What's this? Shira's alive? And posting a ficlet too?
Yes, I'm alive, and not really good at posting. Or recapping all the things I should recap, nor am I good at not rambling.
So! A ficlet instead. One of many doing their best to overwhelm my brain and turn it into porridge. Expect more soon, many more.
This one is set in the middle of Hoping For Redemption, a little ficlet involving Riemman and Faye. Eventually I'll get some explanations put up explaining exactly why Faye and Riemman are in HFR, but that's later.
Without any further rambling, here's Driving:
Riemman stood in my doorway, his backpack hanging from one shoulder. “Hey Faye?”
I looked up from the newest order I was working on, taking a few seconds to blink at him, letting my eyes adjust before responding. “Yeah?”
“Any way you can drive me to the store? I’ve no more oil paints.”
“Mark not letting you go out on your own?” I asked. Usually he would bike or walk to town, but it was past dark out already.
He half shrugged and looked away a little, letting me know he hadn’t even asked him. Even though I was comfortable around Mark, Riemman still considered Mark as someone who was above him and could hurt him if he wanted to, no matter what I said to tell him different.
It was getting better, though. At least he wasn’t flinching when Mark got too close now. “Let me find my bag and shoes-” I started but Riemman smiled, bringing his hands from behind his back. He’d already grabbed them for me.
I smiled back at him, and carefully put down the handmade bag I was working on. I needed to get out of the house anyway, and this was a good reason to go. As soon as my hands were free, Riemman tossed one flat, then the other, to me and I slipped them on.
“Alright, let’s go,” I said, walking across the room. After taking my bag from him, I led the way downstairs.
“Going out,” I said, digging my keys out of the bottom of my bag.
“Grab a half gallon of milk,” Mark called after us and we were gone, making our way out of the house and to my car.
As we got in, I realized it was the first time I’d driven Riemman in it alone ever since getting it the month before; usually I had to drive Mark’s car with Mark in it, and that meant I had to abide by the rules.
“What’s that?” Riemman asked, jerking his head at the handle in the middle of the console that sat between us.
“Stick shift,” I responded. “Charlie taught me.”
Putting the key in the hole, I turned on the car and let it warm up for a few moments before slowly pulling out of the driveway. Didn’t want Mark to know how I really drove, or he’d threaten to take away my keys again.
Once out on the street, I shifted gears, and picked up speed, weaving in and out of slow cars that got in my way.
Riemman sat back in his seat. “Is this how you normally drive?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He smiled smally, and slowly closed his eyes. “I like it,” he said.
If I had a free hand, I would’ve reached over and squeezed his. But, I didn’t, and he would’ve panicked at the touch anyway. Instead of doing anything to break the silence, I just rolled down the windows and let the wind say things that we couldn’t.
So! A ficlet instead. One of many doing their best to overwhelm my brain and turn it into porridge. Expect more soon, many more.
This one is set in the middle of Hoping For Redemption, a little ficlet involving Riemman and Faye. Eventually I'll get some explanations put up explaining exactly why Faye and Riemman are in HFR, but that's later.
Without any further rambling, here's Driving:
Riemman stood in my doorway, his backpack hanging from one shoulder. “Hey Faye?”
I looked up from the newest order I was working on, taking a few seconds to blink at him, letting my eyes adjust before responding. “Yeah?”
“Any way you can drive me to the store? I’ve no more oil paints.”
“Mark not letting you go out on your own?” I asked. Usually he would bike or walk to town, but it was past dark out already.
He half shrugged and looked away a little, letting me know he hadn’t even asked him. Even though I was comfortable around Mark, Riemman still considered Mark as someone who was above him and could hurt him if he wanted to, no matter what I said to tell him different.
It was getting better, though. At least he wasn’t flinching when Mark got too close now. “Let me find my bag and shoes-” I started but Riemman smiled, bringing his hands from behind his back. He’d already grabbed them for me.
I smiled back at him, and carefully put down the handmade bag I was working on. I needed to get out of the house anyway, and this was a good reason to go. As soon as my hands were free, Riemman tossed one flat, then the other, to me and I slipped them on.
“Alright, let’s go,” I said, walking across the room. After taking my bag from him, I led the way downstairs.
“Going out,” I said, digging my keys out of the bottom of my bag.
“Grab a half gallon of milk,” Mark called after us and we were gone, making our way out of the house and to my car.
As we got in, I realized it was the first time I’d driven Riemman in it alone ever since getting it the month before; usually I had to drive Mark’s car with Mark in it, and that meant I had to abide by the rules.
“What’s that?” Riemman asked, jerking his head at the handle in the middle of the console that sat between us.
“Stick shift,” I responded. “Charlie taught me.”
Putting the key in the hole, I turned on the car and let it warm up for a few moments before slowly pulling out of the driveway. Didn’t want Mark to know how I really drove, or he’d threaten to take away my keys again.
Once out on the street, I shifted gears, and picked up speed, weaving in and out of slow cars that got in my way.
Riemman sat back in his seat. “Is this how you normally drive?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He smiled smally, and slowly closed his eyes. “I like it,” he said.
If I had a free hand, I would’ve reached over and squeezed his. But, I didn’t, and he would’ve panicked at the touch anyway. Instead of doing anything to break the silence, I just rolled down the windows and let the wind say things that we couldn’t.