Skittles and Cigs, a Robert/Kristen RPF

Title: Skittles and Cigs
Author: halfabubble
Pairing: Robert Pattinson/ Kristen Stewart
Rating: PG-13 - A little bit of hanky panky ;)
Category: Romance/Humour
Summary: Okay, well, this isn’t really very angsty and doesn’t have the snarkyness of the other R/K fics out there, which I think are much better and more realistic than this piece of crap. I still tried to keep it marginally in-character though (or whatever you call it for an RPF) so they still tease each other like 3rd graders and make a sarcastic comment or two. Which is what I think they are like in real life. I’ve used “he” and “she” more than I would usually in fics because somehow it makes me feel less guilty writing about two real people if I don’t use their names often, lol.

 Robert stood in front of the counter of her trailer, waiting, drumming his fingers on the laminated wood. The coffee maker had yet to give him an indication that it was even working, but he waited anyway. If he didn't get any caffeine soon his head was going to explode or he was going to pass out right there on the floor. And then his head would explode. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as a brunette shadow suddenly whisked past him, turned the television on and settled on the makeshift couch. He heard, rather than saw, a packet being opened, and then a smell. He could recognize that sound anywhere and it only meant one thing. He turned the coffee maker off and turned around. 

There, on the couch, sat Kristen, a huge pack of cigarettes on her lap, watching the news intently and every once in a while placing one into her mouth. A mischievous smile appeared on his face as he approached. "What you got there?" he asked. She didn't even look back at him, but continued to stare at the television and popped it into her mouth again. 

"Cigs.” He came around the couch and sat next to her. 

"Funny, I never pictured you as the type."

 "I'm not." 

There was nothing cuter, he thought, than Kristen concentrating on something. Her eyes got a little wild and her forehead would wrinkle. It was adorable. And as President Bush went on and on about the benefits of the war in Iraq, he suddenly reached, or at least tried to reach, into her pack. 

"Nuh-uh!" she exclaimed, pushing his hand away. 

"Come on, you have a whole packet."

 "Mine," she said greedily. 

Robert frowned; this was going to be hard, she was very protective of her fags. He was going to have to trick her, somehow. She looked at him long enough to show him how annoyed she was, and then continued to monotonously stare at the television again. 

"I’m eighteen now, I want some, I can buy some.” 

He smiled. She could be really weird with her lingo sometimes. He tried to see into her pack, but it was securely nestled in her lap. 

"Do you have any left?" 

"Nope" she said, puffing away. 

"If you had any, would you share?" 

"Probably not." 

"Why?" 

"These are Parliament Lights," she said, as if this was obvious.

 "And?" he asked, amused. 

"These are cigs for preppy, sorority type girls. Guys aren’t allowed to have them unless they’re gay. I've been told as much." 

He couldn't believe how serious she was about this conversation, smoking, and every once in a while frowning at something on the television screen like he wasn't even there. 

"You're not preppy," he tried. 

"But I bought them, I don't have to be," she explained. 

He frowned. That made no sense at all to him, a smoke was a smoke, but he dismissed it with a shake of his head and tried to reach for the pack again. 

"Just give me one," he said, but she pinned the bag between her thighs just in time and pushed his hand away again. 

"No!" 

"Are you seriously going to have all of them?" He exclaimed.

 "Yes," she smiled. 

"Do you know what happens to people who don't share? They go to hell," he said. 
"That's not true," she said. 

"It's in the Bible."

 "The Bible doesn't mention anything about smoking. I think I'd remember if Jesus went for a puff," she said, arching an eyebrow. 

"You'll get tar in your lungs if you don't share. Lots of it," he teased. "It's called karma. Don't mess with karma. It's a bitch." 

She looked at him, letting out an exasperated sigh. He stuck his lower lip way out in a pout and she finally gave up. "Oh, alright." 

He grinned happily, waiting for his treat. She reached into her pack secretly, trying to hide it away from him so he wouldn't look. He chuckled. Sometimes she could act like a five year old. Finally, she showed him her fist, he put his hand under it, and a bunch of things landed on his palm. He looked at them as if they were alien.

 "What's this?" 

"Skittles," she said. 

"They're purple," he said, examining the candy. 

"Yup." 

"I don't like purple. I want cigs," he said, trying to give them back. She grinned and started watching the television set again.

 "Too bad." 

"If I have to have skittles, I want the red ones." 

"No." 

"Why not?!"

 "Because those are my favorite," she said matter-of-factly.

 "Hey!"

