Writing Class

“Think he’s going to call again?” Miranda asks, closing Finn’s front door behind her. Vincent called Finn’s phone three times on the drive back to Finn’s place. The first time was to report that Sarah did not take the polka dots well. The last two calls just…well they made no sense.

“I turned the ring off. I’ll have many messages in the morning. None will make sense, what with his accent getting thicker and thicker the more he drinks,” Finn says with a laugh. He locks the door and throws himself down on the couch, laying his arm over his eyes. He kicks his shoes off, one at a time, flinging them against the wall. Next to go are his socks, which also end up getting flung against the wall. “Oi! Bloody hell, answer yer bleedin’ phone ye git…” Finn trails off with a mock British accent.

Miranda smiles, not surprised that Finn can fake a British accent rather well. He’s known Vincent for a long time, sooner or later it had to rub off on the guy.

“Okay, you have a great sleep, I had fun,” Miranda says, patting Finn’s foot.

He sits up on his elbows with his eyebrows raised, “Is that supposed to be your departing cue?”

“That it was,” she agrees with a nod.

“Well I do not accept.”

“You don’t accept?” she asks incredulously, a small smile creeping up. She walks around to stand in front of the couch, looking down at him.

“That’s right,” he sits up all the way, turning to face her. He sets his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to stand between his knees. With a sigh, he rests his forehead on her stomach, sliding one hand from her hip to the back of her thigh.

She can’t resist responding to his touch. She rests a hand on his head, running her fingers through his gravity-defying hair. A shudder goes through her body when she hears him moan softly against her stomach. Just hearing him respond to her touch is almost too much.

“Finn, you’ve been drinking,” she mutters, trying to grasp on to anything to keep her level-headed.

“Do you really think I’m drunk?” he asks, tilting his head to look up at her.

She feels like he’s testing her somehow, just the way he asked the question. “Maybe a little.”

“Okay,” he says simply. He takes his hands off her and stands up. He steps around her and goes to the kitchen, grabbing three bottles of water from the refrigerator. He doesn’t seem hurt or upset by her answer, so she has no idea what he’s thinking right now. She stays where she is and watches him, waiting for him to say something.

He glances at her before opening the refrigerator again, this time grabbing a Diet Coke. He tucks some water bottles under his arms, and returns back to the couch. Setting the Diet Coke down on the small end table, he sits down and lines the water bottles up on the floor beside him.

“Sit,” he says. She does as he says with a smile. Opening the first bottle of water, he takes a drink and screws the cap back on. “I didn’t drink all that much for me. High tolerance. But to make you feel better, I’ll drink water. However, to think how you’re missing a prime opportunity to take advantage of my slightly inebriated state sickens me.”

“Like I’d have to take advantage of you,” she says sarcastically.

“Are you saying that I want carnal knowledge of your supple form?” Finn asks innocently.

Miranda doesn’t answer, not feeling fully comfortable bantering for too long about sex with Finn. He never lets anything drop and she should know that by now. But every time the time comes around, she can’t resist baiting him. Instead, she just shoots him a ‘shut it’ look and sinks down into his couch. She thanks him for the soda and opens it, taking a sip.

“So I take it I’m not going home yet,” Miranda says.

“That is correct.”

------

Miranda leans forward, not being able to contain her laughter any longer. For the past three hours, they have been watching the first season of \'The Office\'. Finn is currently doing his best Ricky Gervais as David Brent impersonation, which is causing Miranda to suffocate with laughter.

“We need to somehow contact the guy, he needs to see this,” Miranda laughs, covering her mouth with her fingers.

“You think this is good, wait till you see Vincent’s Brent dance.”

“He does the David Brent dance? I have that as my screen saver,” Miranda laughs. She can’t wait to ask Vincent to do it for her, already being able to picture it in her mind.

“Yes, it is pure art in motion,” Finn puts the last DVD away in its case and returns the box set to its rightful place in his movie collection. He returns to the couch, throwing his body down and hooks one leg over Miranda’s lap.

