don't go traveling tonight
I have been seized by a burning desire to fix the end of this episode...this is not a fix, but it's something.
290 words, 5.22 tag, gen.
The pie is good. He thinks he can taste it, sweet and buttery with a hint of cinnamon, but it’s not until he looks at his plate that he realizes it’s apple.
He’s fine, just like Sam said.
He’s going to go to barbecues.
Lisa keeps glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he finishes his slice, turning hurriedly away when he catches her at it. Ben doesn’t bother with the subterfuge, just stares at him across the wide table, unblinking.
“I’m fine,” he says, trying to smile. “Lisa, I’ll be all right, it’s okay.”
“Okay,” she says. She still skirts the table a little faster than necessary, but she stops with the twitchy glances. That’s good.
That’s good.
The sooner she stops worrying about him, the sooner he can relax and go to barbecues and live that apple-pie life, just like Sam said.
“What happened to your brother?” Ben asks suddenly. “Weren’t you with your brother, last time?”
“Ah-yeah,” he admits, keeps it as easy, as natural-sounding as he can. He does his best not to think, for Sam, and his mind is as blank as a cloudless sky. “Yeah, Sam and I parted ways a while back.”
He wants Ben to shut his mouth and stop asking questions, wishes he could get the both of them to believe that it’s all okay, that he’s not upset or in danger or anything.
He just wants to do what Sam said.
You don’t know what’s out there, and oh, if you go-they’ll get you.
Wide jaws and reaching limbs, sliding up behind your back as you fumble with the doorknob, and snap!
No more you, sugar.
He just wants to do what Sam said.
290 words, 5.22 tag, gen.
The pie is good. He thinks he can taste it, sweet and buttery with a hint of cinnamon, but it’s not until he looks at his plate that he realizes it’s apple.
He’s fine, just like Sam said.
He’s going to go to barbecues.
Lisa keeps glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he finishes his slice, turning hurriedly away when he catches her at it. Ben doesn’t bother with the subterfuge, just stares at him across the wide table, unblinking.
“I’m fine,” he says, trying to smile. “Lisa, I’ll be all right, it’s okay.”
“Okay,” she says. She still skirts the table a little faster than necessary, but she stops with the twitchy glances. That’s good.
That’s good.
The sooner she stops worrying about him, the sooner he can relax and go to barbecues and live that apple-pie life, just like Sam said.
“What happened to your brother?” Ben asks suddenly. “Weren’t you with your brother, last time?”
“Ah-yeah,” he admits, keeps it as easy, as natural-sounding as he can. He does his best not to think, for Sam, and his mind is as blank as a cloudless sky. “Yeah, Sam and I parted ways a while back.”
He wants Ben to shut his mouth and stop asking questions, wishes he could get the both of them to believe that it’s all okay, that he’s not upset or in danger or anything.
He just wants to do what Sam said.
You don’t know what’s out there, and oh, if you go-they’ll get you.
Wide jaws and reaching limbs, sliding up behind your back as you fumble with the doorknob, and snap!
No more you, sugar.
He just wants to do what Sam said.