From
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.
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.
From:
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.