“So I have ingested all of the water, am I sober enough for you?”

“Well I don’t know…I mean after that…it’s anybody’s guess.” Actually, Miranda thinks that he’s been sober for a while. His voice doesn’t have the slightest trace of a slur in it and not once has he come on to her.

Finn throws his head back and laughs at her answer. Lifting his head back up, he asks, “So did you have fun tonight?”

Nodding her head, she says, “Yes I did. Meeting your friends gave me some insight.”

“Oh really?” he asks with interest, folding his arms in front of his chest.

Pushing his leg off, she turns sideways to face him and brings her feet up onto the couch. She wiggles her bare feet underneath his bent leg and wraps her arms around her knees. “Well…Marcus is your inner shy guy. Krissy is your fun-loving free-spirit side. And Vincent is your…sex-loving and very outgoing side.”

Finn nods his head and shifts his leg to allow her feet to slide all the way underneath, “That actually makes some sense.”

“So tell me something,” Miranda requests.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything. A secret.”

“You want me to tell you a secret? It wouldn’t be much of a secret than would it?”

Miranda sighs, “Doesn’t have to be a ’take to my grave’ secret. Just something that I don’t know.”

Finn scratches his head and moves his hand to rub his chin afterwards, “Okay. When I was…I don’t know, maybe sixteen, my mom walked in on me pleasuring myself.”

“That’s not so bad. That happens to lots of boys,” Miranda says, making her disappointment with his answer known.

“Yes it does. However, a) you have never met my mother and b) it was to a picture of a friend of hers. And again, you’ve never met my mother.”

Miranda hides her mouth with her hand, somewhat trying to hide her smile even though the fact that she’s hiding her mouth makes it obvious that she is smiling.

“Are you laughing at me?” Finn asks, astonishment lacing his voice.

“Nooo…never,” she tries to say it as seriously as she possibly can. It just comes out sounding terribly forced, which almost makes her laugh in of itself.

“I think you are. How ‘bout you tell me something now,” Finn says.

“Well I’d tell you about my masturbatory mishaps, I just don’t have any,” she says sweetly.

“You’re being a smart ass Rand,” Finn warns.

“Never,” she denies, wiping the smile from her face the best she can. She’s enjoying this just as much as Finn appears to be. In reality, she’s just trying to buy herself some time, having no idea what to tell him.

“Come on, answer.”

“I have been to an Nsync concert,” she says with a sigh. Knowing that this will definitely satisfy him, she bites her lip to further the ashamed appearance.

Finn doesn’t respond, he just stares at her blankly. Seconds tick by before he breathes in deeply and opens his mouth to speak. He then closes his mouth. Miranda can’t stop herself from laughing at his reaction.

“I went with a friend. She was a die-hard. Poor lost soul.”

“I don’t believe you,” he says simply.

“What?”

“I think you wanted to go and now you’re just trying to cover it up,” he says, jabbing an accusatory finger in her face.

“And go to that much effort? Hardly,” she scoffs.

Finn yawns loudly, stretching his arms above his head. Miranda glances at the clock, stunned to see how late it actually is. She slowly disengages herself and stands up. Looking down at Finn, she gets the urge to ruffle his hair. She does just that, completely sending his hair into disarray. Even though that’s not saying much.

He doesn’t move his head away, he just lets her mess with his hair. She pulls her hand away and he asks, “Where you going?”

“Home. To sleep.” She walks around to the back of the couch, grabbing her shoes and socks from the floor.

“Sleep here,” Finn suggests lightly, watching her.

She can’t hide the ‘yeah right’ look and ignores him.

Finn notices and gets up on his knees to lean over the back of the couch, pulling her shoes out of her hands. “I’m serious. Nothing sexual. I’m not going to jump you without your permission. I’ll sleep on the couch. You can have my bed.”

