Bad Romance.

He found himself at her apartment again, this time when the sun was setting. But this time, their clothes stayed on.

KC didn’t expect him; she was in baggy, rolled up jeans and an old McKinley shirt, all rumpled and lazy. But he couldn’t think she was any more gorgeous.

She welcomed him in, and he hears the soft hum coming from an iPod speaker. He doesn’t recognize the artist, so he wanders over to take a peek.

“Iron & Wine?” Sam asks as he reads the tiny screen, the name not ringing a bell.

“Samuel Beam’s kind of my favorite artist,” she admits. He nods, and follows her into the kitchen when she offers him food or a drink. She was boiling water when he got there, so when she asks if tea is okay, he says he doesn’t mind.

As she’s adding the sugar to hers, she hears that the live version of Flightless Bird, American Mouth has come on. She grins to herself, prompting Sam to question her about it.

“This is my favorite thing I’ve heard from Iron & Wine,” she tells him. Looking up at him, she takes the cup from him and slides her arms around his neck.

“What are you doing?” he asks, confused.

“I want you to dance with me,” she says, and he smiles, putting his hands on her waist. They move slowly, calmly, together. She leans against him, and he holds her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head. They don’t talk, or hum, or sing. They dance, until he stops. KC looks up at him, about to ask him something, but he silences her before she speaks, craning his neck down to kiss her gently. The kiss is soft, sweet.

They stand in the middle of her kitchen, kissing, until they need air and break apart. They just gaze at one another, and Sam smiles at her. He kisses her again.