 "Rob, really, they all taste the same," she sighed, finally sounding more like the girl he knew. 

"That's M&Ms," he explained. "And if they all taste the same, why don't you eat the purple ones?" 

"Because it's an ugly color." 

He sighed. "Kristen..."

 "I don't like purple."

 "...I just finished a 10 hour shoot..."

 "Plus, they make my tongue look weird."

 "...If I don't get any sugar, I'll fall asleep behind the wheel on my way to the hotel and slam my car into a tree. Is that what you want?" He continued.

 "Probably not," she said indifferently. 

"Then share." 

"I already shared," she said.

 "Then share some more," he said. 

She sighed. "You're a little pushy for someone who's begging for candy and smokes." 

"You're not gonna have them all. You can't have them all," he argued. 

"Watch me," she said greedily, finally opened her fist and he saw that her hand was full of red Skittles. She put her cigarette out and his eyes widened when she popped a bunch of them into her mouth and chewed away happily. His mouth watered and his stomach growled, his head began to pound faster. 

"You are so mean." 

She chuckled. "Mmm. You know what? You're right, the red ones are better." 

He frowned at her scornfully and then scoffed. 

"Okay, you know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna go to the nearest store right now and buy all the left-over sweets and cigarettes they have. It'll be cheap, Kristen, and it'll be good."

 "Okay, have fun," she said dismissively. 

His frown intensified before his body snapped and he lunged at her. "Okay, that's it!" he said, his hands reaching for the candy, half his body weight landing on her. 

She shrieked immediately, held her fist way over her head and he reached for it, tried to open it but she had a hell of a grip. 

"Come on, give it up." 

"Rob!" she shrieked again, trying to push him off her with her hand, with her feet, but he had a good 80 pounds on her. 

"You're crushing me!"

 "Give me the Skittles and I'll stop," he grunted. 

"Never." 

"Alright, then," he said. His hand found her stomach and he pinched her, not too hard but not too soft either, and she screamed out so loud he thought the whole of Portland could hear her. When that didn't work he began to tickle her, and her entire body began to writhe and seize, but she still wouldn't let go of the candy. He had to admire her for that. If they were ever stuck in the middle of a war, he definitely wanted he on his side. 

"Stop it!" she yelled, probably alerting the entire city. And he would have stopped, really, because she was tiny and he didn't want to hurt her in any way. But she was laughing now. It'd been so long since he heard her laugh he must've forgotten what it sounded like. Yeah, remembered at that moment how intoxicating that laugh could be, so much that for a moment he forgot what he was doing on top of her, until he felt her fingers get a hold of the skin on his stomach and she pinched. 
Hard. 

"Ow!" he screamed, letting go of her fist to push the perpetrating hand away. She laughed at his pain. 
"Karma's not a bitch, Rob, payback is." 

"I didn't pinch you that hard!" He complained, rubbing the already red area. It hurt like a son of a bitch. 
She took advantage of the situation. She swiftly pushed him off her and pinned him back into the couch. The back of his head hit the armrest and he cried out in pain again. She merely laughed, enjoying her sudden dominance... until, as if in slow motion, she heard the cigarettes and candy hit the floor. He must've heard it, too, because pain forgotten, his eyes widened a little as he looked at her. She looked back at him, and in mere milliseconds they both lunged at it, a tangle of legs and arms landing on the floor. She tackled the bag first, securely wrapping her body around it as if it were a child. He landed behind her a little too late, but he wasted no time as he proceeded to try and wrestle it out of her. 

"Stop it, Rob, I'm a girl!" she shrieked. 

"I'm not falling for that one again," he grunted as he tried to reach for the bag, trying to open her still closed fist when that didn't work. Only her fist was still sealed close. Dammit. What the hell was this girl made out of, steel?
 "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play rough with girls?"

 "Says the girl who just smashed my head against an arm rest?" He said. 

"Oh, you're such a baby," she grunted and elbowed him on the ribs. He cried yet again, letting go of her to rub his ribs, and she pushed him away, looked down and saw the pack of cigs still on the floor. With her fist still closed and the bag between her thighs she pinned his chest against the couch using her forearm, nearly choking him, stretching down when she had him immobilized and snatched it from the floor. He lunged at her again, catching her by surprise and pinning her against the carpet. He smiled down at her victoriously. 
"What are you, five?" She grunted, annoyed. 

"Get off me, Rob!" 

He held her forearms down tight, only now it was kind of hard trying to reach for the candy when both his hands were occupied trying to keep her in place, and he knew if he let go she would just beat the crap out of him again. "You're stealing my candy," she said defensively.