Miranda considers his proposal, making sure not to look him in the eye. She knows that if she does, she’d agree in a heartbeat with whatever he proposed. She knows that he wouldn’t do anything without her complete and utter participation. The person who she really doesn’t trust is herself. She can’t take it when he turns on the charm. Every rational bone in her body just disappears. Her rational side doesn’t want to drive all the way home.

“Okay, but I am not taking your bed,” she finally consents, pointing a finger at him.

He quickly leans forwards and captures her finger between his teeth, his mouth stretched in a wide smile. She’s suddenly hit with a scene from ‘Captives’ and feels herself flush. She doesn’t try and take her finger back, instead she just waits for him to release it.

“This is the type of behavior that will alter my decision,” she warns. He opens his mouth allowing her to take her finger back, which she does so swiftly.

He drops her shoes and socks to the floor and gets up from the couch. Miranda follows him into his bedroom, watching him look through drawers. He pulls out a pair of flannel pajama pants and tosses them on the bed behind him. Opening another drawer, he pulls out two shirts, holding them up for her decision.

When she doesn’t say anything, Finn explains, “You need something to sleep in, yes? So choose.”

One shirt is white with a worn graphic of James Dean sitting up in a coffin on the front and the other shirt is grey with ‘I’m Over Here’ written in red marker on the front. It’s a tough decision, but she ends up pointing to James Dean; which he tosses on the bed to join the pants.

“Go ahead and change, I’m going to take a shower,” Finn leaves, only to pop his head back in a second later. “I’m sorry, did you want a shower?”

Miranda isn’t so sure if he’s asking her to join him or not. He has that damn insufferable smirk on his face. She just shakes her head and watches him shut the door behind him.

She loves Finn’s bedroom. It has a very comfortable feel to it, not to mention the very agreeable bookshelf. He has a small corner table with a notebook computer resting on top, she has yet to see him use it. She uses her computer constantly. That’s the only thing she writes on. Finn is the type who prefers using a pen and paper. He explained it as being able to directly manipulate the story. With poetry she can do longhand, but with long stories she just doesn’t have the patience.

One thing about his bedroom that she finds rare is the fact that he doesn’t have a TV set up in it. He doesn’t have a stereo in it. He has those in the living room and that’s enough for him.

--------------

She’s been sitting on his bed, waiting for Finn to finish with his shower. At one point she could here him singing ‘Eye Of The Tiger’. The pants he gave her are a little long, but that doesn’t mean anything. The fact that they have a drawstring fixed the ‘too big’ problem. The shirt fits her fine, a little big, but not too much. It’s probably a little small for Finn, but she can’t imagine that stopping him from wearing it.

Getting up, she grabs one of the pillows off his large bed and takes a blanket from the storage box from underneath his bed. She leaves his room, blanket dragging behind her, and sets up on the couch. She turns the kitchen light off, next turning the living room light off, and makes herself comfortable on the couch.

Minutes later she hears the bathroom door open. She quickly turns over onto her side, facing the back of the couch and away from the hallway. She pulls the blanket up over her shoulder, fisting it underneath her chin.

She can’t help but smile when she hears him walk down the hallway after noticing his room empty. Shutting her eyes tight, she pretends to be asleep. He groans, “What do you think you’re doing Rand?”

She doesn’t answer, keeping her breathing steady.

“I know you aren’t asleep.”

She hears him walk closer, stopping to stand over her. He doesn’t say anything when he kneels on the ground in front of the couch. He peels the blanket back, pulling it from her hands. She feels air hit the area of her back where the shirt rode up a little. Curses are going through her head at that small little fact. She can practically see the smile growing on his face.

She prepares herself for his touch, knowing that he won’t be able to stop himself. He may know her freakishly well, but she knows some things about him too. She manages to only respond with her face, which he luckily can’t see, when he flattens the palm of his hand against the exposed skin of her back.

