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dropsofviolet in animdisneyfic

Charme (Ratatouille: Linguini/Collette)

Title: Charme
Length: 404 words
Prompt: Porn Battle VII: Ratatouille, Collette/Linguini, it's Paris!
Pairing: Linguini/Collette
Other: PG-13 for implied sex
Excerpt: He has curly red hair and she tangles her fingers in it, kissing him with the same precision that she has when she cooks, and she pushes his sleeves up and runs her hands along his forearms.

It's Paris. She will never stop being thrilled that it's Paris and she lives here, that she rides her motorbike to work and she works in the best restaurant in the city.

She dreamed of coming here for so long, back when she was working long hours as a waitress in small diners, washing dishes until her fingers cracked and bled. She waited tables and wiped them down and all the time, she dreamed.

A chef is practical, and even Collette's dreams were practical, back then. She wanted to work in a nice cafe and work her way into the big league, to wear the hat and cook the soup and take every challenge that the boss put before her, until she was the best. Practical: not necessarily modest.

She also wanted, had she the time to find one, a suave French boyfriend. She's had four since coming here, four suave men with oily hair and a propensity for smooth lies and skirt-chasing. There's a reason she carries the mace. So she'd given up on that dream, until Linguini tripped into her life.

He has the soul of Paris in him, when he cooks; he's awkward and gawky but there's something more in him then, something that transcends the way he seems to have too many elbows and can't remember to shut his mouth half the time.

He has curly red hair and she tangles her fingers in it, kissing him with the same precision that she has when she cooks, and she pushes his sleeves up and runs her hands along his forearms. He's mumbling something, because he always is, but she ignores it, leaning back and pulling his arms around her to meet at the small of her back, where she likes his hands. She pulls back out of the kiss and winks at him, which never ceases to make him stop thinking and start kissing back.

His fingers begin to play with the hem of her shirt and she begins to unbutton his uniform, pressing her face into his bony chest and inhaling the musk of someone who worked hard in the kitchen-- sweat and spices. She licks his nipple, and he gasps.

"Shall we?" she says then, tugging his top from his shoulders and pulling him towards the bedroom, and he smiles, that stupid grin that she loves.

"Collette," he says, with no French in his accent, and it's the sexiest thing.

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