COMMENT FIC POST
I can't write. Prompt me.
Guidelines:
Fandoms: Lost, Grey's Anatomy. BSG, Gossip Girl, Oz, anything else that you know I watch. Any pairings go.
Prompt me with a fandom, character/pairing, and either a prompt word, song lyric, or picture.
I'm trying to get back in the habit of doing more than one fandom, so, really, you're helping me here.
Guidelines:
Fandoms: Lost, Grey's Anatomy. BSG, Gossip Girl, Oz, anything else that you know I watch. Any pairings go.
Prompt me with a fandom, character/pairing, and either a prompt word, song lyric, or picture.
I'm trying to get back in the habit of doing more than one fandom, so, really, you're helping me here.
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Claire buys a Christmas tree for their shitty little apartment. One of those short ones that stand about two feet tall if you’re lucky, the kind that are meant as centerpieces or decorations to be placed in windows.
She goes nuts decorating it too, colored lights that leave shadows on the wall when she forgets to turn it off (which is almost every night; he’ll find her asleep on the couch because, you know, they still just drift off wherever they are, they haven’t relearned the idea of bed as the place where you’re supposed to go to sleep), and small glass ornaments she gets in tiny clear plastic boxes from the Target down the road. She looks so damned pleased the day she finishes her little tree that could that he bites back the ‘happy now Charlie Brown?’ that tries to pass through his lips (too early for that, for so many reasons). He sticks another cigarette between them instead and walks out onto the four foot long piece of deck that juts off of their apartment.
Sawyer never liked the holidays. Too many ghosts to rear their heads.
When he comes back in she’s curled up against the side of the couch, head resting on the armrest, eyes fixed somewhere between the door and the circular magenta, teal, and yellow shadows, as if in a trance that she has the power to turn on and off. “Thank you for not saying anything,” her voice is quiet and sober, muffled against her hands, but it’s the only sound in the room.
He’s not used to being thanked. All that comes out as a response is a mumbled, “You’re welcome.”
It’s the first night in a long while that she doesn’t fall asleep on the couch.
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I love the idea of them still not being used to sleeping in a regular bed and Sawyer keeping his mouth shut! Aww!
Thank you so much m'dear
♥
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I'm really glad you liked it!
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I remember reading a bunch of your fics of them a while ago, so glad they're still in your inspiration.
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