She doesn’t expect his next action, and responds by jerking her whole body. He slips his fingers underneath the shirt and slides his hand up the center of her back. After the jerk she freezes, not knowing how to react.

“I win,” he mutters, sliding his hand back down and breaking contact with her back.

She turns over onto her other side, glaring at him, “Not fair.”

“What wasn’t fair about it?” he asks, leaning back on his heels.

“You weren’t supposed to do that.”

“Only because you didn’t expect me to do that.”

“I hate you.”

“Yes I believe you do.”

“Now leave me alone so I can sleep,” Miranda pulls the blanket back up and rolls onto her back.

“I thought we agreed to different sleeping situations?”

“I don’t recall agreeing to that. Even if I had, I can change my mind. A woman can do that. You can’t hold me accountable for things I say in the past.”

“Sounds like a cop out.”

“Trying to sleep Finn,” annoyance apparent in her voice.

“Fine.” He gets to his feet and leaves. Miranda didn’t notice till now that he was shirtless. A part of her is thankful for that.

-----------

Hours pass and all Miranda can do is toss and turn. She can’t sleep and is growing more and more frustrated. The couch is comfortable enough, it’s not too hot or cold. She’s tired. She just can’t actually sleep. She can’t shut her brain off. She’s been thinking about why she’s staying detached from Finn. Going through all possible reasons and they just can’t stand up on their own.

She knows that Finn is attracted to her and she’s pretty damn sure that he wants something with her. She may not know exactly what that something is, but she knows it’s there. She wants something from him to. She wants to be with him and she doesn’t know why she’s stopping herself anymore. The miscommunication about his ex was a beginning reason why she held back, it scared her. She’s never been the type to date around, she’s never had tons of boyfriends. Another reason was his detachment, he never seemed to open up willingly. But now, with introducing her to his friends, it makes her think that he’s comfortable enough to share his life with her. She’s not expecting a big commitment from him, she’s just tired of holding out.

With the thought of catching him off guard, she decides to quit pulling away. Stop changing the focus to sarcasm and humor. He catches her by surprise constantly, she wants to begin doing the same to him.

With a huff, she kicks the blanket off and gets up from the couch. She’s tired of not being able to sleep. She steps quietly to Finn’s bedroom door and notices a small amount of light coming from underneath it. Knocking lightly, she waits for his ‘come in’ before opening the door.

He’s stretched out on his bed, the sheet crumpled on the floor, and reading a book. The small lamp creates a soft glow, only shedding real light for the surrounding area.

“Hey,” he says, laying the open book down on his bare chest.

“I can’t sleep,” she walks in and perches on the end of his bed.

“I never sleep.”

“What are you reading?”

“The Stranger,” he slides over a little bit and pats the area next to him in a motion for her to get comfortable. She takes his offer and lays down on her stomach next to him, resting her head on her folded arms.

“Read to me?”

Glancing at her for a moment, he asks, “You read it before?”

“Yeah.”

He picks the book up off his chest and begins to read where he left off:

“I knew that I had shattered the harmony of the day,
the exceptional silence of a beach where I’d been happy.
Then I fired four more times at the motionless body where
the bullets lodged without leaving a trace. And it was
like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness.”


Miranda has read this book multiple times, the first time when she was fourteen. She hadn’t really understood it all at that time, but there are a lot of things you don’t understand at fourteen.

A few more pages later, Finn shuts the small book and sets in on the nightstand underneath the lamp. Miranda quickly gets to her feet and walks to his bookshelf, looking for another book. He read to her and now she wants to read to him.

“What are you doing?” Finn props himself up on his elbows.

“Finding a book so I can read to you,” she says simply.

“No.”

Miranda turns around, brows raised, “Why not?”

“You’re already wearing my clothes, now you want to read to me?”

At Miranda’s ‘so what’ look, he adds, “Unless you want me to take my clothes off you, you probably shouldn’t read to me.”

