Post by Jestana on Aug 1, 2004 16:59:40 GMT -5
Chess Anyone?
A/N: The plot bunny was originally Punurple’s, but she gave it to me and here’s the result.
Minerva McGonagall was getting impatient. “You’re not moving”
“I’m thinking.” Albus Dumbledore answered mildly, not looking up from the game.
She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been thinking for the last three minutes.”
“Losing interest?” he asked, glancing up at her before returning his attention to the game.
She sighed. “I’m falling asleep”
“You don’t like the way I play the game?” he raised his eyebrows at her.
Annoyed, she pointed out, “Your lack of movement doesn’t help.”
“I don’t move quickly, but when I do move I move well,” he stated with calm dignity. She snorted before leaning back in her chair and stretching. He promptly jumped, startled. “Minerva! God!”
“You can call me Minerva now,” she told him with a look reminiscent of the cat that got the canary. “God will do later, Albus. God will do later.”
He looked at her over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. “Your feet are freezing! Kindly remove them from my leg!”
“If you say so…” she replied with a smug expression on her face.
He jumped again. “I said remove them! Not move them higher up!”
“Isn’t it your turn?” she asked innocently, ignoring his protest. “This must be the longest time we’ve ever done this.”
He jumped again. “Minerva!”
“Yes, Albus?” She batted her eyelashes at him. She gasped when he seized her ankle. “Albus! Release my foot!”
He continued to study the game calmly, still holding her foot in his warm hands. “When I’m finished with my turn.”
“You’re deliberately taking your time,” she accused him, attempting to pull her foot from his grasp.
He smiled at her across the game and resumed his scrutiny. “Pawn to E5.”
“Finally!” she exclaimed. “Now let me have my foot back.”
Smiling, he shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will.”
“Wha--” she cut herself off with a gasp when he began to tickle the bottom of her foot. Wriggling and laughing, her leg bumped the table, sending it crashing to the floor. “Oops.”
He chuckled, still holding her foot. “How many times have we done that now, my dear?”
“Too many to count!” one of the pieces called from the floor.
Both of them chuckled. “Well, I suppose it’s a draw.”
“I suppose so,” he agreed.
She looked at him. “Albus, may I have my foot back now?”
“I suppose when you ask so nicely,” he replied, finally releasing her foot.
She smiled. “Thank you, Albus.”
“You’re quite welcome, my dear.” He rose from his seat and, planting his hands on the arms of her chair, kissed her warmly.
She returned the kiss, her arms winding themselves around his neck. “You know, there must be a better way to do this.”
“Hmm, can’t think of one,” he murmured before kissing her again.
After a long moment, she answered in a breathless voice. “Neither can I.”
A/N: The plot bunny was originally Punurple’s, but she gave it to me and here’s the result.
Minerva McGonagall was getting impatient. “You’re not moving”
“I’m thinking.” Albus Dumbledore answered mildly, not looking up from the game.
She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been thinking for the last three minutes.”
“Losing interest?” he asked, glancing up at her before returning his attention to the game.
She sighed. “I’m falling asleep”
“You don’t like the way I play the game?” he raised his eyebrows at her.
Annoyed, she pointed out, “Your lack of movement doesn’t help.”
“I don’t move quickly, but when I do move I move well,” he stated with calm dignity. She snorted before leaning back in her chair and stretching. He promptly jumped, startled. “Minerva! God!”
“You can call me Minerva now,” she told him with a look reminiscent of the cat that got the canary. “God will do later, Albus. God will do later.”
He looked at her over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. “Your feet are freezing! Kindly remove them from my leg!”
“If you say so…” she replied with a smug expression on her face.
He jumped again. “I said remove them! Not move them higher up!”
“Isn’t it your turn?” she asked innocently, ignoring his protest. “This must be the longest time we’ve ever done this.”
He jumped again. “Minerva!”
“Yes, Albus?” She batted her eyelashes at him. She gasped when he seized her ankle. “Albus! Release my foot!”
He continued to study the game calmly, still holding her foot in his warm hands. “When I’m finished with my turn.”
“You’re deliberately taking your time,” she accused him, attempting to pull her foot from his grasp.
He smiled at her across the game and resumed his scrutiny. “Pawn to E5.”
“Finally!” she exclaimed. “Now let me have my foot back.”
Smiling, he shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will.”
“Wha--” she cut herself off with a gasp when he began to tickle the bottom of her foot. Wriggling and laughing, her leg bumped the table, sending it crashing to the floor. “Oops.”
He chuckled, still holding her foot. “How many times have we done that now, my dear?”
“Too many to count!” one of the pieces called from the floor.
Both of them chuckled. “Well, I suppose it’s a draw.”
“I suppose so,” he agreed.
She looked at him. “Albus, may I have my foot back now?”
“I suppose when you ask so nicely,” he replied, finally releasing her foot.
She smiled. “Thank you, Albus.”
“You’re quite welcome, my dear.” He rose from his seat and, planting his hands on the arms of her chair, kissed her warmly.
She returned the kiss, her arms winding themselves around his neck. “You know, there must be a better way to do this.”
“Hmm, can’t think of one,” he murmured before kissing her again.
After a long moment, she answered in a breathless voice. “Neither can I.”
(Would this "strip chess" be a Lemon? 