 "What does your Bible say about stealing?" 

"It says it's okay if you're poor and need to feed your family."

 "That's bread!" She snapped, her body squirming around like a snake. 

"Bread or Skittles," he replied. As she continued to struggle underneath him, he tried to maneuver around and hold both her wrists down with one of his hands. And he was successful... somewhat... actually not really, because she kept squirming around, her legs kicking his, kneeling him and he tried to reach for the bag of candy again but now it was practically under her body. Of course, it didn't help that he had just been shooting for 10 hours, that he was exhausted and she was on a sugar high. The odds of him winning now were lower, much lower, than usual. He began to feel his body grow heavier and he sighed, tried to come up with a different plan but his mind was completely drugged on exhaustion. 

"What's the matter, pretty boy?" She teased. "Not strong enough to fight off a girl?" 

He looked at her, giving her a hard look because even though he was on top of her she clearly had the upper hand. Of course, that's what happens when you grow up with a brother. He'd probably taught her to wrestle and defend herself at an early age. 

Not him. He grew up with sisters. Sisters who had taught him nothing of use except how to accessorize and be gentle and respect women. Her upbringing consisted of rough games and brutality – his had revolved around mediocre Easy Bake Over recipes and perfectly dressed Barbie dolls. Still, he should've known that as soon as he let his guard down she would move in for the kill. Even guys who were dressed up like girls constantly during their childhood should know that. So he wasn't at all surprised when she kicked him off her with extraordinary strength, pinned him down against the floor and straddled him, holding his wrists down just as he'd been holding hers.
 "Ha!" she said viciously, wicked smile on her face. He sighed and looked around the floor. 

"Alright, alright, you win." 

"Louder," she said, pushing on his forearm with her fist. He grimaced in pain. 

"You win." 

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear that," she said gently.

 "You win!" He yelled, feeling humiliated and thanking God at that moment they were the only people around, not that the rest of them wouldn't find out anyway. He looked at her and she was smiling proudly. Oh, he was gonna hear about this one for the rest of his life. She could be the most arrogant person in the world whenever she beat him at something, which was invariably. And it was weird, cause she wasn't like that with other people. With other people she was humble, even shy and embarrassed if she won at something, she was graceful.

Not with him. She loved to beat him and she loved to rub it in his face each time. He was pretty sure five seconds from now the entire cast would know how she had beaten the crap out of him. And they would laugh at him. Hard. He tried to get up, walk away with at least some dignity, but she pushed him back down to the floor again. And he frowned, because it was such a contradiction of images, her looking down at him with her long brown hair falling down upon his shirt, looking all angelic and innocent, but still gripping his wrist down so strongly he was sure she would leave red marks there, her other fist still closed, protecting her precious red Skittles. 

He sighed again. "Can I leave now or will you not be satisfied until you see blood?" 

She narrowed her eyes at him, looking a bit crazy and psychotic and Robert suddenly really began to fear for his life. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and it was only then when he became aware, too aware, of their position. He was about to warn her about that, let her know that if someone walked by and saw them there, her straddling him, holding him down like that, they would definitely get the wrong impression. And Kristen wouldn't like that. She was as protective of her privacy as she was of that stupid bag of candy. 

Still, there was something weird about the look on her face, because at that moment he got the feeling she didn't care about what others might think. At that moment he got the feeling she was thinking something weird, and that was a bad thing. He could usually read her like an open book and when he couldn't, bad things happened. Really bad things. He'd get the shit beaten out of him, for one. Was she thinking of shooting him now? 

Then again, once could never know what was going through her head, because he got the feeling she was also very aware of their current position. He also got the feeling she was enjoying their current position, and not in a predatory way. And Robert’s mind was completely crippled, but a little part of it still sent out some sort of warning signal that was pretty much ignored when the rest of his crippled mind realized she was leaning down, still smiling, her eyes transfixed on his lips. 

He frowned before their lips met; his eyes remained open as he tried to figure out what the hell was happening. Though he didn't react much, or at all, that didn't faze her one bit. She deposited slow kisses on his lips, weird, he thought, that merely five seconds ago she was kicking him and punching him and bruising him, but was now kissing him so gently he could've sworn this was a completely different girl on top of him. 

She let go of his wrists and then he finally reacted, kissed her back but still remained alert, because for all he knew this could've been her version of the Kiss of Death and she would strike him down at any moment. But that theory went straight out the window when she made the tiniest little moaning sound and he suddenly felt like she'd blown his mind, parted her lips with his tongue and she breathed in with pleasure. Of course. With regular girls all he had to do was flash a perfect row of white teeth and they instantly became jell-o. Not with her. She had to beat the crap out of you first, give you a concussions, lacerations, and broken ribs, and then, and only then, she would let you kiss her. 

