Challenge 24: Quick Fic
Title: Shards of Glass
Prompt: The Sounds of Breaking Glass, Chicken
Bonus? No
Word Count: 220
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Orignal
Pairings (if any) Cassandra/Rick
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con etc):
Summary: Rick was anger, and Cassie couldn't think of why.
Link:
The sound of breaking glass broke Cassandra out of her quiet contemplation. Rick was red with anger, staring at the shards of that broken vase, colored glass sparkling beneath dirtied water and rotted flower petals.
It was an ugly piece, gifted to them from his mother, and a small part of her was glad of its death, the rest of her was simple indifferent.
“Cassie,” he fumed.
She shook her head. His anger was for what, again? Cassandra couldn’t remember, or else, her swollen headed red-neck of a husband hadn’t stopped spitting at her long enough explain.
Men.
“Rick,” she responded, almost indifferent.
Cassie stood up and walked toward him, blocking his view of the broken glass. She reached out and held a hand to him, hoping to calm him before the children woke, ignoring the fact that she shouldn’t have had to do so in the first place.
“Sweetie,” she rubbed at the tense neck, “It’s just some chickens. Yeah, it’s earlier than planned, but planned none the less. How was I to know something like this was would happen and that you would need to money for it. We’ll make it in the meantime.”
Cassandra watched him calm, took his hand and led him to bed, shutting out the lights. She’d clean the glass up in the morning.
Prompt: The Sounds of Breaking Glass, Chicken
Bonus? No
Word Count: 220
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Orignal
Pairings (if any) Cassandra/Rick
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con etc):
Summary: Rick was anger, and Cassie couldn't think of why.
Link:
The sound of breaking glass broke Cassandra out of her quiet contemplation. Rick was red with anger, staring at the shards of that broken vase, colored glass sparkling beneath dirtied water and rotted flower petals.
It was an ugly piece, gifted to them from his mother, and a small part of her was glad of its death, the rest of her was simple indifferent.
“Cassie,” he fumed.
She shook her head. His anger was for what, again? Cassandra couldn’t remember, or else, her swollen headed red-neck of a husband hadn’t stopped spitting at her long enough explain.
Men.
“Rick,” she responded, almost indifferent.
Cassie stood up and walked toward him, blocking his view of the broken glass. She reached out and held a hand to him, hoping to calm him before the children woke, ignoring the fact that she shouldn’t have had to do so in the first place.
“Sweetie,” she rubbed at the tense neck, “It’s just some chickens. Yeah, it’s earlier than planned, but planned none the less. How was I to know something like this was would happen and that you would need to money for it. We’ll make it in the meantime.”
Cassandra watched him calm, took his hand and led him to bed, shutting out the lights. She’d clean the glass up in the morning.