tebtosca

Title: Somebody Calling Me On
Pairing: Sandy/Cindy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3400
Warnings: Unbeta’ed college AU romcom schmoop
Disclaimer: Don't own, still broke
Summary: The Epic Love Adventures of Sandy McCoy: Dorky English Major and Cindy Sampson: Perfect Goddess

Notes: Written for feathertofly since she is the only one who truly appreciates the OTPness of these two ladies. Even though they’ve most likely never met. Minor detail!

Sandy knows she’s a dork.

Seriously, she’s totally fine with it. After all, she’s learned to deal with the fact that she’s so near-sighted that she can’t make it to the bathroom without tripping before she gets her glasses on. Okay, and she’s an English major and, really, who is an English major anymore, right? But it’s just all those wonderful words! It’s like, Sandy needs words like oxygen. And, alright, she once—once!—masturbated to "Battlestar Galactica," but come the fuck on, Starbuck is hot!

Sandy’s had years (nineteen of them and counting) to deal with her level of dorkitude. Embrace, accept, be proud. Repeat “Mensa is cool” ad naseum. Listen to the little voice of her best friend Gen in her head: “confidence, McCoy! I’m sure lots of people are attracted to librarians.”

None of that helps her at all when she’s standing in front of Cindy Sampson, the most glorious creature that ever existed, as she, for some odd reason, deigns to ask Sandy out.

“So, hey,” Cindy smiles and it’s like, no joke, the sun.

Sandy stares at her dumbly.

Cindy’s smile dims a tiny bit, but she continues on in one huge rush. “So I’ve been pining like an idiot for, what is it, a year or something, oh man, and I was certain that you didn’t like girls or were dating Gen or something but Adrianne said to suck it up and ask you out already so I can stop talking about you constantly and driving her insane.” She pauses. “Or something.”

Then Cindy blushes to the roots of her epic, perfect, miraculous hair.

“I like girls!” Sandy squeaks, and she feels pretty proud of herself that she manages to get even that much out.

Cindy lets out a huge rush of air, like she was holding her breath. Sandy’s not sure though, because the idea that The Goddess That Haunts Her Dreams is asking her out is about all the information her synapses can handle at one time.

“That’s awesome. That’s probably a lot better than awesome actually,” Cindy laughs and it’s as melodic as church bells. And holy shit, Sandy needs to stop thinking in bad similes or they are going to revoke her English degree before she even gets a chance to earn it.

When Sandy makes no move to talk and just stands there staring at her, Cindy keeps going.

“Is this Friday okay? We can go see X-Men, I hear it’s super gay,” Cindy offers, looking hopeful, and if Sandy didn’t consider her a perfect deity before, then her offering to take her to a homoerotic comic book movie would seal the deal.

Sandy opens her mouth, positive that this time sound will come out, but nope, nada.

“Just nod,” Cindy says, and this time her smile is kind of fond in a way that makes Sandy want to tackle her to the ground and hump her face.

So Sandy nods, and she now has three days to prepare for a date with her Perfect Girl.

+++++

“You do realize that if you hyperventilate and die before Friday you’ll never be able to say that you went out with Cindy Sampson,” Gen says later on that night with her usual logic and wisdom.

Sandy flails bodily from her place on her own bed across the room from her roommate and best friend.

“And,” Gen continues on, “if you fall off the bed and break your leg or something it’s also gonna be a moot point because the movie theater has crap accessibility for disabled people.”

Sandy sits up and looks at her with a pout. “Why would she ask me out, Gen? I don’t get it. I mean, I’m me and she’s Cindy Sampson. How does that even work?”

Cindy is a junior and pre-med and President of the GSA. Everybody loves her. She’s like the shining beacon of out, proud, and beautiful lesbianism. Sandy is, well, a sophomore whose entire sexual history consists of giving Jared Padalecki the prom night blowjob that made him realize he was gay.

Gen interrupts her mental pity party. “You are the only person who doesn’t realize how amazing you are.”

Sandy snorts.

“Just don’t do that on your date,” Gen insists and Sandy throws a pillow at her.

+++++

Sandy blinks up at the screen. And blinks again. Tears prick the edges of her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Cindy whispers over to her, placing her hand lightly on Sandy’s arm.

Oh great, how is Sandy supposed to concentrate on all her blinking when Cindy is touching her?

Sandy sniffs a little and attempts to just blink one eye at a time, to no avail. “Fine, yeah, I’m fine.”

Cindy doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? You’re crying and while the plight of the mutants hiding their identities as a metaphor for the struggle of visibility in the gay rights community is a poignant one, it’s not exactly a tear-jerker.”

Sandy wonders if there is a way to be both incredibly turned on and want to die at the same time.

