tiptoe39 | [fanfic] 30 First Kisses: Kiss 10 (rated PG)

Title: 30 First Kisses - Kiss #10
Author:

tiptoe39
Rating: PG for one mildly bad word.
Summary: In which

tiptoe39 proves that she has missed her calling and should write dumb articles for teen magazines.

This is the tenth of 30 possible ways Matt and Mohinder could share their first kiss, written for

30_kisses. The prompt/theme was "#10" (10ban). Previous kisses are here.

"It's a proud moment in our lives," Mohinder announced as he and Molly came in the door. "Our little girl has bought her very first teen magazine."

"Uh-oh," Matt said. "I hope it's appropriate?"

"I did have a look before allowing her to buy it, yes." Mohinder rolled his eyes. The magazine was covered with photos of fresh-faced girls and exuberant headlines in bright colors, and it seemed to have replaced Molly's face in that prominent spot above her neck. "Ooh," came a voice from behind the pages.

"What are you reading about, pumpkin?" Matt strode over, peeked behind the magazine to make sure there was still a girl there. He wished he had X-ray vision to see if the girl still had a brain.

"10 Ways to Tell If Your Guy Friend Wants to Be More Than Friends," she announced.

"What guy friend are you talking about?" Matt looked suddenly shocked. "Do you know anything about this?" He looked up at Mohinder.

("Number One. He goes to you when he needs to know something," Molly read aloud. "Guys usually go to their guy friends for help with school and home. If he's asking you a question, it's because he wants an excuse to talk to you.")

"Don't look at me," Mohinder shrugged, grinning. "I just bought the magazine."

"Right. When she runs away to stalk some High School Musical star and starts wearing makeup to the dinner table, it's your fault."

Molly sat down at the table and kept reading, to herself this time.

("Number Two: He blames you for everything that goes wrong in his life. It's annoying, but that means he thinks you're an important part of his life.")

"Oh, I nearly forgot," Mohinder said. "They were selling these little-- bobbleheads, I think they're called? You put them on the end of your pencil. I thought it might make you smile when you have all that paperwork to do." He rummaged in his pocket and brought out a tiny plastic policeman on the end of a coil of wire. "Consider it an early Christmas present. Or a late birthday present."

("Number Three: He gives you little gifts. We're not talking roses and flowers, here. But if he has something for you, it means he is thinking about you even when you're not there.")

"It's cute." Matt took the trinket. "Thanks. Although we do a lot of our reports by computer these days..."

"Ah." Mohinder's face fell slightly.

"No, it's nice of you," Matt said. "I'll definitely keep it around. I'll put it next to that weird rock you found, the one that looks like an M shape." He moved into the pantry and opened the refrigerator.

Mohinder followed him. "You still have that? I'd forgotten all about it."

("Number Four: He keeps your gifts. You might have thought it was just a little something, but to him, it's a lot more.")

"You want a sandwich or something?" Matt asked, rummaging through the fridge. "Looks like we have some smoked turkey left."

"Have you learned to eat healthy overnight, then?" Mohinder raised an eyebrow.

In answer, Matt raised a wrapped cut of pastrami. "I'm talking about for you, dumbass."

"Right. Sure, then." Mohinder flipped open a magazine he'd bought for himself. "Why not. But would you mind putting a little..."

"...honey mustard on it, right?"

("Number Five: He remembers your likes and dislikes. Guys change what they like from day to day. So to keep in mind what you like is a huge stretch for him. It shows he cares.")

"This is fascinating," Mohinder murmured, flipping a page after licking the mustard off his fingers. For whatever reason, he and Matt had elected to stay in the pantry, just leaning against the counters as they ate.

"What's it about?" said Matt through a biteful of pastrami sandwich.

"Oh, nothing you'd care about," Mohinder dismissed it. "Just some neurological studies. How people intuit other people's moods. It's all synapses and seratonin."

Matt came over, looked over his shoulder. "It sounds kind of like me. Maybe I just have too many synapses and that's why I can read minds."

"It's a novel theory," Mohinder laughed.

"No, seriously," Matt insisted. "It sounds interesting. Really, the way we understand each other just has to do with a bunch of chemicals?"

("Number Six: He shows an interest in what you're interested in. If Mr. Football is suddenly showing up at the school plays, it could be he's discovered his inner drama king. Or he could just want to play Romeo to your Juliet.")

"I-- I don't know about just," Mohinder said, blushing a little. "It may be that there's more to it than that, but the chemicals are the way our brains send the m-message."

