Claim: Wesley Wyndam-Pryce (Angel)/Dean Winchester (Supernatural)
Disclaimer: AtS belongs to Joss Whedon; Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke.
And then one day, as he predicted, she missed.
She re-used the laser cannon she’d had used on the first day. Part of him was disappointed; after all, he had warned her she would never hit him with it again. But she had made that critical and disappointing error, and now she was trapped in his arms against the wall.
“You missed,” he said.
“Did I?” she asked. It was then that he noticed how incredibly unafraid she was to be trapped in his arms, how incredibly smug she looked that she was there at all. “Maybe I got exactly what I was aiming for.” Then she raised one fine-boned hand and pulled his face closer. She tilted hers slightly and pressed those smiling lips to his, parted his lips with her tongue and swept it inside. She explored his mouth with the wonder of someone who had finally got to hold a treasured object. Reverently, gently, and yet there was an question there as well, as if she were begging for some response, some sign that the object wanted to be held. Then her hands grazed his flesh, his shoulders, his ribcage, his hips, asking pleading, do you, will you, can I?
No one had ever asked those questions before, or if they had, no one had ever asked them so eloquently. As his brain (always late to the party) pondered its answer to the question, his hands answered yes, and then his lips. Yes, they said. You can . . . . hold me.
Vegeta would not understand all the repercussions of being held for a long time. But now, as her hands were stroking, cupping, holding, he couldn’t imagine anything other than the immediacy of this moment, the urge to put himself into her hands . . . and take her into his.