“It’s my contacts,” Sandy mumbles, hoping Cindy won’t hear her and will just leave her there to die all horny on the popcorn and soda-covered floor of the movie theater.

“What was that?”

“I said it’s my contacts. I’m not used to wearing them and I have sensitive eyes and, well, just let me sit here and die in peace, okay?” Sandy rambles on, slouching down in her seat as far as she can go.

Hmmm, did she really say that last part out loud?

Cindy’s laugh is so loud and bright that the guy in a seat two rows in front of them shushes her. She looks a little embarrassed at that, but then laughs again, softer this time.

“Why are you wearing contacts? Your glasses are adorable,” Cindy says with a twisty little smile that eats Sandy all up inside.

“They are not, stop,” Sandy replies, but Cindy’s smile is making her smile and she feels her cheeks heating up against her will.

Cindy bumps her shoulder with her own and brushes her hand against Sandy’s forearm again. “You’re right, they aren’t adorable. They’re totally sexy.”

“Oh god,” Sandy mouths to no one in particular.

Cindy slides her hand down Sandy’s hand and twines their fingers together.

It’s the only thing that preps her enough so she doesn’t pass out when Cindy kisses her goodnight three hours later. Cindy’s mouth tastes like the mint chip ice cream they had after the movie and her hand is heavy and warm on Sandy’s hip. Cindy whispers goodnight in her ear and Sandy stands outside her dorm room door and watches Cindy walk away long after she’s already gone.

+++++

It’s nine weeks, three days, and seven hours (but who’s counting?) since the moment Cindy asks her out when Sandy actually fully realizes she’s dating Cindy Sampson.

They are sitting in the quad under their favorite tree (yes, they have a favorite tree, magical, right?) eating lunch. The weather is just brisk enough for their outdoor lunch days to be coming to a close, but Sandy loves it. She calls it “cardigan weather” and, hello, what is better than a cardigan? Ok, maybe Cindy Sampson’s hand crawling up said cardigan, but that’s a mere detail.

Cindy is trying to convince Sandy that her unsweetened greek yogurt won’t actually kill her, when Sophia Bush waltzes up to them. Sandy’s heart stops beating a little bit, which is pretty dramatic, but this is Sophia Bush, Cindy’s perfect ex-girlfriend. If Cindy is the Queen of Majestic Lesbians, then Sophia is a high-level Princess. Like Princess Di level, but without the whole dead thing.

“Hey Cin.”

Cindy freezes with her spoon halfway to her mouth. “Hey Soph.”

Sandy looks back and forth between the two of them as they stare at each other. This is it, the moment she’s been both dreading and expecting. The moment when Cindy Sampson realizes that she’s Cindy Sampson and that the Cindy Sampsons of the world need to stick with the Sophia Bushes and not the Sandy McCoys.

“Have you met my girlfriend, Sandy?”

Sandy drops her peanut butter and jelly sandwich in her lap.

Sophia looks…well startled is probably the best word for it. She looks at Sandy like she just realized she was even there, but then covers smoothly with a tilt of her perfect little nose.

“Nice to meet you Sandy.” Sophia pauses, like she’s coming to a decision. Sandy sits and ponders whether she can actually defend herself if Sophia decides to try and stomp her with her Tory Burch riding boots.

Sophia gives them a rueful smile. “You take care, Cin.”

Cindy smiles back but continues on eating her yogurt. “You too, Soph.”

After Sophia has left and Sandy manages to wipe the fuzz off her sandwich, she turns to Cindy with a quizzical expression. “I’m your girlfriend?”

Maybe she just said it to get rid of Sophia. Maybe Sandy misheard her. Maybe this is all just Bobby Ewing’s dream sequence.

“Of course.” Cindy’s expression turns a little doubtful. “Aren’t you?”

“Fuck yeah, I am!” Sandy beams, smashing her mouth to Cindy’s and not even caring that she tastes like lactobacillus acidophilus.

+++++

It’s the day before they are set to leave for Thanksgiving break and they are snuggled up on Cindy’s couch watching (forcibly, per Sandy’s POV) her box set of season four of “The O.C.” (okay, so Cindy’s not perfect, Sandy finally realizes sadly, even though that Rachel Bilson is pretty cute).

Cindy, because she’s still awesome even if not perfect, lives off campus in a creaky old house with her best friends Adrianne and Jensen. Sandy was terrified the first time she met them and, if she’s being honest, she kind of hated them a little. Not that they weren’t perfectly sweet and nice and welcoming, because they totally were, but that made it even worse. It’s just that they are both twenty feet taller than Sandy and sprinkled in, like, golden fairydust. Trust Cindy Sampson’s best friends to be Tall Golden Fairy-Dusted Adonis Aphrodite Other Greek Gods and Such type people. Ugh, and the teeth. Big, gleaming, Crest White Strips teeth that make Sandy want to run back and hide under the orthodontist chair she spent three years in as a teenager.

