Current mood:	chipper
Current music:	None, which is weird. I should fix that. Or go to bed.
Entry tags:	002 (a first kiss)

Book--Before He Had a Name
So. A couple of things. I'm actually over the word limit, which is ridiculous if you know me, but only barely, so I beg your mercy. Also, this is for mays, who made me stop and think about Book in the first place. I urge you, if you haven't already, to read her first Book fic, which is brilliant and thought-provoking. And finally, in the absence of a Joss-sanctioned name for our young pre-Shepherd Book, I chose not to give him one at all. So sorry for the awkwardness of all those "he"s. And with that, I'm done qualifiying... Thanks. Hils

*****

He sat in a pew by himself in the warm chapel and cursed quietly but steadily. Between schoolwork undone and parents unsatisfied, the only son of John Buford had a tenuous grip on his complicated life. The last thing he needed was to lose control upon the mere sight of a girl... but what a girl she was: gorgeous, sweet, smart, and most worrisome, the daughter of a preacher.

No, he thought, I know better than this. But already, he was finding it easier to repress his concerns despite himself. It was maybe the way her dress hung off her body, the way her eyes flashed revealing the presence of the kind of thoughts that didn't align with the hymn she was singing, or maybe, most likely, it was the wicked smile she'd given him during the sermon. He had known in that instant that Glory Frazier was much more than piety and light: she was confused and alone and passionate, just like he was.

After an older woman in her best Sunday hat finally turned and shot him a horrified look, Book shut his mouth, which had still been running through its complete repertoire of foul-mouthed phrases. He weighed his options. He'd planned on staying at home, even on the planet, for another year at most, until he was old enough to leave without causing too much of a fuss. In that time his original goal had been simply to mollify each person who crossed his path. But now? Now he had a new mission – Glory in the Highest indeed.

Everyone had always told him that he just needed to focus his energy, to apply himself. Fine, he thought, flashing his own wicked smile back to the woman in front of him, I'll focus.

*****

He'd tried to get near her for four Sundays in a row, but Glory has never once left the safety of Shepherd Frazier's side after the service. On Sundays, he'd lodged fewer complaints about going to church, which had made his parents uneasy but happy, but he'd lost all ability to carry on conversations with the people he saw everyday. It was the image of Glory, all lit from above, halos around her head and stained glass behind her, that he saw when he closed his eyes, and so it seemed better to stay that way, to stop looking at what was around him when what was inside his head seemed so much more appealing.

But then something smiled on him, God or good fortune or just plain luck. (He had been leaning toward the latter, though summer days like this could make him a believer again, if anything could.)

He'd been walking home from school when he'd strolled right past her sitting on a bench next to the lake the town had built five years earlier. It took about 10 more steps before his eyes caught up with his brain, and so he stopped suddenly, almost tripping himself as he strained against his forward motion. "Ta.ma.de," he muttered and paused, unsure of whether to turn around or to try to save a little dignity and keep walking.

"I'm fairly certain those aren't the right kind of words for a fine, young gentleman such as yourself."

The voice came from directly behind him, sweet and teasing. He turned slowly and found himself facing an animated version of the beautiful, but stationary image that had been sitting, waiting in his head for the past month. He liked this one better, certainly.

He began to stammer an apology, for being so rude in her presence, but he could tell it wasn't what she wanted to hear. He tried again: "Well, in truth, the right words for me are rarely the words others want to hear."

"But you're saying 'em out loud, aren't you? Somone's bound to listen. Better to keep your crazy notions to yourself, I think... Least, it's what I do."

She looked down at the ground and sighed. It was the first sign of timidity he'd seen her exhibit, and he wasn't sure he liked it. The Glory he'd watched and dreamt of was full-steam ahead, a girl without reservations.

He smiled broadly, trying to coax one back out of her in return, "Well, I've never been much good at controlling what I say or do. I suspect you could teach me some on that count."

And then there it was, the wicked grin, the deviousness pouring out of every crinkle around her eyes. She looked right at him: "I suspect I could teach you a lot."

He knew this was his moment, the time for the right words, the ones that he wouldn't want his momma to hear, but his normally overactive brain and quick tongue failed him, going blank when he finally needed them, when it finally mattered. An almost inaudible "Yeah?" was all he could muster.

But Glory appeared to have her mind set and mercifully ignored his faltering. "Yeah," she said, before taking a step toward him.

He leaned in toward her and placed a hand respectfully on her hip, but Glory was faster and managed to get her mouth squarely on his before he had even a chance to think. His instincts took over--instincts he didn't know he had--and he returned the kiss, thrilled to feel her soft lips beneath his.

As fast as she'd moved in, Glory pulled away and lifted her chin up to look into his eyes.
"Well," she said, "I should go. Kissing's almost as bad as cursing. Someone's bound to see... Better if we keep this to ourselves too."

He tried to recover as she started to run away down the path, back toward town: "Yeah," he called after her weakly.

She stopped and turned back to him, "We probably should work on getting you words at all, never mind finding the right ones. Tomorrow, we'll try that... and other stuff."

He struggled to contain the ridiculous grin that was spreading across his face as he called back, "It sounds like a plan."