He brushed her hair back and rested his hand on the back of her neck to pull her down closer. He felt something sticky in his other hand and then realized her fist had finally opened and a handful of red Skittles now rained on his hand. But he didn't care about them anymore, merely let them all fall on the floor and he tangled his fingers in her sticky hand. She moaned lightly again and he was so tired and sleep deprived, at one point he thought he was dreaming it all. He felt lightheaded and dizzy, hypnotized by the slow movements of her tongue as he tasted her, her and candy and sugar – this was definitely better than eating the Skittles straight out of the bag. He trailed a hand down her back and settled it on her butt, catching her off guard and though he was expecting her to fly off the handle she didn't. Score one for him. 

So he deepened the kiss, reaching into her mouth with his tongue, premeditating all her moves and beating her to them. He rose, sat up and she sat back on his thighs, sticky hand on his neck and breathing rapidly. Each of his hands grabbed a butt cheek and he slid her over, turned it dangerous and he could've sworn he heard the alarm bells in her head ringing. She turned her head to the side, ending the kiss and after one slow peck on her neck he stopped, too, tired and hyper at the same time. She pulled back and looked at him, like a little girl who'd behaved badly and was waiting for some sort of punishment. He chuckled and sighed, trying by sheer concentration to make the tightness in his pants subside. Wasn't working very well, not when she was still straddling him.

 "Uh," he said a bit nervously. 

"You know, my mother did tell me not to play rough with girls, but I think she forgot to mention this part."

 She grinned. "Don't flatter yourself." 

She narrowed her eyes at him then, hating the smug look on his face and he grinned when she leaned in again, brushing her lips against his, trailing a hand down his chest, parting her lips and exploring his tongue with hers. But then suddenly she pushed him away with one hand, leaving him confused. 

"Rob, someone might walk in." 

He shook his head. What the hell? "You're the one who's kissing me." 

She looked at him as if the words he had just spoken were offensive and he sighed. Typical, blaming him for her weaknesses, her temptations. Not that he wasn't used to it. He couldn't really understand what was going through her mind, had just learned to accept a long time ago that this attraction happening between them was his entire fault. Every time she relapsed and let herself get a bit too carried away by it was his fault, too, even when he had nothing to do with it, even when he wasn't even around. It was just his fault. Period. No arguing. He was to blame. 

Hell, she had just kissed him. Twice. She'd kissed him and now, in her mind, she'd come to see it as another one of the things she did that were his fault. And yet he couldn't believe he let her get away with it each time. 

"Alright," he breathed, feeling even more intense when she moved away and stood up. She offered a hand and he looked at it, wondering briefly if she was gonna start playing dirty again, but he took it and she helped him on his feet, swatting some of the dust on his shirt with her hand.

He looked at the bag of candy on the floor, at his disposal now and he knew she couldn't care, but he just ignored it, looked at his watch and made some sort of noncommittal comment about how he had to get to his hotel and get into bed before he passed out. She merely nodded and let him walk around her, brushing her hair with her hands and trying to make herself presentable, just in case anybody out there became suspicious. 

It was gonna happen anyway, he knew that, because the fans and media people were pretty much waiting for it to happen, feeding on the gossip like vultures. Hell, he was pretty sure there was a pool going around the cast. How long before Robert and Kristen jump at each other. The truly stupid people had missed the target by years. The smart ones had probably bet on 'never.' 

And though something had finally happened, something somewhat concrete, he knew this wasn't a beginning. At all. This was just another one of the things they did. Two days from now he'd come back to work and they wouldn't talk about it. She wouldn't let him. It would just go down as one of those things that made their relationship and that was that. Maybe in a year or two it would happen again, but again, nothing solid would come out of it. Maybe he was a pessimist or maybe he knew her too well from only knowing her a few months. Maybe it was just a little bit of both. 

"Hey," she called out, waving the bag of candy in front of her and he turned around. "You're not even going to take the red Skittles?"

 "Nah," He said dismissively, feeling, for the first time since she began to beat him up, that maybe, just maybe, he'd won after all. "I already got a good taste." 

She frowned at him, looking pissed and perplexed, and he smiled cockily. 

"Ha!" he said victoriously and walked away, didn't even flinch when a jawbreaker hit him square on the back of his head. 

The end.