Title: Red Lips
Author: Hana (thedreamygirl)
Rating: Mature Rated
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Spoilers/Warnings: No spoilers as it's completely AU.
Summary:The first time he notices he wonders what they'll taste like, just like that without anything on her lips, except for his own. It's the first in a long line of thoughts that start to consume him before he can't think of anything else; least of all what they're supposed to be doing.
Author's Note: Written for the "You Want Me To Wear What?" Challenge at nhlovenest. I blame this story entirely on my Strictly Come Dancing obsession. I actually wrote it back in November but I only just realised I had forgotten to post it here. Also, to those of you waiting for updates on my other stories, I'm really sorry! I have been working on the updates for them and I have high hopes of updating two of them this month. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this.
It's the little things he notices first. Like the way she bites her bottom lip when she's worried and keeps removing and redoing her ponytail when she's trying to plan their routine.
In turn, they draw his eyes to other things; like how her t-shirt rises up when her toned arms are fixing her hair to reveal a strip of soft-looking peach skin, and how once she's bitten off her red lip gloss – she worries a lot – he can see her bare lips are this dusky shade of red, darker than any lipstick he's seen. The first time he notices he wonders what they'll taste like, just like that without anything on her lips, except for his own. It's the first in a long line of thoughts that start to consume him before he can't think of anything else; least of all what they're supposed to be doing.
What they're supposed to be doing is dancing, of course; thanks to his idiot brother-slash-agent's big idea of entering him in that reality show where celebrities have to dance with professionals that Nathan had never used to bother to watch. He did it to help increase his popularity, Lucas had said. Nathan wondered how popular he'd be when he was so terrible they voted him out the first week.
But that was before, before he'd met her, and suddenly he didn't want to go home quite so soon; even if it meant staying and making a fool of himself on live television. At least she'd be there always trying to make him look on the bright side, even when he didn't really think there was one.
She's just so different from anyone he knows that he isn't sure what to do around her, which is weird because he's always known what to do around girls. He found out it was a reputation she'd heard of when he confided his fear of going out first and she said his female fans would keep him in longer than that no matter how he danced.
But the weeks of training before the first show go by and his dancing doesn't seem to get much better, in fact, she points out one day that he's gotten worse and she bites her lip as she tries to figure out what's going wrong. He knows but he's pretty sure she would slap him if he told so he either shuts up or just mumbles something like, "I told you I can't dance," and she'll smile and say, "Everyone can dance!" like she did the first day they met when she told him how she used to be really clumsy before she started taking dance classes to make him feel less nervous.
So then they try again, but it doesn't make much of a difference. It's not that he doesn't try; he does because he remembers how she smiled at him that one time he got something right, her red lips stretching wide, but when she's standing so close to him he can't help noticing how shapely her curves are and it's impossible to concentrate when he's completely aware of how her breasts are right there.
He knows for sure that she's turned him into a horny teenager again when he realises that by stretching her arm to place her hand on his shoulder, her t-shirt gets pulled against the side of her body so that just for one delightful moment he can see the outline of her bra. The little he has for a brain tells him it must be a sports bra, but his imagination goes into overdrive picturing her wearing all sorts of lacy numbers, to the point that if their lower bodies accidentally brushed she would find out exactly why her latest pupil was having such a hard time learning the steps.
He's surprised when she doesn't shout at him for being such a terrible pupil, but not her, not Haley with her never-ending optimism and enthusiasm in everything he sees her do. He can't help but wonder how enthusiastic she would be in everything else; an image that haunts him not only in the studio but every night in his bedroom when he dreams she's there with him only to wake up alone again.
One afternoon she sits him down and tries to explain how their dance is meant to tell a story and it's supposed to be passionate and he has to act it as well as dance it – or try and dance it, he adds to himself. The acting part is strangely easy for him; he's used to stealing glimpses at her when they dance but from the moment he makes eye contact with her, he doesn't want to stop. The rich chocolate brown is mesmerising – he knows it sounds totally lame even just saying it to himself but he can't think of another word for it – and it's probably just his over-active imagination but it feels like they're almost inviting him closer and he wonders if she really would slap him if he kissed her like he always wants to.
That time, when they've finished the dance she tells him his acting is good, because Haley always manages to throw in a positive with all the bad, to which he replies she made it easy. She smiles then, differently this time, a shy smile as a blush colours her cheeks. She changes the subject back to his steps, brushing it off as if it's just a line, which Nathan realises it would be if it was with any other girl, but everything about Haley is so real he can't be any other way with her.