"You just stuttered," Matt observed.

"I-- I did?" Mohinder looked up from the page, and his blush deepened at Matt's incisive stare. "I just did it again, didn't I?" He brought a hand to his mouth.

"That's really funny," Matt grinned. "I don't think I've ever heard you stutter before."

("Number Seven," Molly read, wandering over to the couch and diving onto it headfirst. "He acts a little dumber or a little smarter than he used to. He feels self-conscious around you, because he's just realized his gal pal is actually a gal. So the way he acts around you might change, just a little.")

"I used to. As a child. Just a little bit. But I learned that in order to get my father's attention, I needed to speak quickly," Mohinder admitted. "So I got over it very quickly. Still, it slips out sometimes."

"How did you get over it?" Matt said with a touch of envy. "I wish I could figure out how to get over my problem."

"There are methods for managing dyslexia," Mohinder noted. "If you like, I'm happy to help you find some. All you need to do is ask." He patted Matt's hand a few times, and then abruptly became aware of what he was doing and looked up, his eyes locking with Matt's. His hand fell onto the counter, but the edge of his little finger was still grazing Matt's skin.

("Number Eight: He finds ways to touch you." Molly giggled herself silly at that one before reading on. "Now we're not talking hugs and kisses, here-- you wouldn't need our help figuring him out if that's what he was doing. But a slap on the back, even a 'Guess Who' with his hands on your eyes... they're hints that he wants to make with the snuggling next time.")

Matt managed to speak first. "Geez, Mohinder, someone could get the wrong idea." His face was beet red, but he was smiling.

"What? People will say we're in love?" Mohinder grinned back.

"Hell, half the parents of the kids in Molly's class think we are already." Matt's heart was in his throat and flapping like a hummingbird, but he managed to keep his calm.

"Well, not to overuse my daily quota of song titles, but let's give them something to talk about," Mohinder raised his eyebrows suggestively, but he was still grinning.

(Molly sighed dreamily as she went on. "Number Nine: He tells you so. Some guys will joke about dating you, but what he's really doing is testing the waters. How would you react if he was serious? That's what he wants to know.")

"Mm-hm. And if I said OK?" Matt could keep this up as long as he could; he wouldn't be the first to crack.

"I'd say, who are you and what have you done with Matt Parkman?" Mohinder smiled, but he turned away, and in that moment, there was a moment of clarity like a thunderclap in Matt's mind.

(Molly whispered, rather than spoke, the last one. "Number Ten: You like him, too.")

"But it is me," Matt heard himself say. "And I'm saying OK."

Mohinder stopped. He turned a few degrees. Then a few more, eyes on the floor. Then, daring to look up, facing Matt, seeing his fists clenched and his face pale. The whisper barely left his lips. "Are you serious?"

Matt nodded stiffly. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he said hoarsely. "But yeah, I think I am."

"But--" Mohinder took a step forward and then stopped. "We were just joking around just now--"

"I know, I know we were," said Matt. "But I don't think we really were. That is, I don't think I really was."

Another step forward. Eyes to the ground, then locking with Matt's again, a hint of a smile on the face. And a demure voice. "No. I don't think I really was, either."

("Believe it or not, if you have started to like your guy friend, more likely than not the feeling is mutual. Love doesn't just happen to one person; it happens between two people. So if you think there's something there, don't just look for the signs. Make the first move, and even if you haven't won his heart yet, you might just start to melt him by telling him how you feel.")

Matt stretched out a hand. Mohinder took it. Slowly, like dancers, they drew together. The hand on Mohinder's face was warm but trembling. He thought he might melt into it like so much brown sugar on a flame. Two pulses beat in his ears.

Was it himself or Mohinder who thought it? Maybe it was both. But the thought, the last thought before their lips met, was This is really happening. And then it really was. And there was joy, so much joy in that kiss that Matt wasn't sure he hadn't learned to fly. Because he felt absolutely weightless. As for Mohinder, he thought back to the article he'd been reading and marveled at its real-life application. In that moment he knew, without a doubt, that he'd always wanted this; and he knew as well that Matt had felt the same way.

("Hmm. I like Number Ten best," Molly said, and skipped down the hall to her room.)

:end:

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

visiblemarket.livejournal.com

("Hmm. I like Number Ten best," Molly said, and skipped down the hall to her room.)

I've got to say I'm with Molly one this one...this is my favorite of all of these so far.

Very funny, well executed, adorable...all out great stuff.

And imagining Matt with his troll eraser at the police station? Priceless.

From:

the drama llama

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