“Hi Sandy!” Adrianne and Jensen say in unison, suddenly popping into the room. They smile Big Gleaming Smiles and Sandy licks her incisors self-consciously.

“Hi guys,” Sandy waves.

“Why are they so tall?” she whispers to Cindy.

“Not their fault you’re a hobbit,” Cindy whispers back and Sandy pinches her.

“We’re going out now. Both of us,” Jensen announces with a wink.

Sandy almost snorts but catches herself. Only Jensen can pull off winking without looking like a complete jackass.

Adrianne throws one long, fairy-dusted arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “Yup, both of us. Out. All night.”

“That’s fantastic, morons. Can you leave us alone now so we can get back to Seth Cohen, please?” Cindy says, unimpressed by the winking.

They depart with a totally synchronized snicker, their voices fading until they get out the door.

“Leaving now!’
“Totally gone!”
“Don’t miss us too much!”
“Do everything we would do but with more vagina!”

“So subtle,” Cindy rolls her eyes, but snuggles in closer to Sandy.

“So Jensen,” Sandy starts.

“So Jensen?” Cindy repeats, leaning back and looking a little wary.

Sandy laughs nervously. “No, not like so Jeeeeensen, more like, ah-ha, so Jensen!”

“Such a dork,” Cindy mumbles fondly, and Sandy doesn’t even blush anymore because she knows Cindy says it as an endearment. “So what about Jensen?”

“Jensen swings….different ways, right?”

Cindy snorts and it makes Sandy proud that she’s rubbing off on her even a little bit. “Jensen swings whichever way the wind, or whoever, will blow him. Why?”

Sandy can’t believe she’s even saying this. “Because Gen has been totally in love with him forever but if she found out I told you that she would totally kill me and then you would have no girlfriend to make out with so please don’t tell her.” Sandy pauses to take a deep breath. “Who am I kidding? You could totally find someone else to make out with, so my death doesn’t matter all too much.”

Cindy is too busy laughing to answer and before Sandy can even protest and tell her that both Gen’s love life and her own impending death is serious business, Cindy is moving on top of her and shoving her tongue down her throat.

“Oh, yeah, ok, this is ok,” Sandy murmurs around the tongue, as she reaches up to twist her hands in Cindy’s hair.

Cindy pulls back suddenly but a strand of saliva still connects them. That shouldn’t be as hot as it is to Sandy, but goddamn it is.

“Want to take this to my room?”

Sandy freezes. The one time they got far enough along to get their tops off, Gen had walked into the room. They tried not to let Gen’s hopping up and down and “oh shit, sorry, continue fornication!” ruin the mood, but, c’est la vie.

Cindy keeps kissing down her neck and Sandy suddenly can’t remember why she’s supposed to be nervous about this whole thing.

“Yeah,” Sandy finally replies, and her voice is huskier than she’s ever heard it. The last time she’d heard Gen’s voice sound like that she’d handed her a cough drop and some oolong tea.

Sandy decides to stop thinking about her best friend’s last bout of strep throat while her girlfriend’s pulling off her t-shirt.

If someone had told Sandy just four months ago that she would be lying half naked on Cindy Sampson’s polka dotted jersey sheets, she would have told them they were crazy. Actually, she would have laughed in their face and probably tripped and sprained her ankle. Again. Yet now, here she was, her naked boobs pressed against Cindy’s naked boobs and Sandy had to mentally convince herself that this wasn’t just some cosmic joke that was going to backfire on her.

Luckily, Cindy’s tongue is licking around the curve of Sandy’s right breast and to say it’s a distraction would be the understatement of the century. Sandy knows she’s probably supposed to be doing something right about now, but then Cindy’s entire mouth is on her nipple, and she’s tugging it with her teeth and Sandy can barely breathe with how turned on she is.

Then Cindy is pulling off Sandy’s jeans, and her nose is in Sandy’s bellybutton, and her mouth is tracing patterns along the edge of Sandy’s black cotton briefs. It’s good, better than good, better than that; it’s whatever word in the English language describes the feeling of good times infinity times pi. Sandy used to finger herself to the thought of this very moment, rub herself against her own sheets with the dream of Cindy Sampson’s face in the vicinity of Sandy’s, well, anything.

Cindy gets her panties off and her tongue is dancing gracefully against Sandy’s clit and there is nothing in the entire vocabulary of Sandy’s deepest fantasy life that can match what reality actually feels like.

