Get me writing again!
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request that I write a drabble of any pairing/character of their choosing. In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level. (Some other equivalent gift, like icons or mini-fanmixes or quickie meta, would make sense for people who don't write fic themselves
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He showed up six weeks ago, duffle slung over his shoulder, his little mutt, Skeeter, nipping at his heels. "Your mom says Erin's really sick," he says, and his eyes add, "And you look like shit, too."
There's coffee and toast every morning and a plate of dinner waiting for him every night when he comes home after visiting hours. It's man food: Kraft Mac&Cheese, tater-tots, chili, hamburgers, meatloaf, green beans, oven fried chicken.
Noah's little pants and shorts and shirts and socks are not neatly folded and put away, but they're stacked in clean piles, and Jason kind of likes folding them -- it's the sort of mindless chore that's comforting at a time like this.
He finds Tim, Noah and Skeeter sacked out together on Tim's bed, Green Eggs and Ham splayed across Tim's chest, Skeeter snuggled up to Noah. Looks like it ( ... )
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