Collided (Sandra Bullock X y/n fanfic)

You Kiss Your Mother with That Mouth?

I woke up the next morning feeling like I'd forgotten something. I looked over my shoulder, a panicked wave washing over me. I was expecting to see Sandy's flushed face resting against the pillow behind me, but only a pile of empty sheets greeted me. I rested my hand on the imprint she'd left behind.
The curtains had been opened and somewhere in the distance I could hear a clattering. It was a sunny morning, and I squinted in the well lit room.
I shrugged on a crumpled up hoodie and it fell around me like a hug. I wandered through the hallways, until I found the bathroom I recognised from yesterday. Sandy had put my toothbrush in there beside hers. As I brushed my teeth I noticed that she'd also stocked the shower with the hair products I used. I stared at myself in the mirror, trying not to squeal in the way the fangirl inside me wanted to. She knows what shampoo and conditioner I use. She even put a bottle of coconut scented body wash in there because I'd mentioned that was my favourite scent once. Once I was done, I put everything carefully back in its place, not wanting to make a mess of such a beautiful room.
Creeping down the stairs, my feet touched toe first and then heel. As I rounded the corner, sunlight streamed from the front of the house, warm against the floorboards.
The living room was empty, the same as it had been when I arrived, but to the left was the kitchen, and it was occupied. A short, grey haired woman stood at the stove with her back to me, her arm bent as she stirred.
I froze, unsure of whether to announce my presence... or how.
"Excuse me?" I said, timidly.
She turned around and smiled, as if she recognised me. "Miss Y/l/n, I assume?"
"Yes. Sorry, yes, hello. Is..."
"Miss Bullock is outside." She had such warm eyes, and they crinkled as she spoke.
"Oh... great. Than—thank you, ma'am." I teetered on the spot, unsure of whether to make small talk or just leave.
I settled on a curt wave, my fingers stuck together like my hand was made of plastic. As I walked towards the patio, which I never got around to seeing when we arrived yesterday, I tucked my hair behind my ears. The house was warm, but as I opened the door a wall of fresh, crisp air enveloped me.
Sunlight was seeping onto the wooden floorboards of the patio, but it was much dimmer outside than in the house. To my right, Sandy was nestled in the corner of the sofa, her legs curled up on the cream pillows beneath her. Her fingers were clutching a mug.
She smiled with her mouth closed when she saw me and beckoned me towards her. I pulled my sleeves over my hands, a shiver running up my spine as I ventured further into the dewy morning.
She moved her legs so that I could snuggle in next to her. She had a fleecy cardigan on and cotton joggers that flowed loosely around her ankles. Her hair was flung half up with a claw clip, the front parts of her hair hung around her face.
"You met Deidre, then?" She asked, her hand snaking round my back and rubbing my arm.
I looked out at the expanse of grass beyond us, there were a few steps leading to the garden and then an acre or so of land before the treeline began.
"The lady in your kitchen? Hm, I thought for a second I'd woken up a couple of decades too late and you'd grown old on me."
She made a gasping, tutting sound. "You're giving me twenty years before I look like Deidre?"
I tilted my head. "Yeah you're right, that was a little generous. Let's say a decade."
She removed her hand from my arm, pulling herself further into the corner so that she could see the full frame of my face. "You woke up with an attitude I don't care for." Her eyebrows rose judgementally and I chuckled.
I inhaled deeply, grabbing her hand back and lacing her fingers in mine. She didn't protest. She offered me her steaming mug and I took it, taking a sip. The coffee was rich and sweet, the perfect compliment to the bitter air.
"Today feels different," I said.
"Hm," she mused. "I think you're right. Maybe something to do with a word or two you had with my heart last night?"
I looked around conspiratorially. "Don't discuss those things out here, Deirdre might hear you."
She grinned, rolling her eyes. "It wasn't a euphemism, Y/n. You were lying against my chest so long you fell asleep."
"Yeah," I breathed. "It's easy to sleep with you holding me," I paused, our eyes lingering in contact for a moment. The corners of her mouth twitched into an almost smile. "And... I made my decision."
