FF: Destination
Title: Destination
Category: Post-ep for Transition
Rating: PG
Notes: I actually can't believe I finished this one. I was ready to scrap it more times than I could count. In the end, the solution was to change the format from the Frankenstein experiment in POV I was attempting to something more far more familiar. Like this fic, I have written five 100 word drabbles that technically can be read separately, but make more sense when read together. I'm posting it today in honor of gatsbyfan's birthday! Feliz cumpleaños, Gatz!!! (The Spanish will make sense after you read the fic.)
On The Plane
He fell asleep on her before the plane had even taken off, but she didn't mind. It gave her time to read her guidebook. He wanted to take her to Hawaii. It seemed appropriate. But nostalgia wasn't worth losing an entire day to travel when they had precious little time as it was. Besides it's not like spending a week in Puerto Rico was a hardship. The island had a lot going for it, including a four-hour direct flight from Dulles. There's was no law that said you couldn't be practical and romantic at the same time. He had checked.
Crashing
The hotel was lovely. The weather was perfect. They had so much they planned to do starting from the moment they landed, but, in the end, they did none of it. They slept. They did some not-sleeping too. But mostly, they were unconscious for the first forty-eight hours. And by mid-week, most of their ambitious itinerary was abandoned for a more leisurely pace.
He blamed it on jetlag until she reminded him that they were still in the same time zone, not that they had gotten use to being in just one yet. They started calling it "campaign-lag" after that.
At The Beach
They do go to the beach, but only once to say that they did. They both agreed that they aren’t really beach people. She spends most of her time under a large umbrella, slathered in the strongest sun block she could find, while he complains about sand getting into places where sand should never, ever be. They head back after only a few hours to shower and take a nap. That evening, she wore a long sundress, he was in a linen suit and they ate dinner at a nice restaurant overlooking the ocean. That was much more their style.
The Talk
“We wasted so much time,” she sighed. He started to say something, but trailed off. When she turned around, he had that look on his face. The genius look. The one that he'd get after she'd made some stray remark... followed by a demand for a copy of the Antiquities Act and ten minutes with the President.
“I don’t think we have,” he finally said. "If you and I never met in New Hampshire, we would have gotten here anyway. But, instead, I got to share the past decade with you, and I can't think of anything better than that."
Home Again
He thinks that the best part of the entire trip was when they returned to his apartment and collapsed, almost in synchronization, on the facing couches. She had buried her face in one of the pillows and mumbled something about how wonderful it was to be home before passing out completely.
And that was that. From that moment onwards, his apartment was now theirs. A vacation, no matter how nice, can't compare to the joy in the everyday.
But he does decide that he has to revise his opinion of destination weddings. It'd be a nice reason to go back.
.
Category: Post-ep for Transition
Rating: PG
Notes: I actually can't believe I finished this one. I was ready to scrap it more times than I could count. In the end, the solution was to change the format from the Frankenstein experiment in POV I was attempting to something more far more familiar. Like this fic, I have written five 100 word drabbles that technically can be read separately, but make more sense when read together. I'm posting it today in honor of gatsbyfan's birthday! Feliz cumpleaños, Gatz!!! (The Spanish will make sense after you read the fic.)
On The Plane
He fell asleep on her before the plane had even taken off, but she didn't mind. It gave her time to read her guidebook. He wanted to take her to Hawaii. It seemed appropriate. But nostalgia wasn't worth losing an entire day to travel when they had precious little time as it was. Besides it's not like spending a week in Puerto Rico was a hardship. The island had a lot going for it, including a four-hour direct flight from Dulles. There's was no law that said you couldn't be practical and romantic at the same time. He had checked.
Crashing
The hotel was lovely. The weather was perfect. They had so much they planned to do starting from the moment they landed, but, in the end, they did none of it. They slept. They did some not-sleeping too. But mostly, they were unconscious for the first forty-eight hours. And by mid-week, most of their ambitious itinerary was abandoned for a more leisurely pace.
He blamed it on jetlag until she reminded him that they were still in the same time zone, not that they had gotten use to being in just one yet. They started calling it "campaign-lag" after that.
At The Beach
They do go to the beach, but only once to say that they did. They both agreed that they aren’t really beach people. She spends most of her time under a large umbrella, slathered in the strongest sun block she could find, while he complains about sand getting into places where sand should never, ever be. They head back after only a few hours to shower and take a nap. That evening, she wore a long sundress, he was in a linen suit and they ate dinner at a nice restaurant overlooking the ocean. That was much more their style.
The Talk
“We wasted so much time,” she sighed. He started to say something, but trailed off. When she turned around, he had that look on his face. The genius look. The one that he'd get after she'd made some stray remark... followed by a demand for a copy of the Antiquities Act and ten minutes with the President.
“I don’t think we have,” he finally said. "If you and I never met in New Hampshire, we would have gotten here anyway. But, instead, I got to share the past decade with you, and I can't think of anything better than that."
Home Again
He thinks that the best part of the entire trip was when they returned to his apartment and collapsed, almost in synchronization, on the facing couches. She had buried her face in one of the pillows and mumbled something about how wonderful it was to be home before passing out completely.
And that was that. From that moment onwards, his apartment was now theirs. A vacation, no matter how nice, can't compare to the joy in the everyday.
But he does decide that he has to revise his opinion of destination weddings. It'd be a nice reason to go back.
.