FANFIC BIT: Dollhouse, D/D
Dollhouse snippet
DeWitt/Dominic
She starts to bend over to retrieve her pen, but he is quicker than she is. He grabs the cheap ball point pen - Topher’s, he knows, DeWitt would never choose it on her own - that rests near the tip of her brown leather shoe. He stands up slowly, following the length of legs encased in beige silk stockings, nearly as pale as her skin.
“Your pen, Ms. DeWitt,” he says, handing it back to her.
She smiles tightly, professionally, as she grabs the end of the pen. They hold it there, together, for half a moment; her eyes never leave his. The she steps back, walking briskly to her desk. She sits, elegantly as always, crossing her ankles as she spins her chair to her desk. He gently pushes her chair in.
“I’m going to have to… take another trip,” she says, opening a file. Her hair spills over her nearly-bare shoulders, curls dancing down the soft, crimson silk. She is always impeccably dressed, always perfectly put together. She is so unassuming - naïve in her own way; Adelle DeWitt is the epitome of control. She is neat, orderly, locked up tight. His hand grips the back of her chair as he think, for just a moment, the kind of chaos that she will inevitably face.
She leans back a little and notices his hand. He draws back, knuckles brushing her shoulder. Her skin is softer than the silk.
“A trip?” he asks, walking around to the front of her desk, absently adjusting his tie.
She nods, almost imperceptibly, and continues shuffling her papers. How, he wonders, can she act so unaware, when to him her very presence is spread out to every corner of the room.
“Going to see the higher-ups?”
Her lips purse. “Yes,” she says, obviously displeased by this fact.
~~~
I may refine and finish this. Eventually.
DeWitt/Dominic
She starts to bend over to retrieve her pen, but he is quicker than she is. He grabs the cheap ball point pen - Topher’s, he knows, DeWitt would never choose it on her own - that rests near the tip of her brown leather shoe. He stands up slowly, following the length of legs encased in beige silk stockings, nearly as pale as her skin.
“Your pen, Ms. DeWitt,” he says, handing it back to her.
She smiles tightly, professionally, as she grabs the end of the pen. They hold it there, together, for half a moment; her eyes never leave his. The she steps back, walking briskly to her desk. She sits, elegantly as always, crossing her ankles as she spins her chair to her desk. He gently pushes her chair in.
“I’m going to have to… take another trip,” she says, opening a file. Her hair spills over her nearly-bare shoulders, curls dancing down the soft, crimson silk. She is always impeccably dressed, always perfectly put together. She is so unassuming - naïve in her own way; Adelle DeWitt is the epitome of control. She is neat, orderly, locked up tight. His hand grips the back of her chair as he think, for just a moment, the kind of chaos that she will inevitably face.
She leans back a little and notices his hand. He draws back, knuckles brushing her shoulder. Her skin is softer than the silk.
“A trip?” he asks, walking around to the front of her desk, absently adjusting his tie.
She nods, almost imperceptibly, and continues shuffling her papers. How, he wonders, can she act so unaware, when to him her very presence is spread out to every corner of the room.
“Going to see the higher-ups?”
Her lips purse. “Yes,” she says, obviously displeased by this fact.
~~~
I may refine and finish this. Eventually.