stagesoflove round two
title: Steady
with: (pre) Flack/Stella
rated: PG
herein: five stages of physical intimacy - hugging
disclaim: me no own
note: ep-related to “All Access”
Don figures it’s been thirty-six hours since he last slept. The joints in his legs ache, and he’s a little clumsy when he helps Stella into her sweatshirt. He tells her that IAB’s calling it a good shoot-as if there was ever any doubt-and he keeps steady even through the smile and the thanks. The relief.
“You’re a very good friend.” Her eyes are still a little big, a little spooked.
He keeps steady, and it is a relief because it seems her mind has caught up, has quit processing the world in fragments.
He kisses her cheek and pulls her close. She kisses his cheek. She smells of sweat and antiseptic. Astringent. Stress and the hospital and whatever ointment they put on the small cuts before the butterfly bandages.
“Thanks.”
“You got it.” The words almost break, but they don’t. Stella’s warm against him. She relaxes and wraps her arms tighter around his back for the space of five heartbeats.
Mac opens the door, and there’s something hollow and tired in his eyes that Don doesn’t want to look at too closely. So he doesn’t.
They part ways at the elevator. Don’s not entirely sure what excuse came out of his mouth, but Stella and Mac need to talk alone. They probably didn’t hear what he said anyway.
He wanders through the hospital until he finds a different exit. It’s night again. Outside the streets are shiny wet and reflect headlights, streetlights, stoplights. He doesn’t remember it raining today. He remembers the way her hands shook.
He lights a cigarette, ignores the growl in his stomach, and tries not to be so damn grateful that she killed that son of a bitch.
………
thanks for reading; feedback always appreciated
with: (pre) Flack/Stella
rated: PG
herein: five stages of physical intimacy - hugging
disclaim: me no own
note: ep-related to “All Access”
Don figures it’s been thirty-six hours since he last slept. The joints in his legs ache, and he’s a little clumsy when he helps Stella into her sweatshirt. He tells her that IAB’s calling it a good shoot-as if there was ever any doubt-and he keeps steady even through the smile and the thanks. The relief.
“You’re a very good friend.” Her eyes are still a little big, a little spooked.
He keeps steady, and it is a relief because it seems her mind has caught up, has quit processing the world in fragments.
He kisses her cheek and pulls her close. She kisses his cheek. She smells of sweat and antiseptic. Astringent. Stress and the hospital and whatever ointment they put on the small cuts before the butterfly bandages.
“Thanks.”
“You got it.” The words almost break, but they don’t. Stella’s warm against him. She relaxes and wraps her arms tighter around his back for the space of five heartbeats.
Mac opens the door, and there’s something hollow and tired in his eyes that Don doesn’t want to look at too closely. So he doesn’t.
They part ways at the elevator. Don’s not entirely sure what excuse came out of his mouth, but Stella and Mac need to talk alone. They probably didn’t hear what he said anyway.
He wanders through the hospital until he finds a different exit. It’s night again. Outside the streets are shiny wet and reflect headlights, streetlights, stoplights. He doesn’t remember it raining today. He remembers the way her hands shook.
He lights a cigarette, ignores the growl in his stomach, and tries not to be so damn grateful that she killed that son of a bitch.
………
thanks for reading; feedback always appreciated