It has been over two years since my last had one-sentence fic day! How can this be? It feel like just yesterday that insanity was happening
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Dude, I don't know what it is about easel, but I was so stumped on this. I can't believe I had to break out a semi-colon this early in the game (so basically: fail! LOL.)
A pin pierced the flesh of Watson's thumb as Holmes marked another spot on the map in his hands; Holmes ignored his flinch and stepped back, examining his handiwork with head tilted, and Watson, sick of standing there, growled, "I don't suppose you'd consider purchasing an easel for these purposes?" which Holmes also ignored.
The day after Luke's insides finally get untangled and put back together right, he wakes up to Tinker in his hospital room with his shirt off, and okay, that's weird, like too many painkillers, dreaming about a two-headed goat weird, but when Tink shows Luke the old scar across his chest, Luke thinks he kind of gets it, and he appreciates the gesture, and the company.
Sam glances at the clock, convinced it's happening earlier every day: that moment where Dean crumples his coffee cup and reaches for his hip flask, his hands given a new excuse to tremble the way they do.
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Tim Riggins, skunk.
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A pin pierced the flesh of Watson's thumb as Holmes marked another spot on the map in his hands; Holmes ignored his flinch and stepped back, examining his handiwork with head tilted, and Watson, sick of standing there, growled, "I don't suppose you'd consider purchasing an easel for these purposes?" which Holmes also ignored.
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Luke/Tink, scars.
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