fic: the cold in your bones
words: 625
pairings: gwen/morgana, morgana/other
warnings: adultery
fill for this prompt on the gwen/morgana au comment ficathon
They meet in a bar after midnight, and in the dim light Morgana’s smile isn’t coy, it’s shy, a lost child. Gwen invites her back to her place, and she’s slurring, and she speaks a little too quickly, the alcohol flush on her cheeks, but Morgana doesn’t seem to mind, Morgana just takes Gwen’s hand in hers and says ‘lead on’.
-
The autumn chill makes frost spiderweb across the windows in the morning, and Morgana doesn’t make coffee right, too bitter, too thick, but Gwen doesn’t mind, Gwen drinks it right up.
-
Morgana fucks hard and fast like she’s afraid they’ll get caught. Gwen tries, and Gwen is slow and patient, but Morgana is quicksilver, is mercury, slips through her fingers. But it’s not just a chase, it’s around and around and around, and when Gwen stops calling, Morgana starts.
“I missed you.” She says, and when Gwen stumbles back, her heart in her hands, Morgana laughs.
“I lied.” She says. “I wanted to fuck.”
Gwen nearly leaves that time, for good, but Morgana grabs her arm, and her touch is gentle, and Gwen could shake her off if she wanted to. She doesn’t.
-
They walk in Central Park, gloved hand in gloved hand, and snowflakes catch in Morgana’s eyelashes, and Gwen watches and wonders how anything could be so beautiful, how something so pristine and exquisite could exist without breaking some sort of natural law. Morgana kisses her hard on the mouth, and her lips are chapped and she tastes like the cold.
-
Against the lights of New York Morgana looks like a statue, like part of the city. When they go out all eyes are on her and she keeps them that way, and Gwen feels giddy, like a child on a carnival ride, flashing lights, cotton candy, spinning faces. She doesn’t tell anyone about the nights Morgana spends alone in the bathroom, how Gwen can’t get her to come out of the shower some mornings, how Morgana hates clocks. She has Morgana’s foundation, Gwen tells herself and everything else is just air. She has the parts that matter.
-
Except when she doesn’t, and Morgana won’t stop crying, and Gwen can’t do or say anything to make it better. She brings tea and soup and blankets and sings the songs her mother used to sing to her. She lays herself bare, flays herself for Morgana’s gaze and hopes something with wake her up, but in the end nothing does, and she’s naked and shivering and still alone, and Morgana is still crying.
“I love you.” Gwen says, she incants, over and over and over like a prayer.
“I love you too.” Morgana says, and Gwen thinks she might just be telling the truth this time.
-
The first time Gwen finds Morgana with someone else she wants to be surprised but she isn’t, really. She closes the door and she waits for anger but it doesn’t come, and in the end Gwen goes back to her car and drives home. When Morgana calls the next day Gwen says sure, come over at 4, and Morgana does. Gwen doesn’t say a word, and she thinks so this is what I’m like and feels a funny kind of sadness.
-
It takes 2 months for Morgana to leave. Gwen watches Morgana cry more, and talk less, and there are bruises when they fuck. She drinks Morgana’s coffee, and wears Morgana’s sweaters, and waits for her to call later and later every night, until one night she doesn’t.
Gwen wonders if this was always how it was going to end.
“She was no good.” Her friends say. “You’re better off.”
“Yeah.” Gwen says, and when, three years later, she passes Morgana in the supermarket, she does not look.
pairings: gwen/morgana, morgana/other
warnings: adultery
fill for this prompt on the gwen/morgana au comment ficathon
They meet in a bar after midnight, and in the dim light Morgana’s smile isn’t coy, it’s shy, a lost child. Gwen invites her back to her place, and she’s slurring, and she speaks a little too quickly, the alcohol flush on her cheeks, but Morgana doesn’t seem to mind, Morgana just takes Gwen’s hand in hers and says ‘lead on’.
-
The autumn chill makes frost spiderweb across the windows in the morning, and Morgana doesn’t make coffee right, too bitter, too thick, but Gwen doesn’t mind, Gwen drinks it right up.
-
Morgana fucks hard and fast like she’s afraid they’ll get caught. Gwen tries, and Gwen is slow and patient, but Morgana is quicksilver, is mercury, slips through her fingers. But it’s not just a chase, it’s around and around and around, and when Gwen stops calling, Morgana starts.
“I missed you.” She says, and when Gwen stumbles back, her heart in her hands, Morgana laughs.
“I lied.” She says. “I wanted to fuck.”
Gwen nearly leaves that time, for good, but Morgana grabs her arm, and her touch is gentle, and Gwen could shake her off if she wanted to. She doesn’t.
-
They walk in Central Park, gloved hand in gloved hand, and snowflakes catch in Morgana’s eyelashes, and Gwen watches and wonders how anything could be so beautiful, how something so pristine and exquisite could exist without breaking some sort of natural law. Morgana kisses her hard on the mouth, and her lips are chapped and she tastes like the cold.
-
Against the lights of New York Morgana looks like a statue, like part of the city. When they go out all eyes are on her and she keeps them that way, and Gwen feels giddy, like a child on a carnival ride, flashing lights, cotton candy, spinning faces. She doesn’t tell anyone about the nights Morgana spends alone in the bathroom, how Gwen can’t get her to come out of the shower some mornings, how Morgana hates clocks. She has Morgana’s foundation, Gwen tells herself and everything else is just air. She has the parts that matter.
-
Except when she doesn’t, and Morgana won’t stop crying, and Gwen can’t do or say anything to make it better. She brings tea and soup and blankets and sings the songs her mother used to sing to her. She lays herself bare, flays herself for Morgana’s gaze and hopes something with wake her up, but in the end nothing does, and she’s naked and shivering and still alone, and Morgana is still crying.
“I love you.” Gwen says, she incants, over and over and over like a prayer.
“I love you too.” Morgana says, and Gwen thinks she might just be telling the truth this time.
-
The first time Gwen finds Morgana with someone else she wants to be surprised but she isn’t, really. She closes the door and she waits for anger but it doesn’t come, and in the end Gwen goes back to her car and drives home. When Morgana calls the next day Gwen says sure, come over at 4, and Morgana does. Gwen doesn’t say a word, and she thinks so this is what I’m like and feels a funny kind of sadness.
-
It takes 2 months for Morgana to leave. Gwen watches Morgana cry more, and talk less, and there are bruises when they fuck. She drinks Morgana’s coffee, and wears Morgana’s sweaters, and waits for her to call later and later every night, until one night she doesn’t.
Gwen wonders if this was always how it was going to end.
“She was no good.” Her friends say. “You’re better off.”
“Yeah.” Gwen says, and when, three years later, she passes Morgana in the supermarket, she does not look.