Some nights, Lily wakes to find her bed cold, the other side empty despite the blankets thrown back and the lights out. She wanders from the bedroom to check on Harry, asleep in his pram in the little nursery, and muses silently at her husband's voice, hushed and urgent, in the living room down the hall. The two men might be laughing, covering their mouths so as not to wake the baby. They might be working, or reminiscing, or sometimes they just sit quietly in the firelight. She doesn't bother checking on him, and goes back to bed sure that he'll fill her in over coffee and pumpkin juice in the morning
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Oh my god! You filled my prompt! I had kind of lost hope for a while there. But this is beautiful, the way the drives become a cocoon of sanity for them, and the intensity of emotions that are kept by bay by the car doors. Allison is lovely in this, heartbreaking, lost, and yet solid in the company of Scott's earnestness and Stiles neverending chatter.
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I spent my whole life driving in cars with boys,
Riding 'round town drinking in the white noise
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Beautiful, through and through. Thanks so much!
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