"You did?" She asked, like she already knew.
I looked at the coffee in my hands as it swished against the sides of the porcelain. "I did. But I'd like to know what you think we should do before I say."
"Well," she said, leaning forward. Her hair fell across her cheek. "I'm not thinking about the consequences. Or, rather, I'm not worried about them. I know what I said yesterday, about it meaning something different for me, but... I don't care. I just don't. If this is the thing that ends my career as I know it, then good riddance."
I chewed on the inside of my lip. My heart was racing, although I wasn't sure why. A mix of knowing what I was going to say next and hearing those words from Sandra.
"I think we should do it," I said. "And not because of Emily, or the fans or anything else. I just want to scream from the rooftops that you're mine."
Her eyes twinkled. "Agreed, baby," she held my chin, the sleeve of her cardigan tickling me. "I'll tell my publicist. But you and I can discuss how we want to do it."
I smiled mischievously. "I already know how I want to do it. Do you not know me? I've been dreaming of this moment for years, Sandra Bullock."
She gave me a warning with her eyes. "I'm not renting a plane to write your name in the sky, Y/n. Or... some other humiliating public display of affection."
"Oh, no baby. No, no. It's got to be much more subtle than that," I hummed. "we are gonna utilise the enemy."
Sandy looked puzzled. "Emily?"
"No. Although..." I considered this, my mind working overtime to hatch a plan. "Nah, we'll leave her out of it. I was gonna say the paparazzi."
"Oh," she said, understanding. "Duh."
"Ugh... yes," I sighed, happily. "This is the dream. The first public outing as a couple. I'm really having a moment here."
"You have your moment, honey," she said, tapping and then squeezing my thigh. "But my coffee's getting cold."
She took the mug from my hand and stood up.
"No!" I groaned. "Where are you going, we have to discuss pap pics!"
She grimaced as she looked down at me. "Pap pics? Who are you right now?"
I clawed at the waistband of her joggers and stood up, coming face to face with her. We were practically nose to nose.
"Hm, yeah," I muttered to myself, looking down at our bodies, hip to hip. "Just like this would be good."
She paused, taking in my words, with a hint of you're crazy in her eyes and a little bit of enjoyment.
"I'm not standing breast to breast with you in public, Y/n."
"There's a little gap, look, right there," I pointed.
"We are nipple to nipple," she stated.
"No we are not!" I exclaimed.
"We are va—"
I put my finger on her lips to quiet her. "Do not say the word vagina to me right now, Sandra. Or ever."
She paused, her eyes searching mine as they began to glow in a way that usually meant she was about to be very childish.
"Vagina... to... vagina," she whispered, her mouth moving against my finger.
"Sandy," I gasped, scandalised.
"Titty to titty." Her eyes shone as she watched me grow more and more exasperated. "Pussy to pussy," her lips puckered to pronounce every P with a pop. "That's how close we're standing right now."
"Oh my actual god," I huffed, trying not to show my secret amusement. "You kiss your mother with that mouth? We'll leave room for Jesus, okay?" I stepped back so that my calves hit the bottom of the sofa.
She snorted and pulled the neckline of my hoodie. "Well, we're not in public now are we?" She smirked, her hand reaching for my throat. "I'll show you what my mouth does—"
"Uh, uh," I tutted as she delved into the nook of my neck. "Save it for the paps."
She looked at me in annoyance. "Are you kidding me?"
I broke into a smile, kissing her playfully. "Yes, Sandy. I am." I kissed her again, waiting until I felt her forgive me in the form of an open mouth.
"Come on," she said, clasping one of my drawstrings in her palm. "Deirdre's making her famous waffles." She looked back at me as she led me to the door, the woollen string connecting us, with a stolen glance of seduction. "Do you like waffles, Y/n? There's strawberries too."
As if she sent it to me telepathically with those dark eyes, an image of her mouth as she bit into a strawberry flashed through my mind. The juice coating her lips in a deep red. I almost tripped over.
"Uh huh," I muttered, letting her lead me through the house.