5. help for cal and gray? 🥺
ily syd ,,, i love u sm
5. help (microprompt)
pairing; grayson black/calypso wiseman
an; two dorks,,, love them
Cal did not want his help. No, she did not--does not want his help, she can zip up her dress herself dammit! She can--shit! that hurt.
Stupid zipper, she thinks, bringing her index finger to her lips to soothe the jagged cut. And then, she curses herself for expressing her sudden frustration when she hears a worried voice in her head. All okay? Nick thinks to her, and she knows that Gray is waiting just outside as well, right beside Nick with the same worried expression that Cal knows Nick definitely has on his face.
Peachy keen, jelly bean. She scowls. A dress zipper is not going to best her, she will not allow it. She has too much pride for that.
That’s a new one, Nick shoots back, and then, he bites his lip from his place in the kitchen and thinks to her, Gray is getting worried that you’re never coming out of there.
She sighs, reluctantly groans out loud from the sting on her finger. Technical difficulty. An annoyed stomp of her foot, and then, she shifts from looking in the mirror to the door. Could you send Gray for help?
The excitement in Nick’s voice is tangible when he responds, He’s on his way!
There’s a second of silence, and then a tentative knock on her bedroom door. “Come in,” she calls, wincing at the embarrassment she is about to face when Gray walks through the door.
And when he does, his gaze is averted to the floor, hesitant to look up, and Cal thinks to herself, how gentlemanly--Nick do not say a word.
(I’m saying nothing! My lips are sealed! she hears.)
Though, when Cal really pays attention to the Ment in front of her, she feels the breath in her lungs woosh away with violent force. He’s dressed in a stark black suit, tie perfectly centered like he’s done this before. Her mouth goes dry, and suddenly, she’s forgotten why she’s asked him in here.
And Gray--he looks up, careful azure eyes scanning over her. “You look…” He rubs a hand on his neck, head drooping to hide the blush on his tan face.
“Ravishing? As the British would say?” She hopes the joke will cut the tension, but still she finds herself swallowing hard.
“I don’t think that word really does you justice,” he responds, hands tucked in his pockets, waiting for the say-so to reach out to her. But she’s gorgeous, there’s no doubt about that, and he finds himself lost in limbo between shaky, flustered hands, and smooth flirtations. She always had a way of doing that to him.
Cal chuckles, dips her own head, until they’re both a blushing mess, refusing to meet the other in the eyes. Eventually, she turns and gestures to the back of her dress. “Ah, the um--the zipper got stuck.”
He steps forward, pressing his weight on the back of his heels, and he waits--he waits until the very last moment to bring his touch to her soft and vulnerable back. The flush of thoughts in his mind, her thoughts, deepens the embarrassing and flustered red spreading on his face. And despite himself his hands trace down her spine, and dip to the small edge of her back, lingering before delicately grasping the zipper and tugging it upwards.
She shivers at the touch, but it’s not unwanted, but more than she thought she had wanted, and suddenly, she is very grateful she asked for his help.
Reluctantly his hands leave her back, but he lingers ever still near her shoulder, and she can feel his breath on the tip of her burning bright ear. He doesn’t touch her, radiates heat from a careful distance away, until her thoughts are no more of a quiet whisper (though they all sing praises of his appearance, and his gentleness).
“All better?” He asks, eyes meeting hers through the mirror they stand in front of.
Cal nods, unable to speak from the close proximity.
Everything okay? She hears from Nick.
Get. Out. She growls back at him.
30 notes · View notes