Almost a double-drabble, but not quite: Temporary Glow
Author Diamond Took
Title Temporary Glow
Rating PG
Words 222
Setting s6: Flooded
Prompt fill Fag End.
A/N I haven't written anything in about a month. New community triumphs over writer's block! Also, unbetaed.
She can count their history in dying cigarrettes.
One behind the Bronze, that first night. Hanging from his fingers for a moment before it dropped to the ground, leaving room for the claps that echoed through the dark alley.
Two the night she found him with her mom (and Angel), hot chocolate cups leaving dark rings in the pristine sink. Maybe she should count the rings instead.
Nine that time she caught him by her tree. That first time she wondered how long it took to smoke so many. How long he'd been standing there. Why he was watching her. Now she knows better than to ask.
Three on her last birthday, one twice as long as usual, bark clinging to the side where he snuffed it out in a hurry. She supposes he was interrupted by Dawn's little escape act. No time to finish.
None when she kissed him, for the real first time. His bruised lips probably couldn't grip the rim of a glass, much less a smoke. She left him one anyway, just within reach.
And tonight, as she crushes the glowing tip beneath her stylish but affordable heel, she takes comfort in knowing that he's not far behind.
She can count their history in dying cigarrettes, and who knows, maybe soon she'll want one for herself.
Title Temporary Glow
Rating PG
Words 222
Setting s6: Flooded
Prompt fill Fag End.
A/N I haven't written anything in about a month. New community triumphs over writer's block! Also, unbetaed.
She can count their history in dying cigarrettes.
One behind the Bronze, that first night. Hanging from his fingers for a moment before it dropped to the ground, leaving room for the claps that echoed through the dark alley.
Two the night she found him with her mom (and Angel), hot chocolate cups leaving dark rings in the pristine sink. Maybe she should count the rings instead.
Nine that time she caught him by her tree. That first time she wondered how long it took to smoke so many. How long he'd been standing there. Why he was watching her. Now she knows better than to ask.
Three on her last birthday, one twice as long as usual, bark clinging to the side where he snuffed it out in a hurry. She supposes he was interrupted by Dawn's little escape act. No time to finish.
None when she kissed him, for the real first time. His bruised lips probably couldn't grip the rim of a glass, much less a smoke. She left him one anyway, just within reach.
And tonight, as she crushes the glowing tip beneath her stylish but affordable heel, she takes comfort in knowing that he's not far behind.
She can count their history in dying cigarrettes, and who knows, maybe soon she'll want one for herself.