FIC: Insomniac - 1/1, Aliens, PG, Ripley/Hicks
Title: Insomniac
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Fandom: Aliens
Pairing: Ellen Ripley/Dwayne Hicks
Rating: PG
Word count: 411
Summary: the only cure for sleepless nights
Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. But if you believe this really happened, I've got some prime real estate I wanna sell you…
Author's Notes: The 'first day of Christmas' for azewewish, because I may as well kick off the month with her. ;)
It's the same thing, night after night. It's not as bad now as it was in the beginning, before Hicks was fully healed, before Bishop was put back together better than Humpty Dumpty, before Newt grew up and remembered laughter and sunshine and the things that really mattered.
It's not as bad, but when it comes, it's relentless. And it's night after night after night, with snatches here and there, until Ripley thinks she's going to lose her mind. Thinks she's already lost it.
Then, when it's at its worst, when all Ripley can hear is the scream of metal, when all she can see is multiple jaws opening, claws coming for her, Hicks is there.
Come with me, he says, and she follows because his grip on her wrist is gentle, but relentless.
It's not back to bed that he leads her, but to the kitchen with its little breakfast nook and its shiny chrome appliances. He tucks her into the nook, wraps a blanket around her shoulders, and sets a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream in front of her with two spoons.
It's silly and trite, but it's exactly what she needs. That he knows is no longer a surprise, because mint chocolate chip ice cream, according to Hicks (and Newt) will cure anything. Even sleepless nights.
Sometimes, Ripley knows, it's the only thing that will work.
So they share the tub, with Ripley eating most of it (Hicks doesn't mind), and he makes her laugh towards the end.
He always knows what she needs before she needs it. Before she even realizes it's possible to need. It's how he ended up moving in to her apartment all those years ago. After he healed, after Bishop became a finished jigsaw puzzle, before Newt grew up.
It's a big reason they're still together.
She holds up the last spoon of ice cream, but he waves it away. I'm not the one who can't sleep, he points out, and she nods as she sucks the ice cream from the spoon before he leads her to their bedroom. He doesn't say another word as he eases her thin t-shirt up and over her head, doesn't say another word as his fingertips trace the lines of her body, doesn't say another word as he eases her back to the bed and pins her there, his weight warm and welcome above her.
He doesn't need to say a thing. Ripley already knows.
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Fandom: Aliens
Pairing: Ellen Ripley/Dwayne Hicks
Rating: PG
Word count: 411
Summary: the only cure for sleepless nights
Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. But if you believe this really happened, I've got some prime real estate I wanna sell you…
Author's Notes: The 'first day of Christmas' for azewewish, because I may as well kick off the month with her. ;)
It's the same thing, night after night. It's not as bad now as it was in the beginning, before Hicks was fully healed, before Bishop was put back together better than Humpty Dumpty, before Newt grew up and remembered laughter and sunshine and the things that really mattered.
It's not as bad, but when it comes, it's relentless. And it's night after night after night, with snatches here and there, until Ripley thinks she's going to lose her mind. Thinks she's already lost it.
Then, when it's at its worst, when all Ripley can hear is the scream of metal, when all she can see is multiple jaws opening, claws coming for her, Hicks is there.
Come with me, he says, and she follows because his grip on her wrist is gentle, but relentless.
It's not back to bed that he leads her, but to the kitchen with its little breakfast nook and its shiny chrome appliances. He tucks her into the nook, wraps a blanket around her shoulders, and sets a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream in front of her with two spoons.
It's silly and trite, but it's exactly what she needs. That he knows is no longer a surprise, because mint chocolate chip ice cream, according to Hicks (and Newt) will cure anything. Even sleepless nights.
Sometimes, Ripley knows, it's the only thing that will work.
So they share the tub, with Ripley eating most of it (Hicks doesn't mind), and he makes her laugh towards the end.
He always knows what she needs before she needs it. Before she even realizes it's possible to need. It's how he ended up moving in to her apartment all those years ago. After he healed, after Bishop became a finished jigsaw puzzle, before Newt grew up.
It's a big reason they're still together.
She holds up the last spoon of ice cream, but he waves it away. I'm not the one who can't sleep, he points out, and she nods as she sucks the ice cream from the spoon before he leads her to their bedroom. He doesn't say another word as he eases her thin t-shirt up and over her head, doesn't say another word as his fingertips trace the lines of her body, doesn't say another word as he eases her back to the bed and pins her there, his weight warm and welcome above her.
He doesn't need to say a thing. Ripley already knows.