I am currently working hard on some post-COE fics that no one is going to read, and it's depressing, and I have a million and one real life things to do and my apartment is a mess and I am still trying to figure out how exactly to get to and from Boston in a week-and-a-half
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Ianto wrapped his hands around his cappuccino - ordered more for warmth than flavor, as he wasn't planning on drinking it - and let the wave of chatter and clink of cutlery wash over him. Jack turned to look over the bay, and they watched the sun set together.
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This was the hardest to write, seriously. And then I had to force myself to not attack it with editing, which would have defeated the purpose of the whole exercise.
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