He's always late to their practices, or at least she's always there before him, so one day he decides to skip what has become his regular cold shower and show up early with breakfast for both of them. He knows he'll never be able to make a good impression on her with his dancing but when she walks in and her red lips smile at the sight of him and bagels – later he wonders if maybe it was just the bagels – he's pleased, probably more than he should be. But he doesn't have time to dwell on it because soon they're practicing again and it takes all his effort to remember the steps and concentrate only on her face, although later in the day her various other attractions will inevitably call forth his attentions.
By the time the first show arrives he's well aware that still can't really dance even though Haley keeps saying he's so much better than he was when they began. He feels like pointing out he was so bad then he couldn't get any worse but she's in such a good mood her ponytail is swishing with excitement and he doesn't want to spoil it.
She tells him that he'll feel different once he's been through wardrobe and is all dressed up; he doesn't really believe that but she's right. Once he's in his suit and had his hair all gelled down and been put through the awful process of wearing make-up he does feel different, although he's not really sure it's a good thing. The suit is okay, but he wants to scratch his face or better yet wash off both the make-up and excess gel that's making him look like some thirteen year old school-boy. He's just about to give in to that impulse when there's a knock on the door and Haley walks in. She tells him he looks good, but it takes him a few minutes to return the compliment.
It's not that she doesn't look good, she always does, but she looks so different that it's almost strange at first. He's never seen her in anything other than sweatpants and loose t-shirts or tank tops with a hint of lip gloss that never lasts a whole day and now she's standing before him in a long gold gown with her face covered in make-up; they've painted her lips a garishly bright red and her golden-brown locks are pinned up perfectly without a single hair out of place. She looks stunning but she doesn't look like his Haley whose hair is always falling in her face and is just as graceful off the dance floor as he is on it.
Once the cameras start rolling and they're out there with everyone else she keeps rubbing his arm soothingly because she knows he's kind of freaking out; Haley always knows. When it's finally their turn to walk onto the dance floor he's frantically going through all the steps in his head, partly because it would be humiliating to fall flat on his face in front of everyone but also because he doesn't want to disappoint her.
They dance and it's all a blur to Nathan; he's too caught up in trying to get some part of his body to move in time with the rhythm that he doesn't have time to think about the move itself. It takes a while for it to sink in – the music was still ringing in his ears so he didn't really hear what the judges told them and he has no idea what he said to the camera – but they didn't really do all that badly. They were far from elegant, but they weren't terrible either; certainly not the worst, which Haley, always finding the bright side of everything, relishes once they're finally given a few minutes to be alone backstage together.
She squeals as she gives him a hug that's much too short for his liking and congratulates him. Still breathing a little heavily from the exertion, he tells her it was all her doing at which she just beams and says happily, "Didn't I tell you the outfit would help you get into character? I knew you could do it!" He notices that part of her fringe has come loose from her up-do, falling in front of her eyes, and she's chewed off most of her lipstick; the slightest hint of bright red remains but she looks like his Haley again so he can't help but smile back.
His hand reaches out instinctively to tuck that lock of hair behind her ear, lingering there perhaps a bit longer than it should. Her cheeks grow rosier than the make-up department painted them and suddenly Nathan isn't noticing her brilliant smile, but the slender curve of her neck and the way her chest keeps rising and falling as she recovers her breath.
She turns away from him, probably to go join everyone else like they're supposed to, since filming of the live show is still taking place, but he just can't help himself this time. For whatever reason, as her right hand touches the doorknob, he grabs her left and pulls her in for a kiss.
His lips press insistently against her tightly closed ones for a few moments before the shock finally wears off and she slowly, tentatively starts to kiss him back.
But Nathan has no patience for slow or romantic. His hand curls in her hair as he tilts her head so he can kiss her more firmly. He takes her upper lip between his, before moving to suck her fuller bottom lip and finally delving into her sweet, warm mouth.
He wastes no time exploring the wet crevices that lay open to him, almost as if afraid she's about to stop him. Yet her hands grip his shoulders, not in protest but in acquiescence, her body growing supple beneath his, instinctively ready to bend to his every whim.
Before either of them realise, they're out of breath once more and breaking apart to swallow much-needed air gives both the time to start thinking about what they just did. Nathan starts to worry when he sees her biting her lips, too unsure to tell himself she's simply trying to taste his once more. He doesn't know what to say so he waits, more nervous by the minute, until she finally whispers, "We can't tell anyone."
He lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding as he smiles with relief. He pulls her back to him, about to steal another kiss, when he notices she's suddenly started giggling.
"What?"
Amusement twinkles in her eye before she whispers, "Your lips are red."