Christmas Ficlet: Soaked
Fourth in a series of five ficlets. I meant to post this ages ago. Oops. (Also trying that x-posting thing. Fingers crossed?)
Title: Soaked
Fandom: SGU
Pairing: Scott/Chloe
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: crying
Notes: Still not the sequel to 28800. ._.
Summary: Scott and Chloe need a moment to let things sink in.
“Our kids will be so messed up,” Chloe says out of the blue, while they’re trying to sort out how Matt’s alien thing will react to things like disinfectants.
They stare at each other, contemplating kids, and their adventures in genetic manipulation, and suddenly both of them are laughing, slumped against eachother on the floor. It’s the kind of laughter where you can’t really breathe - you know you’re choking, you’re gasping desperately for air, but you can’t stop yourself, can’t catch your breath. Chloe is actually crying, she’s laughing so hard. The side of her face hits his cheek and his skin draws in the moisture, and somehow even that is funny.
They laugh and they laugh for who knows how long. And Matt can’t breathe. He cant breathe. He can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t
Chloe’s sobbing, suddenly, weeping desperately into his shoulder. She’s holding him so tight that her nails press deep marks into his skin, and that small pain is just enough to keep him in the present, keep him awake and aware and with her. He forces himself to take a deep breath, and another, until he feels less likely to pass out.
Chloe calms, shoulders still, head pressed to his neck. He can feel wetness there, but it’s fading, soaking into his skin.
They hold each other for a long while, not saying anything. He tries to soak in the smell of her, the warmth, the way she feels pressed against him like this; he tries to soak her in the way his skin soaks up water. He’d missed this during his year away from her. He’d missed her.
Title: Soaked
Fandom: SGU
Pairing: Scott/Chloe
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: crying
Notes: Still not the sequel to 28800. ._.
Summary: Scott and Chloe need a moment to let things sink in.
“Our kids will be so messed up,” Chloe says out of the blue, while they’re trying to sort out how Matt’s alien thing will react to things like disinfectants.
They stare at each other, contemplating kids, and their adventures in genetic manipulation, and suddenly both of them are laughing, slumped against eachother on the floor. It’s the kind of laughter where you can’t really breathe - you know you’re choking, you’re gasping desperately for air, but you can’t stop yourself, can’t catch your breath. Chloe is actually crying, she’s laughing so hard. The side of her face hits his cheek and his skin draws in the moisture, and somehow even that is funny.
They laugh and they laugh for who knows how long. And Matt can’t breathe. He cant breathe. He can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t
Chloe’s sobbing, suddenly, weeping desperately into his shoulder. She’s holding him so tight that her nails press deep marks into his skin, and that small pain is just enough to keep him in the present, keep him awake and aware and with her. He forces himself to take a deep breath, and another, until he feels less likely to pass out.
Chloe calms, shoulders still, head pressed to his neck. He can feel wetness there, but it’s fading, soaking into his skin.
They hold each other for a long while, not saying anything. He tries to soak in the smell of her, the warmth, the way she feels pressed against him like this; he tries to soak her in the way his skin soaks up water. He’d missed this during his year away from her. He’d missed her.