three: jolt/yuru

For 30_kisses. WAFFles, woohoo!


30 First Kisses, kiss 3
jolt/yuru!

There was a big shag rug in front of the TV. Molly liked the feel of it, said it was like sitting in a field of grass. And Mohinder liked it too, though he only plunked down on it when he thought nobody was looking. Other times, he sat on the couch like a civilized person.

After driving Molly to soccer practice, Matt had spent the day hauling clothes back and forth from the laundry machines in the basement of the building. It was truly amazing how much laundry could accumulate among three people in the short space of a week, especially since one of them had to wear a uniform most of the time. When he got into the apartment, Mohinder was in front of the TV in his favorite spot, like a pet who always managed to find a patch of sunlight to settle in. Letting the hamper down with a loud grunt, Matt came to sit down next to him on the rug.

"What's on?" There was a TV ad for cola at the moment.

"Football."

"Football?"

"Can't I watch football?" Mohinder turned a quizzical eye on Matt, unsure of where the confusion lay.

"I just... can't imagine you'd be all that interested, that's all."

Mohinder shuffled his feet on the rug awkwardly. He was wearing, Matt noted, a pair of god-awful argyle socks. "At this point, I can't imagine I am, either," he admitted. "I suppose it would help if I understood at all what was going on."

"Oh, that I can help you with," Matt said, leaning back, his palms spread against the tousled rug. "They have four chances to go ten yards, and if they do it, they get another four chances to go another ten. That's the whole game, in a nutshell. Everything else is just details."

"Ah." Mohinder nodded. The game had returned to the screen. "And the knocking each other down, then, is a detail?" The look of half-disgust on his face made Matt laugh out loud.

"If you don't like it, watch something else?" He rocked forward onto his knees, reaching forward to hit the channel button.

That's when the first jolt came.

Matt's finger and the TV screen got a little too close, and a loud crack sounded. He withdrew his hand quickly. "Ow!"

"Static?"

Matt nodded. "Damn thing. How old is that set, anyway?"

"Pretty old," Mohinder admitted. "I got it off Craigslist for forty dollars. It seemed like a good deal at the time."

"Yeah, well, hand me the remote, would you?" Matt was still nursing his shocked hand. "At least it has one."

Mohinder plucked the remote from the rug and handed it over. As Matt took it, his fingertips brushed against Mohinder's palm.

Zap.

"Ouch!" Mohinder jerked back.

"Sorry."

"Perhaps it's not the TV," Mohinder accused. "Perhaps it's you."

"Me?" Matt looked offended. "Why would it be me?"

"You have been folding laundry all day," his companion noted. "There's a lot of static electricity that gets built up when fabrics are--"

"Yeah, yeah, thanks, Mr. Science," Matt said, and pushed him slightly with the palm of one hand.

Zap.

That time, they both jumped. "Stop that," Mohinder yelped.

"You stop it!"

"I'm not doing anything."

"Right," Matt sniffed. "I may not have a Ph.D., but I know at least that rubbing your socks on a rug like that is going to charge you up."

Mohinder's feet abruptly stopped their idle shuffling. "I hadn't realized--" he started, but then gave a wicked grin, and those garish socks started rubbing back and forth at double the pace.

"Oh, no you don't," said Matt, grabbing a fistful of sweaters from the hamper and rubbing them between his fists gleefully. The two men eyed each other for a moment, dangerous fingers outstretched like claws, and then a childish game of tag broke out. Mohinder jabbed at Matt-- zap!-- who grabbed his arm-- zap!-- and touched his ear-- zap!-- with another charged hand. Laughing and rubbing his feet along that now-high-voltage shag rug, Mohinder pulled free-- zap!-- and closed his grip around Matt's hand.

Matt tried to pull away, instead falling backwards onto the rug-- a flurry of small zaps rising from its charged strands of yarn-- inadvertently pulling Mohinder with him until he landed on all fours above the prone Matt-- zap!--

and the laughter stopped abruptly as the distance between them shrunk to nearly nothing. They were close enough, in fact, that tiny jolts of static electricity seemed to be jumping between the tips of their noses and swimming in their mingled breaths. The charge in the air was not all electric, though.

"That was ridiculous," Mohinder said, trying and failing to scowl.

"Yeah," breathed Matt. And unable to control the impulse, he put a hand to Mohinder's face.

Zap!

Mohinder crashed down onto him. They kissed long and hard, possessed by the electricity flowing between them, feeling their bodies buzz with its pulse. Matt wrapped his arms around the man above him, the static moving through his fingertips in a series of pleasant jolts, hands jumping with every shock. Mohinder's hands were in his hair-- which was surely now standing straight up, he was so full of static and sensation.

Their lips parted. Matt tried to say something but choked; Mohinder stuttered incoherently. His eyes were soft. Matt's were blazing.

Eventually, Mohinder's features broke into a gentle smile. Matt smiled back and tenderly touched his cheek with one hand.

Zap!

"Ouch!" Mohinder jumped up. "That one hurt!"

"Hah!" Springing to his knees, Matt rubbed his hands on the carpet threateningly. "Don't tell me you can't take it..." Mohinder let out a little scream and shielded his face.

"What are you two doing?"

Molly was standing in the doorway, soccer ball in hand, looking disgusted.

"Oh, ah, welcome home," stammered two red-faced supposed grown-ups.

"What are you, eight?" She rolled her eyes and walked away down the hall. They watched her go and glanced at each other nervously, unsure of how much had been seen.

"She's eight," Mohinder finally said with a frown.

"Righhht," Matt drawled, getting to his feet. "I think I have a new target."

"I'm with you," Mohinder declared, grinning.

It was a long time until the laundry got put away that night.