Sandy feels almost wanton as she spreads her legs for Cindy, opening herself as far as she can go, one foot bumping against Cindy’s shoulder, the other hanging off the side of the bed. She suddenly feels brave, and wraps her fingers in the strands of Cindy’s head, pulling her in even deeper as Cindy’s tongue laps hungrily at her inner lips.

Sandy knows she’s not going to last, that she’s going to have the quickest orgasm of her life, and it’s all because Cindy is suddenly sucking on Sandy’s clit like it’s a Jolly Rancher.

“Cindy, oh my god,” Sandy gasps, and her whole body shakes with it. Cindy doesn’t stop, keeps sucking and licking and holding Sandy’s thighs apart with the meat of her palms.

It’s too much, she’s just too sensitive and overwhelmed, so Sandy pulls Cindy off by her hair. Cindy seems to like that as she growls and crawls back up Sandy’s body. She holds Sandy’s fist where it is in her hair, and Sandy gets with the program and keeps tugging at it as Cindy starts biting at Sandy’s mouth.

That’s her own taste, Sandy realizes, a little hysterical, but she lets Cindy kiss the breath out of her until all of her own juice is transferred back to her.

“I wanna try, let me try,” Sandy mumbles, and she doesn’t quite know what she’s saying, but she knows she wants it.

“You don’t have to, it’s okay,” Cindy says, kissing her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids, and it’s the sudden gentleness of her caress that convinces Sandy that there’s nothing she wants more than to please Cindy right back.

“Shut up, Sampson,” Sandy smirks, boldly pushing Cindy back on the bed and yanking off her jeans and thong all in one swift motion.

Sandy is mildly impressed with herself that she manages that part so smoothly.

Then she’s lying down between Cindy’s legs, her shoulders holding her thighs apart, and staring at Cindy’s epic, perfect, miraculous vagina. Suddenly Sandy realizes she has no fucking clue what’s she’s supposed to do now.

So Sandy just kind of goes for it and gets her entire face in there.

And then starts choking.

“Sorry, sorry, oh god, sorry,” Sandy says, still choking as she feels her entire face flush bright and hot.

Cindy starts laughing but when Sandy goes to move in an attempt to run from the room and jump off the first bridge she finds, Cindy squeezes her thighs together to keep her there. “Hey, trust me, my girlfriend’s face in my crotch is never going to be something I complain about.”

Sandy is still blushing, but Cindy is smiling lazily, and when Sandy licks her lips she taste Cindy on them and, wow, Cindy tastes way sweeter than her. She does eat lots of pineapple and, oh shit, Sandy hates pineapple, but maybe she can suck it up and learn to like it if it’s going to make her vag---

“I can almost hear you thinking,” Cindy cuts off Sandy’s inner angst-fest, knocking her knee against Sandy’s head.

“Sorry,” Sandy says, suddenly shy again.

Cindy reaches down and curls her fingers in Sandy’s hair. She pulls just a bit and, hey, Sandy totally gets why Cindy was kinking on that before. “I’m going to teach you so many things.”

Sandy looks up at her and then everything makes sense. Her voice is rough. “Is that right?”

Cindy brings her finger down to rub against Sandy’s lips, which are still sticky with her own pussy juice. Then she brings it down and starts tracing the finger up the line of her slit. “Mmmhmm. Starting right now.”

Sandy realizes Cindy is giving her a road map so she lets her guide her. She bends her head down and follows Cindy’s finger with her tongue, hitching a ride next to it as it runs slowly up and down Cindy’s folds. She adds her thumb after a minute and when it presses lightly against her clit, Sandy mimics the motion by flattening her tongue against it.

Cindy is making little mewling sounds and her hips are pressing up, so Sandy must be doing something right. It gives her courage and she starts sucking at Cindy’s clit in the same way Cindy did to hers. It’s long minutes before Sandy realizes that Cindy has removed her fingers and is using them to clutch the bed sheets instead.

Cindy cries out when she comes and when she gushes against Sandy’s mouth it’s the most powerful feeling Sandy’s ever experienced. She did that, Sandy McCoy: Dorky English Major. She made Cindy Sampson: Perfect Goddess wet the bed with her come.

Sandy is still overcome with emotion when Cindy pulls her up the bed and snuggles her close to her body.

“Why am I the little spoon?” Sandy complains sleepily.

Cindy just laughs and nuzzles into her neck.

“Hey Cindy,” Sandy murmurs after a while.

“Yeah?”

Sandy locks their fingers together. There are so many things she wants to tell her, so many things she wants to share and acknowledge, but Sandy finds she can’t pick just one.

“Me too,” Cindy says for her, and something settles soft and warm smack dab in the center of Sandy’s chest, pretty damn close to her rapidly beating heart.