#pre-accident

~ ~ ~

Even the skeptical looks your boyfriend kept throwing your way couldn't dampen your spirits. Otto had finally, after months of your cajoling and wheedling, agreed to watch a horror movie with you. You rubbed your hands together and willed the popcorn to pop faster. At last, you carried the butter-drenched bowl back to the couch and sank into the cushions next to him.

"You're sure this one isn't as gory as the others?" Otto asked. "I've caught glimpses of some of that stuff you watch, you know."

You balanced the bowl on his knee and kissed his shoulder. "It's as much camp as horror," you assured him, taking up the remote. "And it's got a cult following."

"That doesn't reassure me."

Despite his less than thrilled tone or choice of words, he wrapped his arm around your waist, snugging you against his side as you hit 'play'. On the screen, the title card shown for a moment before the camera began to jerkily pan over swamp water. You grinned and shoved a handful of salty snack food into your mouth.

"Solid as a rock," Otto mumbled, echoing the dialogue. He sighed as he looked at you. "They're all going to die, aren't they?"

"Not all of them," you drawled.

Your next handful of popcorn was redirected by his hand on your wrist. He stole the kernels with tongue and teeth, making you shiver. Oh, so that's how he was gonna play it, huh?

"You'd better pay attention," you teased. "There's going to be a test afterwards."

He hummed and took your fingers into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around each in turn until he'd devoured all traces of the popcorn. He caressed the inside of your wrist with his thumb as he pulled your hand away again, knowing exactly what he was doing to you. "I'll keep that in mind."

You tucked your feet under you, the friction of your thighs hardly addressing the issue, and leaned against him, adjusting your hands so that you could stroke his knuckles. "Movie first, dear." If the man didn't kill you with frustration before then, that was.

"Are you saying I'm not allowed to mix pleasure with-" He looked dubiously from you to the screen. "-entertainment?"

"Just this once, that's exactly what I'm saying. Humor me?"

He relented, his faux-innocence giving way to fondness. "If it's that important to you."

You both turned your attention to the movie after that. Well, he did. You split your attention between the screen and him. The 'scares' certainly didn't seem to bother him, but it was still early and the film hadn't found its stride, yet.

Then the woods came to life and his arm tightened around you as he grimaced. It was all you could do not to grin like a maniac; that was the turning point for most viewers, after all. As the zombie leapt up with the pencil, he startled, too, almost hard enough to push you off the couch. Your bark of laughter wasn't stifled quickly enough to go unnoticed and he scowled at you, although the look in his eyes was far from negative. With a smirk of his own, he moved the bowl and pulled you into his lap.

"Otto," you chided, unresisting.

"Just getting comfortable." He wrapped both arms around your waist, repositioning the popcorn to your lap, and pressed his lips to the back of your shoulder. "I'm still paying attention."

"To me or the movie?"

"Both."

The more blood onscreen, the more his attention shifted to you, however. By the time the first zombie had been dismembered, he was nuzzling the back of your neck, his view of the screen completely obscured. You were tempted to take pity on him, except that the way he was playing with the buttons of your shirt was anything but fair.

"How many pieces?" you asked.

"What?"

"How many pieces was the zombie in?"

He stopped moving for a couple seconds. You could practically feel him trying to deduce the answer through logic. "Six?" There was a pause and then a quiet groan of resignation. "Seven," he corrected.

Well, how about that? Maybe he was paying attention after all. At least, enough for it to count. "Good job."

Given the way he pressed his forehead against your shoulder, a blatant attempt to hide his eyes, you almost felt bad for making him sit through the rest of the film. But he didn't make any attempts to leave and you still wanted to see if he would make it through the whole thing for you. That didn't stop him from working at your resolve, however. At the sound of the chainsaw, he moved his hands to your thighs, kneading the muscles as his thumbs teased just shy of providing any kind of relief. You squirmed.

"Otto," you admonished again.

"You seemed tense," he replied sweetly. "I just thought I'd give you a massage."

"Uh huh."

You never thought you'd regret having a sexy, attentive boyfriend. Good thing you still didn't, although you weren't sure you'd ever be able to watch this movie again without a very awkward response. What a shame.

Finally the last scream faded, the popcorn long gone, and it was your turn to catch Otto by the wrist and redirect his hands. "You get one shot at this question," you announced. He took in a deep breath, preparing for the worst. "Where was the cabin located?"

You could almost hear how deeply furrowed his brow must be, based on the tone of his voice. "In the woods."

"Yes, but in the woods where?"

"They didn't say. Do you mean in the mountains? Wait." He pensively brushed his nose against your neck. "They said they'd just passed something. Tennessee, wasn't it?"

"Ding ding ding."

You turned, rising up on your knees and wrapping your arms around his neck. He leaned back, arms encircling your waist as he dragged you closer. The kiss was gentle and chaste, a far cry from representing the heat he'd stoked in your belly for the last hour and a half.

"Thank you for watching it with me," you murmured.

"You're welcome. Now I'd like to forget I ever saw it."

You quirked an eyebrow. "I suppose you have an idea how to go about that."

"Indeed, I do." He tangled a hand in your hair, pulling you in for a deeper kiss.