name that ship!
Name that ship!
I spent some time digging through my files this past weekend since I couldn't get online as I'd planned, and I came across this little piece which I wrote several years ago. It's fan fiction; it was written for a particular ship. But on re-read, it occurred to me that, with one very minor change, it could apply to another one that I really enjoy. Those probably aren't the only two.
So I made the change, and I'm posting it here. What do you think? Which ship(s) does this describe? This is not a test; this is me being curious about what other people might see here. I'm only avoiding identifying my ships because I don't want to cause any accidental preconceptions.
Sometimes
He shares my bed with me almost every night.
By day, I go through the routine that we've established and become used to over the past few years. We exchange smiles and pleasantries and work through whatever problems may appear. Sometimes, during a lull in activity, I find myself thinking about him, and I have to stand up and walk away because he's right there. And sometimes, when I look over, I see the expression on his face and know that he's thinking about me too.
But at night, when no one else can see, when no one else knows, he's there with me. Sometimes we just lie there and he strokes my hair and we talk of a million unimportant things that somehow become the very essence of our relationship. Sometimes we simply touch and feel and experience every sensation like it's new. And sometimes we take it further, much further, into areas I can barely discuss in my own personal writings without embarrassment.
I think about it more than I should during the day. Sometimes I eagerly seek my bed at night, knowing he'll be there, desperately wanting and even needing the sharing. I know it's dangerous. But I admit to myself that I'm not strong enough to survive without it.
And sometimes I wonder if he knows that he's ever been there with me. Sometimes, when I see him watching me during the day, I think that he must, that he can't help but see it in my eyes even though I’m careful with my expression. And sometimes, when we hurt each other in the ways only we're capable of doing, I'm sure he has no idea.
Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to tell him, to speak of it, and make it a reality.
In other news, I am still netless and depending on wi-fi spots; as I post this I'm at a Panera Bread. This will probably last until next week.
I spent some time digging through my files this past weekend since I couldn't get online as I'd planned, and I came across this little piece which I wrote several years ago. It's fan fiction; it was written for a particular ship. But on re-read, it occurred to me that, with one very minor change, it could apply to another one that I really enjoy. Those probably aren't the only two.
So I made the change, and I'm posting it here. What do you think? Which ship(s) does this describe? This is not a test; this is me being curious about what other people might see here. I'm only avoiding identifying my ships because I don't want to cause any accidental preconceptions.
Sometimes
He shares my bed with me almost every night.
By day, I go through the routine that we've established and become used to over the past few years. We exchange smiles and pleasantries and work through whatever problems may appear. Sometimes, during a lull in activity, I find myself thinking about him, and I have to stand up and walk away because he's right there. And sometimes, when I look over, I see the expression on his face and know that he's thinking about me too.
But at night, when no one else can see, when no one else knows, he's there with me. Sometimes we just lie there and he strokes my hair and we talk of a million unimportant things that somehow become the very essence of our relationship. Sometimes we simply touch and feel and experience every sensation like it's new. And sometimes we take it further, much further, into areas I can barely discuss in my own personal writings without embarrassment.
I think about it more than I should during the day. Sometimes I eagerly seek my bed at night, knowing he'll be there, desperately wanting and even needing the sharing. I know it's dangerous. But I admit to myself that I'm not strong enough to survive without it.
And sometimes I wonder if he knows that he's ever been there with me. Sometimes, when I see him watching me during the day, I think that he must, that he can't help but see it in my eyes even though I’m careful with my expression. And sometimes, when we hurt each other in the ways only we're capable of doing, I'm sure he has no idea.
Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to tell him, to speak of it, and make it a reality.
In other news, I am still netless and depending on wi-fi spots; as I post this I'm at a Panera Bread. This will probably last until next week.