Yet again, he surprises her. She wasn’t expecting that answer. She turns fully around and scans his body. She doesn’t think she’s ever been this attracted to someone before. He’s absolutely gorgeous. She almost wants to test him and see if he’d actually try and go through with it. She blindly grabs a book, holding in out in front of her.

“So you don’t want me to read…” glancing down at the book, she continues, “Sand and Foam.”

He sits up, giving her a warning look, but he doesn’t stand. Miranda smiles and slowly opens the book, watching him. She glances down at the open book and reads the first line she sees, “Half of what I say is meaningless; but I say it so that the other half may reach you.”

She closes the book and looks up at him. Finn hasn’t moved, but he’s now wearing a very satisfied look.

“Come here.”

She hesitantly walks towards him, stopping a few feet away, not knowing what he’s planning on doing. He stands up but doesn’t step forward to fill the empty space, instead he tells her to come closer. She does so, stopping a foot away from him.

“What?” she asks, happy with herself for defying him to begin with.

“You are punished.”

She can’t stop the scoff, not letting on that she’s noticed that he’s looking at her like she’s his prey. “And how am I punished exactly?”

“Kiss me.” He says it with such finality and self-confidence; like he knows without a doubt that she will. She doesn’t answer for a second, making sure that he’s serious.

“That’s my punishment? You really don’t have any faith in your ability to attract the opposite sex do you? Using kissing you as a punishment,” she taunts.

He shakes his head once, his smirk growing, “The outcome isn’t the punishment. Your punishment is the first move.”

In her head Miranda is chanting that she hates him. That’s one damn good punishment. She hates him for thinking of it. Looking at him, she’s suddenly nervous. He’s just standing there, waiting for her to do everything. Not once has she been forced to make the first move. Granted, she hasn’t had too many chances, but she’s still a ‘first move’ virgin. And she knows that he is well aware of this.

The way he’s watching her makes her think that he doesn’t think she can actually do it. She’s overcome with determination to prove him wrong.

Breathing in deeply, she says simply, “Fine.”

She takes the last step and eliminates any extra space between them. The second she leans forward to fulfill her punishment, he leans back.

Straightening herself, she frowns and scolds, “Finn.”

He laughs, his chest shaking with the action, and stands normally, “Won’t happen again.”

She frowns at him, even though she’s actually amused. She hesitantly leans forward because she’s half expecting him to lean back again. He never does.

He doesn’t move at all when she lays her hands flat on his chest. He doesn’t show any reaction when she softly presses her lips against his. She feels a surge of determination when he doesn’t respond. He’s playing a game and she refuses to let him win. She takes his bottom lip between her teeth, lightly nipping at it, before sucking softly. Still he does nothing. Even more resolute to force a reaction out of him, she slides her hands down his chest and over his stomach.

She feels like stamping her foot on the ground when he still does nothing. She moves her mouth over his jaw, kissing to his neck. She slides one hand up his chest to his neck, slightly pushing his head back. She kisses over to his adam’s apple and lightly sucks.

Suddenly everything seems to happen so quickly. A guttural moan comes from the back of his throat and his hands seem to be everywhere at once. One hand moves to the small of her back, pressing her against him, making it very apparent that she’s been affecting him the whole time. His other hand grips her hair and pulls her head back and away from his neck.

She can’t even think when he crushes his mouth to hers, holding back nothing.

---

AN: Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing. This chapter took a little longer for me to get out, some parts were snagging. Hope everyone likes it, and if not...oh well. \'The Stranger\' is an amazing novel written by Albert Camus. \'Sand and Foam\' is written by the fabulous Kahlil Gibran. \'The Office\' is a brilliantly hilarious british comedy that lasted two seasons plus a holiday special. If anyone watches the NBC version, you guys are seriously being ripped off. No one can replace Ricky Gervais, Mackenzie Crook, Martin Freeman, and Lucy Davis. Anyway, hope you guys like it! The chapter that is.