(no subject)
i can never have
lost. jack/juliet. pg. 395 words
headaches and hands.
note: first half set in future. second part set during TTLG. something i can never have has officially become my angst j/j theme song. i know the summary sucks. sorry about that.
There’s a hand sliding up the back of his neck. Long fingers spread over his hair. Doctors will tell you, the spot right in the back of your head, after the extension, right when the skin sinks, the cerebellum. It makes sense. The hand is cold and it makes his hot head cool.
How many pills?
Two, just two.
He made sure this time, but the hand is still there, and he closes his eyes to savor in the momentarily lapse of reason. Before he snaps out of it and makes himself remember.
No.
---
“Charlie’s okay.”
Juliet passed a hand over her neck and shoulders, the tension building for days, giving her a migraine. The morning light she faced turned Jack into a shadow in front of her. She could barely see, her eyes were barely open. By the time she brought her hand up to her eyes he was standing in front of her.
“You?”
He blocked the sun, the pain in her head subsiding for a long enough forced smile. This was enough for him. She knew he wouldn’t push it.
“Me?” she asked rhetorically. “I’m good.”
“Want some aspirin?” Jack pulled his backpack in front of him, a hand on the zipper to the smaller pocket. Juliet put a hand over his in a motion to stop. “You’re stressed.” Slipping his hand out from under hers, Jack pressed it to her face. A doctors movement, his hands spreading out to cover some of her cheek, her jaw, some of her neck, a cold finger finding its way to her ear.
She closed her eyes in the rush. She forgot how badly things like headaches hurt, how the best remedies were the simple, uncomplicated ones.
Juliet smiled, this time genuinely, her eyes opening. She removed his hand with her own, holding on to it until their arms length clashed and their hands separated by force.
“You don’t have a fever,” he concluded.
“I know I don’t,” she said. Followed by, perhaps, no one gets sick around here. She thinks about this headache, how right now is the perfect time. So she doesn’t, more for her sake than his. “I’m a doctor, too.”
Jack chuckled and nodded. “I know.”
. end
lost. jack/juliet. pg. 395 words
headaches and hands.
note: first half set in future. second part set during TTLG. something i can never have has officially become my angst j/j theme song. i know the summary sucks. sorry about that.
There’s a hand sliding up the back of his neck. Long fingers spread over his hair. Doctors will tell you, the spot right in the back of your head, after the extension, right when the skin sinks, the cerebellum. It makes sense. The hand is cold and it makes his hot head cool.
How many pills?
Two, just two.
He made sure this time, but the hand is still there, and he closes his eyes to savor in the momentarily lapse of reason. Before he snaps out of it and makes himself remember.
No.
---
“Charlie’s okay.”
Juliet passed a hand over her neck and shoulders, the tension building for days, giving her a migraine. The morning light she faced turned Jack into a shadow in front of her. She could barely see, her eyes were barely open. By the time she brought her hand up to her eyes he was standing in front of her.
“You?”
He blocked the sun, the pain in her head subsiding for a long enough forced smile. This was enough for him. She knew he wouldn’t push it.
“Me?” she asked rhetorically. “I’m good.”
“Want some aspirin?” Jack pulled his backpack in front of him, a hand on the zipper to the smaller pocket. Juliet put a hand over his in a motion to stop. “You’re stressed.” Slipping his hand out from under hers, Jack pressed it to her face. A doctors movement, his hands spreading out to cover some of her cheek, her jaw, some of her neck, a cold finger finding its way to her ear.
She closed her eyes in the rush. She forgot how badly things like headaches hurt, how the best remedies were the simple, uncomplicated ones.
Juliet smiled, this time genuinely, her eyes opening. She removed his hand with her own, holding on to it until their arms length clashed and their hands separated by force.
“You don’t have a fever,” he concluded.
“I know I don’t,” she said. Followed by, perhaps, no one gets sick around here. She thinks about this headache, how right now is the perfect time. So she doesn’t, more for her sake than his. “I’m a doctor, too.”
Jack chuckled and nodded. “I know.”
. end