It's How You Say It
(This is fanfiction, Captain Caveman, and its characters are owned by Hanna-Barbera .)
Cavey snorted, and made to turn over, but found that he couldn't use his left arm. When he looked over, he found that he had been pinned to his bed by a Taffy.
He chuckled a bit to himself...Taffy was a sound sleeper, and on a few occasions, when she had gotten up in the middle of the night, she had taken the shortest route to the nearest handy bed, leaving Cavey to provide her shuttle service back to her bed to avoid any embarrassment. The first she had kipped down in his room, Cavey thought himself very clever in simply switching rooms with her, but a few hours later, she had returned to her room, and in the morning had declared that she was probably going bald, and needed a rake to clean all the hair from the bedclothing. Cavey stopped trying to be clever after that.
Taffy sighed a bit, turned on her side, and sliding one thigh over his, snuggled comfortably against him. He stole a peek at her. Anyone else would have looked at a sleeping Taffy, and seen an unruly mane of golden curls,
framing the face of mischief itself. She smiled softly, and in that smile, Cavey saw the morning sun, spreading its golden fingers across another day , making everything fresh, and new.
She smoothed an arm across his chest, and nuzzled into his shoulder. Cavey studied the ceiling tiles in an effort to distract himself . He'd been with the Angels for months; they'd settled into a comfortable routine, and over time, he'd come to think of them as family..but with Taffy, it was becoming a bit of a challenge.
She shifted her hips, and drew her warm, silky thigh along his. She smelled very lightly of musk, and the heat from her body was more than a little intoxicating.
Maybe, if he just relaxed...but when he moved in the slightest, she adjusted herself, and even the smallest touch from her was becoming unbearably delicious. Cavey closed his eyes, as her scent enveloped him. Things with Taffy were well past the 'challeging' stage, and getting harder by the second.
He had a bit of darkness under his eyes at breakfast the next morning. Returning Taffy to her own room wasn't the problem, it was the annoying half sleep that kept toying with him the better part of the night, telling him that he didn't want what he wanted.
He propped his head on one hand, and yawning slightly, pushed at his usual dozen scrambled eggs with the tip of his knife.
Taffy was staring at him, which made him stare back. She put a bacon offering from her plate to his.
"You know me caveman.." he said, poking at it.
"Yes, cave..." she started.
"Man," said Cavey. He took a bite of bacon, and held the rest in front of her mouth. She took a bite, he finished the rest, then began eating his eggs with his knife. Taffy ate slowly, and tried not to make assumptions. In the months that they'd been under the same roof, she'd learned that there was a lot more to Cavey than met the eye. Underneath his impossibly hairy exterior, was an impossibly hairy psyche with an emotional range that could rival anyone.
"What you doing?"
Cavey had finished his breakfast, and was staring at her as though she had misplaced all her marbles. She colored a bit. "Lost in thought," she grinned weakly.
"Eh, heh," he said flatly. "Ok, you doing it again."
"I wasn't staring, " she lied, tapping her knife against her plate.
He reached over, and stilled her hand. When he let go, she made one more tap, refusing to be bested. Then they both started staring.
"It's too early in the morning for this," she said.
"You not win. You never win staring contest," Cavey said.
She reached over, and wrapped her pinky finger around his.
"You not win that either," said Cavey, assuming it was another competition.
She looked away. "Not trying to win," she said. She looked back to him. "What's going on?" she asked quietly.
Of course he knew what she was asking; he just didn't know how to say it. He wanted to tell her things, to ask her things, but there was so much, he just didn't know how to begin to approach it. And Cavey was no good at approaching things subtly.. he had seen subtle used in this modern world with various degrees of success, but where he came from, a subtle approach either got you stepped on or eaten for dinner.
"Me man," he said.
"Yes, we've established that," said Taffy.
Cavey narrowed his eyes.
"Sorry," said Taffy.
He searched her eyes for the longest time . "Me like you," he finally said.
Taffys eyes glazed as she calculated the possible outcomes of what might potentially come out of her mouth. She understood what he'd just said, and she understood her own feelings...just not the outcome of expressing them.
At length, she looked so conflicted, Cavey began to slide his hand away, and in the next instant, she cupped the back of his head, and caught his mouth in a long, devouring kiss.
When they finally came up for air, he was holding onto both his chair, and the table, and was panting a bit . He mumbled something as he righted himself.
"Did you say unga bunga ?" Taffy grinned.
"No," he said, as he awkwardly attempted to sit up straight ,"maybe."
"I like you too," Taffy smiled softly. "I just needed to find how to say it."
Cavey managed a confused grin, and decided he had a lot to learn about modern linguistics.