets a raise. She tells him, "I need more mousse though."
Nick's pushed his notes away already, come over to sit on the bed. He starts playing with the hem of her towel. "we can go to that salon down the street."
Paris loves him because automatically he knows the only store in Beverly Hills that carries her mousse; she rolls over, on top of him, and plants her face in his stomach, arms wrapped around his waist. Into his tee shirt she says, "I was thinking about you yesterday. in, uh, in the limo."
"oh?"
She has to move her face or stop breathing. when Paris looks up, Nick's head is tilted down to look right at her, right into her eyes. "Yeah," and then she says, "I think, I dunno." She shrugs. "Something was on the radio, Sheryl Crow or something? and I was like, 'I'll call Nick because I miss him', except then I remembered you'd still be in the air and your phone would be off."
He smiles, and looks pleased. "Yeah?"
Paris nods. It's the truth. "but you were flying to see me."
"I was," he says. "of course I was."
