(no subject)
Title: Warmth
Fandom: La Femme Nikita
Word Count: 301
Characters: Paul/Madeline
Summary: A little bit of fluff for an otherwise utterly unfluffy couple.
Prompt: #26 we are flying on wings in winter sky; with fire burning deep inside
The rain was beating against the windowpanes, but inside the apartment it was warm and comfortable. Madeline sat curled up on the end of the couch, her legs tucked underneath her and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The faint sounds of someone else's music were filtering through the too thin walls of the room, but she didn't care. In her hands she cradled a mug of freshly brewed coffee and she felt oddly at ease with the world. Outside, the world was grim and grey, but inside her apartment things were exactly as she wanted them to be. Exactly as she had arranged them.
Paul lay dozing, sprawled across the other end of the sofa, his tasselled hair begging to be touched. He looked ridiculously innocent when he was asleep, as though the weight of the world wasn't pressed down on his shoulders. If it hadn't been for the bruises so poorly concealed beneath the sweater he was wearing, she could have almost believed he hadn't nearly been killed only hours before.
She set the mug aside, acting on a foolish girlish impulse as she watched him sleep. Careful not to disturb him too much, she crawled along the couch and lay down beside him. With her head resting on his shoulder and the sound of rain at the window, she felt warm and safe in a space of her own making. Right there and right then, both Paul and she were alive and together. It wouldn't last long, couldn't last long, of course.
He stirred, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to his chest. She felt him press a sleepy kiss against the top of her head before he settled back into sleep. For now it didn't have to last long, it was simply enough.
Fandom: La Femme Nikita
Word Count: 301
Characters: Paul/Madeline
Summary: A little bit of fluff for an otherwise utterly unfluffy couple.
Prompt: #26 we are flying on wings in winter sky; with fire burning deep inside
The rain was beating against the windowpanes, but inside the apartment it was warm and comfortable. Madeline sat curled up on the end of the couch, her legs tucked underneath her and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The faint sounds of someone else's music were filtering through the too thin walls of the room, but she didn't care. In her hands she cradled a mug of freshly brewed coffee and she felt oddly at ease with the world. Outside, the world was grim and grey, but inside her apartment things were exactly as she wanted them to be. Exactly as she had arranged them.
Paul lay dozing, sprawled across the other end of the sofa, his tasselled hair begging to be touched. He looked ridiculously innocent when he was asleep, as though the weight of the world wasn't pressed down on his shoulders. If it hadn't been for the bruises so poorly concealed beneath the sweater he was wearing, she could have almost believed he hadn't nearly been killed only hours before.
She set the mug aside, acting on a foolish girlish impulse as she watched him sleep. Careful not to disturb him too much, she crawled along the couch and lay down beside him. With her head resting on his shoulder and the sound of rain at the window, she felt warm and safe in a space of her own making. Right there and right then, both Paul and she were alive and together. It wouldn't last long, couldn't last long, of course.
He stirred, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to his chest. She felt him press a sleepy kiss against the top of her head before he settled back into sleep. For now it didn't have to last long, it was simply enough.