Fic: Walking with the air beneath my feet
So, I have broken my hand... again... Great! and just in time for all my exams in the next few weeks! Even better!
I forgot how hard it is to type one handedly :S
But anyway yesterday I wrote this whilst waiting for the X-ray and results...
Title: Walking with the Air beneath my feet
Pairing: John Terry/ Frank Lampard
Word count: 374
Disclaimer: All lieeeeeeeeeeeeees
The Earth, solid ground, terra firma. A sensation I'm used to, more so than most. Everyday I feel it as my feet beat a rhythm against it, in time with the man who is always at my side.
It's hard and jagged as I pick my daughter up off it, after a little fall, a thin trickle of blood dribbling down her knee as she wails like her legs been cut off. But it’s all OK, the wailing stops as suddenly as it began, because there he is, a Mickey Mouse plaster in one hand, a lollipop in the other, and a caring smile on his face, before he scoops her up and holds her close, soothing her pain, her knight in shining armour, my knight in shining armour.
It is cool and damp against my skin, as I clatter face first towards it, after yet another headstrong tackle from the opposition, determined to stop me in my tracks. Before I turn I can feel that he's there, a sixth sense that tells me when he’s near, developed after years at each other’s side, the reassurance, strength and relief that one can draw from someone so close to you, being so near. I don’t need to turn to see his outstretched arm, I don’t need to open my eyes to see he grin on his face, and I don’t need to look at him, to see the glint in his eye.
But when I do, I see everything, I see everything that he means to me, reflected straight back at me, all the memories, emotions, love and when his hand clasps around mine, he pulls me back to my feet, but he doesn’t stop there. He lifts me up higher, above the ground and I feel like I’m walking on nothing but air. You could insert any number of cheesy songs here, ‘walking on sunshine’, ‘you raise me up’ I cringe at the thought, but that sensation is back. The one that comes from being near him, from sharing something with him, the one that enters me when he enters the room and keeps me warm as I lie with him at night, and once again, I’m walking with the air beneath my feet.