Characters/Pairing: Juliet O'Hara, Shawn Spencer, Shules
Disclaimers: Mine? Psh. I wish. But no. I'm not remotely that lucky.
Notes: This is the response to Jash's prompts because she correctly guessed where Yellow came from. :D
See? I told you that if you left Shules out of the equation, it would probably happen.
Oh, her prompts were: Juliet, breathing, grapefruit.
Hope you like it, Jash!
(Even if it's still not what you expected.)
Bonus points to anyone who can guess the origin of the title. :D
Summary: She turned her attention to her own breathing. Oh that was a mistake, she thought as her eyes drifted shut after a deep inhale.
“You're going to end up blind that way.”
The voice was soft and came from right next to her ear.
She had been so focused on her task that she hadn't realized she had company, let alone that he was so close to her.
But the shock that sent a cold shiver down her back only lasted a moment and had warmed to a fizz of pleasure before it reached the end of her spine.
“I am not going to go blind,” she said quietly, her eyes forward, but her attention directed behind her.
A low chuckle sent the shiver shooting back up her nerves like a rocket. It hit the intended target of her brain and turned a goodly portion of it to mush like any decent missile should.
She was going to be blinded at this rate.
With a sigh she set the spoon down.
“Fine. You do it.”
He didn't move around her like she expected—though why she expected he would she had no idea. Now that he had carte blanche to be this close to her he rarely wasted an opportunity.
It would drive her crazy—his invasion of her personal bubble—if she didn't love it so much.
He did unwrap his arms from where they'd crossed her stomach, the right reaching for the spoon, the left for the plate.
He didn't say anything, made no witty comments, his tongue kept inside his head for once, as he worked.
Which allowed her to become absurdly aware of him breathing.
They weren't deep breaths, not particularly loud, or strong.
Just a gentle puff whiffing back and forth past her ear, tickling the hairs on her neck and distracting her from watching him work because she had to focus on not shivering again.
She turned her attention to her own breathing.
Oh that was a mistake, she thought as her eyes drifted shut after a deep inhale.
He smelled of his shampoo, a clean but not quite definable scent that mingled with and was masked slightly by his hair gel—she knew that one because she was the one that had bought him a tub of the much-coveted Kangaroo paste for Christmas. It had prompted their first real kiss, an unexpected hug that turned into a lip lock that might have been accidental.
To this day she wasn't sure if Shawn's stammered apology and hasty excuses were true.
He leaned in and the mixed scents of his cologne and aftershave were brought along for the ride.
She bit her lip to keep from whimpering.
She'd asked what he used on their first date when she'd discovered it during the instructional portion of their mini-golf game and he'd deftly avoided answering, enjoying the way it drove her nuts. She still didn't know to this day because he guarded the secret as though it were classified top secret.
And despite being a detective she'd been unable to find out the answer through an independent search at numerous drug and department stores. Somehow the combination of the two made it impossible for her to pick them apart and discern which was which. And trying to think about it and describe it just left her frustrated and the salesgirls clueless.
Gus knew, but apparently Shawn held some pretty juicy blackmail on him—not a surprise with the life-long best friendship history they shared—because he refused to tell her.
And even if he didn't know he had the Supersmeller, so surely he could have found out for her.
His arm came up for a better angle and her next inhale brought her the smell of his deodorant, so strong because it was freshly applied after the shower he'd just finished.
She had mixed feelings about his deodorant.
Of course she didn't want him to reek of BO, but the smell of a little sweat, especially when it was freshly worked up from mowing the lawn or his morning jog, was a guilty favorite of hers.
His deodorant smelled nice, too, in its own way. It just wasn't her favorite part of the bouquet that she was now greedily inhaling—even as she tried to keep it discreet.
“There,” he murmured, adding the scent of his toothpaste which—unsurprisingly—made her want to kiss him and taste it. She liked her own brand, but she loved his. She'd tried using it, but it just wasn't the same.
“Done,” he said and she blinked and looked down.
She had only one thing to say: “I hate you.”
He chuckled again and brushed a kiss on her cheek.
She looked at the grapefruit, the slices neatly scooped out, skin intact, and without a single stray squirt of juice having tried to fulfill his dire warning.
Picking up a slice, she popped it in her mouth.
She really did hate him. He was just too talented for his own good.
He moved around the table and sat down and she covered her regret by popping another slice into her mouth, the tartness making her face pucker in response.
Her eyes flew open when she felt the pressure of his lips on hers, and found him grinning as he increased the pressure briefly, then pulled back.
“You know, pineapple has the same effect.”
“Does it?” she asked.
“We'll have to try that sometime.”
His smile widened and she smothered the urge to sigh with another slice.
She really did love him.
He was just too perfect for his own good.
Did I forget to put a diabetes/cavity warning? Oops! :D
Review please and thanks!