Sin City - Wendy/Goldie - A bed is going to be my grave
Title: A bed is going to be my grave
Fandom: Sin City
Pairing: Wendy/Goldie
Word Count: 20
Rating: G
Challenge/Prompt: #425: "bed"
Wendy watches how Goldie lies in her bed and smokes a cigarette. Her expression is stern, lost in thoughts.
“What is it? You seem so serious.”
Goldie shakes her head. “I’m just thinking. Of our life.”
Wendy shrugs. “What about it?”
Goldie turns her head and looks at her sister. It is like they would look into a mirror, and Wendy smiles. But her living reflection doesn’t.
“Are you happy?”
Wendy’s smile falters. “I am. Kinda. We have a good life.”
Goldie sighs and returns her gaze to the ceiling, inhales more of the blue smoke.
“Beds are so important in our life. We spent more time in them than any other woman.”
Wendy gets up from the couch to lie next to her twin, golden locks mingling when she rests her head next to Goldie’s.
“I think a bed is even going to be my grave.”
“What makes you say that?” Wendy doesn’t like the sound of that.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just tired.” Goldie’s voice is barely a whisper, so Wendy takes the cigarette and puts it out.
“Then go to sleep, sweetheart. We’ll be alright.”
Goldie doesn’t answer; she just shifts and closes her eyes.
Fandom: Sin City
Pairing: Wendy/Goldie
Word Count: 20
Rating: G
Challenge/Prompt: #425: "bed"
Wendy watches how Goldie lies in her bed and smokes a cigarette. Her expression is stern, lost in thoughts.
“What is it? You seem so serious.”
Goldie shakes her head. “I’m just thinking. Of our life.”
Wendy shrugs. “What about it?”
Goldie turns her head and looks at her sister. It is like they would look into a mirror, and Wendy smiles. But her living reflection doesn’t.
“Are you happy?”
Wendy’s smile falters. “I am. Kinda. We have a good life.”
Goldie sighs and returns her gaze to the ceiling, inhales more of the blue smoke.
“Beds are so important in our life. We spent more time in them than any other woman.”
Wendy gets up from the couch to lie next to her twin, golden locks mingling when she rests her head next to Goldie’s.
“I think a bed is even going to be my grave.”
“What makes you say that?” Wendy doesn’t like the sound of that.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just tired.” Goldie’s voice is barely a whisper, so Wendy takes the cigarette and puts it out.
“Then go to sleep, sweetheart. We’ll be alright.”
Goldie doesn’t answer; she just shifts and closes her eyes.