Passionfruit 1
Author: sunsetsinthewes
Challenge: Passionfruit 1. One paints the beginning of a certain end. - Maya Angelou
Word Count: 410
Rating: G
Story: _____; the title of this story is Heading East.
Summary: When he calls, she knows just how to answer.
Notes: So, it seems that I have a new canon. Seriously. I've been working on this canon off and on since 2005< so I'm rather excited to actually do something with this. So far, there's very little that you need to know. Hopefully, it'll all unravel soon.
***
The first night he calls, it's cold outside. She waits, huddled under the flickering porch light, hands tucked into her armpits, until headlights appear and the car slows to a stop.
She slides into the seat with one word. "Drive."
He glances at her and pretends not to wince at the slam of the door. "Where to?"
"East. Drive east."
He does.
Twenty minutes later, his cell phone rings. She grabs for it, shutting it off, and he anxiously watches.
"What if it's important?"
"Tonight," she says, slipping the phone into her back pocket, “We don't exist."
They stop for gas after that, and she buys a pack of cigarettes. Together they chain-smoke until the anxious look is gone from his eyes.
He turns when she tells him to, paying no real attention to where they're going. She digs around in a bag for a moment, finding a cassette and popping it into the deck. They spend the next hour singing folk songs -- he's off-key and she's always quieter than the music, but it doesn't matter.
She waits until they're in Indiana to tell him to stop. A dingy motel stands before them, electronic sign buzzing loud enough to startle him. She hops out of the car and confidently heads to the front desk. He's not sure where she got the wad of bills from and he really doesn't care. Not at the moment.
They spend the rest of the night watching static and commenting on the decorative flag that only has twelve stripes. He says the motel probably got it at a discount and she says it's tacky to hang it in the bathroom.
They sleep pressed together, her arms wrapped around him while she ignores his uneven breathing. When they wake, they argue over who gets the first turn in the shower and she surprises him with a shirt pulled from her bag.
"My brother's," she explains, and he just nods.
They eat a breakfast of burnt toast and runny eggs. She complains about the sausage until he eats it just to shut her up.
The drive home is mostly quiet -- there's nothing to say, not really.
When he drops her off, she smiles at his attempts to thank her. "Next time, you're paying."
He pulls over once he's out of sight. It'll take a few minutes to stop shaking, but he doesn't mind. Afterwards, he thinks he may put her number into the speed dial.
***
Challenge: Passionfruit 1. One paints the beginning of a certain end. - Maya Angelou
Word Count: 410
Rating: G
Story: _____; the title of this story is Heading East.
Summary: When he calls, she knows just how to answer.
Notes: So, it seems that I have a new canon. Seriously. I've been working on this canon off and on since 2005< so I'm rather excited to actually do something with this. So far, there's very little that you need to know. Hopefully, it'll all unravel soon.
***
The first night he calls, it's cold outside. She waits, huddled under the flickering porch light, hands tucked into her armpits, until headlights appear and the car slows to a stop.
She slides into the seat with one word. "Drive."
He glances at her and pretends not to wince at the slam of the door. "Where to?"
"East. Drive east."
He does.
Twenty minutes later, his cell phone rings. She grabs for it, shutting it off, and he anxiously watches.
"What if it's important?"
"Tonight," she says, slipping the phone into her back pocket, “We don't exist."
They stop for gas after that, and she buys a pack of cigarettes. Together they chain-smoke until the anxious look is gone from his eyes.
He turns when she tells him to, paying no real attention to where they're going. She digs around in a bag for a moment, finding a cassette and popping it into the deck. They spend the next hour singing folk songs -- he's off-key and she's always quieter than the music, but it doesn't matter.
She waits until they're in Indiana to tell him to stop. A dingy motel stands before them, electronic sign buzzing loud enough to startle him. She hops out of the car and confidently heads to the front desk. He's not sure where she got the wad of bills from and he really doesn't care. Not at the moment.
They spend the rest of the night watching static and commenting on the decorative flag that only has twelve stripes. He says the motel probably got it at a discount and she says it's tacky to hang it in the bathroom.
They sleep pressed together, her arms wrapped around him while she ignores his uneven breathing. When they wake, they argue over who gets the first turn in the shower and she surprises him with a shirt pulled from her bag.
"My brother's," she explains, and he just nods.
They eat a breakfast of burnt toast and runny eggs. She complains about the sausage until he eats it just to shut her up.
The drive home is mostly quiet -- there's nothing to say, not really.
When he drops her off, she smiles at his attempts to thank her. "Next time, you're paying."
He pulls over once he's out of sight. It'll take a few minutes to stop shaking, but he doesn't mind. Afterwards, he thinks he may put her number into the speed dial.
***