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nhawk78: ...list all the first lines of your fics and then people write drabbles in the comments with the same first line."
And yet all my first lines seem dumb and ridiculously story-specific. Huh.
1. She's exhausted.
2. She wakes up next to him, hand on his back.
3. It's ten days after the SGC is shut down, ten days after control is handed to a civilian agency that has reviewed their files and will call if they have any questions, thanks, and he is here, lying on the dock at Jack's cabin, feet dangling over the edge, lying perpendicular to his lover of nine days, head on his lover's chest.
4. This isn’t a date.
5. Daniel drags her topside fifteen days after they return from the Antarctic.
6. Jack O'Neill thinks he’s taught his team a little too well that no one gets left behind.
7. She's always had this idea in her head of what love is.
Ah, 3 showcases my irrational love for run-on sentences, and 6 is the entire story in 2 words or less. hmma.
In other news, Pumpkin Spice lattes are back at Starbucks starting today. They're my heaven. Mmmm.
nhawk78: ...list all the first lines of your fics and then people write drabbles in the comments with the same first line."And yet all my first lines seem dumb and ridiculously story-specific. Huh.
1. She's exhausted.
2. She wakes up next to him, hand on his back.
3. It's ten days after the SGC is shut down, ten days after control is handed to a civilian agency that has reviewed their files and will call if they have any questions, thanks, and he is here, lying on the dock at Jack's cabin, feet dangling over the edge, lying perpendicular to his lover of nine days, head on his lover's chest.
4. This isn’t a date.
5. Daniel drags her topside fifteen days after they return from the Antarctic.
6. Jack O'Neill thinks he’s taught his team a little too well that no one gets left behind.
7. She's always had this idea in her head of what love is.
Ah, 3 showcases my irrational love for run-on sentences, and 6 is the entire story in 2 words or less. hmma.
In other news, Pumpkin Spice lattes are back at Starbucks starting today. They're my heaven. Mmmm.
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He can't feel his feet anymore, but that could just be because he doesn't have them anymore. From his position over Teal'c's shoulder, he's not really in any shape to check.
Jack can hear Carter yelling something in the distance. It's cut off by gun and energy fire, but the little bit of his brain not coated in shock and furballs does a little dance of joy. He knows Daniel's there somewhere. Knows it because it hasn't been proved differently, and Daniel's really really hard to kill.
Kinda like him. Not that he's good at dying and coming back. Just that he, Jack O'Neill, is good at not doing it in the first place.
Teal'c comes down in some type of pot hole, his shoulder jamming hard into Jack's stomach, and for a moment it's all the slumped man can do not to pass out.
They're here against orders, again. They're here for him, again.
And before he passes out, all he can think is that he's taught them well. And it's enough.
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Well...
Odd boy, that one.
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But mmm...Starbucks. I wonder if the Starbucks on campus will have those.
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They don't really do dates.
Dating is against the rules, for one thing. Ill-advised drunken sex... well, at the very least it's easy to explain it away. ("Really, General, we had no idea what we were doing, won't happen again we promise...")
But since they do this a lot these days, and since they pretty much arrange it knowing what's going to happen, then, yeah, it kind of is a date after all.
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Couch Sex! Couch sex with Daniel in the room! And fucked-up-ed-ness? *loves*
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Pretty, pretty. Cuz Daniel was in the room and that makes it sad.
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She's exhausted.
They have spent the last ten days working to get things back together. Every night she falls asleep on the ground as far away as she can get. And every morning, she wakes up just a little bit closer to him. Soon, she knows she will be curled into his side.
It's not that she doesn't want to be.
But Daniel has never been the man she craved. And he knows it.
She knows, too, that hating him will not bring General Jack O'Neill back. But it helps, even as she slides closer to him in her dreams.
=-=-
This isn't a date.
Daniel keeps trying to convince himself of that. What he's seeing is not his two best friends slowly shutting him out as they step into a strange and awkward little world of their own.
On some level, he doesn't want to believe that he can be this petty and selfish. That he can demand of people around him that he remain the center of their lives. But, just for a moment, he wants to. He wants and craves their attention, wishes they'd give it.
But they're too busy breaking the regulations without any overt signs to notice.
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(and I was so supposed to write fluff, and... didn't...)
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And the second one? Made me cackle like an evil woman. Poor, poor Daniel. Or not. The little attention whore. Hee. (But yes, I felt bad for him at the same time, so huh.)
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*pets*
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She's exhausted. It's why she is curled up with the ice cream devotedly ignoring all unwanted thoughts and halfway listening to the television through the drowsy haze of her thoughts.
Tired is normal. She's dealt with tired. She can't deal with sleepy. It's too casual, and she's discovered her subconscious is too smart for her. A thought here or a thought there-
Carter suddenly misses a time when it was safe to just let everything go, if she ever had such a time. She sets the ice cream to the side and leans against the headboard. Her eyes slip shut.
(I shall now go butcher Smallville for smut purposes!)
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pants!verse for elly! (of course)
Sam shouldn't be here. She really shouldn't be here curled up with him in her bed -- not her bed, his bed, his guest bed, but they have both been calling it hers for a scarily long time. No matter that they're still both fully dressed, that it seemed totally reasonable that he lie down with her the night before because they were fighting over the same book and thought it would be amusing to read it aloud to each other...
This is still against the rules. Their rules. She can't think about the other rules -- that's too overwhelming, and she hates being in the wrong.
Jack sighs into the pillow, the edge of his breath just brushing against her cheek. She squeezes her eyes closed and tries to tighten her body against how relaxing and good this feels, because she can't want this so badly and she shouldn't feel comforted by his morning breath. What they have is enough. What they have is incredible, most of the time, freeing and fun and warm and friendly so that she doesn't think about the parts that they're still missing.
One of his hands finds her hip in his sleep, slips underneath her t-shirt to settle in the dip of her waist. He sighs again and slips deeper into sleep, his eyes flicking in dreams beneath closed lids as a fleeting smile crosses his features.
It feels too right for her to disturb him. She can't slip out of his arms and run back to her place while he's asleep. It won't be fair to him. It won't be fair to her.
She knows that if she panics they won't do this again, that they'll pull back from the line of propriety they keep redrawing.
She can't fall back asleep, but doesn't mind just watching him bathed in the dawn light from her -- his -- her bedroom window. It's less wrong if he's still out and can't see her staring at him, doesn't have the chance to guess what she's thinking.
She shouldn't be here, but she isn't going to go.